Ursula Parkheart, P.I. :
                      The Flexing Detective
                               in
              "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon"
                             
                               by
                         Forrest Curran

                        (c) WIG, LTD 1993


            Chapter One: Sighing Like Susan Sarandon


Ursula had spent the morning in her office, behind the locked
door with the frosted glass window that read:

                        Ursula Parkheart, 
                     Private Investigations

She hadn't made a sound since staggering into the small third-
floor office at nine-thirty, a full hour and a half after I had
let myself in and set the office up for the business of the day. 
Coffee was made, mail was read, and I had opened the two windows
in her private office to air it out; the room got awfully stale
and dingy-smelling in the heat, like a cheap bookstore on a rainy
day.  A rainy day like today.
It had been threatening to rain since early this morning, the
grey clouds hovering over the city, waiting to explode in their
own good time; and the sky had opened up and had begun a
torrential downpour minutes before Ursula had arrived; having
forgotten her umbrella, my bosslady had gotten soaked walking the
half-block from where she had parked.  It was the sort of thing
that seemed to be happening to her these days.  I knew her step
as it came down the hall and had a cup of coffee at the ready for
her when she came in, all damp hanging hair and downcast face;
her long trenchcoat was dripping but she didn't seem to care, and
she took the coffee and kept walking, slamming the inner door
behind her, the glass-pane insert shaking as she did.  It re-
opened a crack for just a moment, long enough for her to say, in
a voice even huskier and, to me, sultrier than was usual for her,
"I'm not in, JT.  If I get a call, take a message and tell 'em
I'll call back...."
These days there were few.

It had been that way ever since the breakup.  She had been
engaged to some guy I had never even met, but had heard alot
about; all bad; but a guy she was crazy about, to be sure; even
now, she was still carrying a torch and was trying to drown it
out with Old Forrester.  It was starting to take it's toll on her
appearance; she was skipping her daily workouts at Silver's
Amazonia, a gym for, well, women like her...
And that was a shame, too, because how many women as beautiful as
my dark-haired boss could also boast of standing six foot three
in her fishnet-stockinged feet, with a physique so muscular and
big and hot and buxom and zoftig that...?
Okay, so you get the picture.  I had a thing for my big bosslady.

It was the oldest story in the world.  A secretary falling for
the boss.  But with a twist.

It was hard, back in the dark days of the closing years of the
twentieth century, before muscular women became the norm as they
are now; today, women have taken the bull by the horns; tired of
years of abuse, of being afraid for their safety as they walked
the streets at night and realizing their men could not always
protect them; tired, too, of being patronized as being "just a
gal"; they had all wised up; and biceps sprouted prodigously on
women throughout the world as the millenia approached. Females en
masse sprouted daring deltoids made thick and broad in the gym;
it was only a matter of time before the world of haute couteur
caught on, and musclefashion became prevalent; high, high heels
showed off calves and strong bare thighs everywhere one turned;
husbands did not like seeing their once-demure little wives strut
about in micro-miniskirts and punishing spike-heels, displaying a
whole new kind of attribute; the kind that flexed as well as
jiggled.  They did not like knowing that their upper hand was now
largely gone; their wives could equal them in strength.  There
was a return to the days of "yes, ma'am" and "no, ma'am", from
strangers; respect had become commonplace once again, and with
many women, was simply mandatory.  And they did not like knowing,
either, that many of these wives and girlfriends had found their
freedom, sexual and otherwise; Women became strong and confident
and powerful, and had elected one of their own as president in
the last election.  Her picture would one day look down from the
wall over my boss's desk.


But all this did little to help me in the early years of the
nineteen-ninties.  I was in head over heels in love with the
abundantly muscular woman, whom I and I alone could call Sally;
the woman I worked for, who kept me trotting back and forth not
for kisses and pledges of love, but for files and phone calls.

To her, I was just good old JT, always faithful and at the ready.

"Coffee, JT" or "Fetch me some lunch from the Health Food Store,
JT"; I made sure she knew I was available, should she ever want
to turn her muscle-packed charms on her assistant; I tried more
than once, as I sat on her desk taking a memo, to break that
invisible barrier between employer and employee without risking
the steady paycheck that had enabled me to pay off my college
loans and get a small apartment not far from hers. I would
mention a weekend spent quietly, or a dateless New Year's Eve; I
was pretty sure she knew what I was trying to do, and she let me
do it.  I think it amused her; and I'd get a pat on the head and
a playful smack on the rump as I ran to fetch a file; that was
all the feedback I ever got from the beautiful Ursula Parkheart.

Before this downturn in her private and professional life, we had
a great relationship, full of laughter in the occasional empty
moments that happen every so often in all businesses; and full of
efficent co-operation whenever she worked on a case.  Not
infrequently, I would go with her on a job, serving as a sort of
operative; my average looks and slightly diminutive height helped
me avoid notice; something that was difficult for a muscular
amazon like my boss.
And so many a morning she would usher me into her inner office to
take care of some bit of office minutiae; she would smile as I
eyed her powerful limbs, thick and brown, veined and taunting,
bared by a revealing tank-top stretched to bursting by her big
breasts.  Robust calves flexed and unflexed as she would cross
her long killer legs; and a smile would cross those exotic
features that combined equatorial sensuality and european
nobility so uniquely; she would smile quietly and shake her head
as even now, after being with her all this time, I would sigh at
a particularly huge flex of angry and engorged bare bicep; the
equally massive triceps would meet it's challenge and bulge
correspondingly.  I would watch the show, as the molten
muscularity held me spellbound.  An erect nipple making itself
visible on the perfect breast, through sheer cloth, was for me a
cause for celebration; a slice of panty creeping out from under a
short skirt was an epiphany.  
She would tease me about it; when I had first gone to work for
her those massive flexings would befuddle me so profoundly I
could not walk a straight line in her office; and I had, stunned
at her sights, dropped countless cups of coffee in my first two
weeks with her until she had had to go buy a whole new set of
mugs, and I had received a polite but stern admonition that any
more chipped crockery would come out of my salary.
I wasn't aware of it, but when those thick arms would make their
muscles dance and pulse, she was doing it on half on purpose,
enjoying the effect it had on her new assistant; and she chuckled
quietly when I walked into her office one morning to see her
facing the window that overlooked that treeless drab street; she
was humming aloud and pulling a haltertop over her broad and
powerful torso, and a back, thick and broad and chiseled with
muscle from waist to neck, exposed itself to me for just a
second, until the curtain of cloth came down and called an end to
her operatic muscleshow.
"Oh, my...", I had whispered, another coffee cup teetering. I was
unaware I was speaking at all. 
Ursula had loved that; an unguarded moment of pure adoration,
lust and excitement inspired by her huge body in the heart of her
new employee.  She had teased me later, on a Friday evening when
she had taken me out for a drink---a reward to an employee for a
hard week's work---that it reminded her of the jelly-kneed and
breathy "Oh, my!" sigh Susan Sarandon had issued in the film
"Bull Durham".  Whenever my longings for my MuscleBossLady got to
intense, when I seemed to be hovering needlessly yet hopefully
around her desk like a fly near sugar, she would flex the latest
developments and mimic that cinematic shivering.
And chastened, I would go back to my typewriter.

I was hers, body and mind, heart and soul.
And she found that endearing; but only in the way an adult might
find the crush of a teenybopper; something to be tolerated,
nothing more.
She was out of my league. Or so I supposed.

But she felt she was my friend notwithstanding my schoolboy
crush, and as she so often would say at the end of a hectic day,
"You keep things so neat and organized for me, JT.  Where would I
be without you?..."
That is, before that hot, hunkin' package of stacked female
animal would saunter out for the evening, dressed in the shortest
of off-the-shoulder miniskirts revealing a huge and rock-hard
upper body, and leaving a trail of wicked perfume behind her that
left me breathless and shaking as I took care of the last-minute
office affairs of the day.  Running to the window, I would see
the tall, broad-shouldered lady detective strut down the street
to the stunned looks of passers-by.
And I knew I was in love with my muscular bosslady.  Hopelessly.
I loved the cool way she sauntered, rather than walked---her hips
rolling like a panther-woman, predatory and dangerous; but too
beautiful to turn away from; risking whatever fate might befall
those who stare for too long.  In those days, lots of women who
were gifted with superior genetics, who were tall and strong and
muscular, were made to feel like outcasts in a world of much
smaller women and hostile men; and would stoop low as though to
deny their stature; and conceal ripe hot muscles in long sleeves,
loose pants, and high-necked blouses.  
But not Ursula.
She was proud of what she had; every inch of height a thing to
enjoy; every thick bit of hard-won muscle showing in matter-of-
fact, take-me-or-leave-me grandeur.
And she would glide through life just this way; unafraid of her
body's sexual power, and unconcerned with what the consequences
might be; even for her assistant, who stood hovering with bated
breath.
She could take care of herself.
And take care of herself she did.  She would be calm and in-
control as she dispatched her own brand of justice; would have no
problems bending the law if she felt it was in the cause of a
greater good; and displayed the patience of a virgin saint as she
staked out a miscreant; she would hold her pistol rock-steady in
a muscle-thick arm; the barrel gleamed in the dim light, as she
brought a felon to meet his fate under the law of the land.
She was all woman.  A new kind of woman, definitely.  Commanding
the ship of her own destiny, riding life like a horny pumped-up
cowgirl showing up the boys as she tamed a wild bucking bronco; a
heroine for her own time. She would one day be a legend, I was
sure.
And, as I said, I loved her like a Goddess.

But then two things happened.
First, her engagement broke off, and she was launched into a
bitter and teary depression.  Then secondly, crime took a turn
for the better.  Or in our case, for the worse.  The fewer
crimes, the less work for Ursula Parkheart Investigations.
Business had been slow, and combined with the heartbreak she
seemed to be enduring, she had begun eschewing not just the gym
but the health food store as well; boredom, maybe even despair
had set in, and she had sent me out more than once to get her a
lunch of Big Macs and fries. Her protein shakes were nowhere to
be seen, replaced by the kind with a straw and a clown's face on
the top.  In the last week, I had watched as her short skirts had
gotten even tighter than they were designed to be; her stomach,
while still flat, had begun to lose the chiseled muscularity on
her abs, beginning to fade from view under the thin layer of flab
that booze and fatburgers can create almost instantly on even the
finest physiques.  It wasn't like I hadn't tried to be helpful
either; I had tried to give her some encouragement wordlessly,
and had gotten my hands on a photo only several years old, of
Ursula as she stood on stage at the Ms. Amazonia contest; her
huge, muscular body ripe and shining and brown in a white string
bikini whose top was as always stretched to bursting by her
magnificent breasts, her long black hair radiant and lustrous and
loosely flowing down her back as she received the award for
Heavyweight and Overall Winner.  I had it enlarged and put in her
office, on the wall.
She had ignored it.  
The next day, when I got in to set up the office, it was gone.

Boy, it was hot in here.  And humid, too.  Even my desk had the
clammy, damp feel that comes from mugginess like this. It had
settled on the city firmly, and wasn't letting go.  Having a good
deal of Latin blood gave Ursula a natural tolerance for heat, she
explained to me; something she had accrued while she grew up in
her native Cuba; the child of a Cuban woman and a visiting
Englishman.  What were comfortable temperatures for her was
broiling hot; oven-like for me; she would be elegant and dry even
as I slid in a puddle of my own sweat...
But she had refused my request for an air-conditioner all the
same.  Easy for her.  She frequently traipsed around in next-to-
nothing, to the delight and satisfaction of my active fantasy
life; if only she knew what she and I were doing together, at
night, in my dreams...
I clawed at the back of my shirt, as it stuck to my skin in a wet
pool of sweat and starched white cloth.

The morning had passed quietly; there were no calls.  Only an
order, from behind the frosted glass, around 11:30, to get her
some ice.  I knew what that meant; and no sooner had I brought it
into her, where she sat in her high-backed leather chair with
those killer legs bared save for fishnet stockings and crossed
under the short skirt as she stared out into the rain-whipped
street, than she had grabbed it from me with thick muscular arms,
and sent me out.
But before leaving, I noticed her trenchcoat hanging, soaked and
limp, on her rack; it had created another small puddle on the
floor beneath it; Ursula didn't seem to care.  Shaking my head, I
grabbed the coat and brought it into the bathroom, to shake it
out; water had mixed with the dust on the old wood floor, and
created a foul-smelling pool I had had to mop up.
All the while, Ursula sat in her high-backed leather chair with
her back to the door, staring out the window, a large tumbler of
bourbon clinking in her hand.
And, not knowing what to say to her, what comfort I could offer
that she would accept, I went back to my desk.
To pretend there was some work to do, I thought to myself as I
sat down at my old, scratched oak desk.  The office, looking
pretty much unchanged, I imagined, from it's heyday thirty years
ago, had begun to seem particularly dingy; cobwebs of dust had
begun to form around the corners of the high ceiling; the place
needed paint.  The faded parquet wood floor needed sanding and
varnish.  But I wasn't that ambitious.  I slid into the desk, to
try my hand at the crossword puzzle, and it was then that I found
a challenge; something to sink my teeth into...  
My rolling chair squeaked, and I decided that that would be as
good a way as any to earn my pay for the day.  I grabbed my
umbrella and went out to buy some oil.
I rode the old slow freight elevator to the first floor lobby,
and I wondered how I could put out a torch of my own; one whose
existence was known only by it's diminutive holder. Me.
I went out into the wet grey day.

I had to pass the gym on the way back to the office, and slowed
down as I went by.  Maybe one of Ursula's training partners could
bring her out of this, challenge her...I stopped and my eyes
searched the gym through it's rain-streaked front window as I
stood on the sidewalk, and a very developed tank-topped blonde,
thick deltoids bursting as she pressed a heavily weighted barbell
over her head, paused in her exertions and blew me a kiss.  I
watched her body answer the challenge made by the metal; as her
reps accumulated, so did the size of those muscles; engorged and
exploding, the small top growing tighter, tighter, as her upper
body continued to swell; and after she finally put the barbell
back in it's place I saw two drops of perspiration run down
either huge delt, making long slow journeys from the chiseled
peaks as they followed the muscular contours of her arms, flowing
down the deep gorge where delt and triceps met, then following
it's course, down the forearms. 
I smiled at her from under my umbrella, appreciative for the
display, and kept walking.

Timing is everything in life.  Be in the right place at the right
time and you can save yourself a lot of footwork.  And I was.  
I waited at the red light, standing on one leg to avoid stepping
in the steadily-growing puddle near the curb; the rain still
showed no sign of slowing, and I was studying the building that
held Ursula's office; it was aging, and beginning to show it;
having been built just after the war.  It must have been fairly
sharp back then, but smog and neglect had taken it's toll, and it
looked run down even in this less-than-glamorous section of town.

The parallel to the gorgeous hunk of woman inside it was a bit
uncomfortable for me to ponder too long, and I shook the thought
off; she'd come out of it sooner or later, I knew.  
Besides, I was always getting little lost in philosophical
reflection, especially on rainy days...
"...Hey, slim", the voice said again.  I turned and looked over
my shoulder, and stepped into the puddle I had successfully
avoided up to now.
Officer Dell'Avitta stood in her raincoat and shook her head in
amusement as I lifted the now-soaked foot from the deceptively-
deep pool of warm rainwater.
"Slick as always, slim", Maria said, as she wiped an accumulation
of water from the brim of her hat.  I hopped up the curb, where
she had been standing all the while, watching.
She was tall and blonde and pretty in a regular-girl sort of way;
nothing like the killer looks my boss had, whose high-cheekbones
made her look like deposed royalty in a trenchoat.  Maria had a
round and softly pretty face and a few extra pounds and a big
bust she like to point at me.
"Careful, Maria, those things might go off", I said, pointing at
the huge breasts prominent even through the raincoat.  Maria
laughed.  We had a good give-and-take going, due mostly to the
fact that she was married and unable to do anything about the
friendly sexual tension that had sprouted up between us.  It was
something neither one of us had worked at; just a certain frisky
familiarity that had grown from the everyday comings and goings
that make up life.  
But more than once in our business dealings I was sure she had
hiked her skirt up before coming into the office to see my boss;
she knew I was a sucker for, among other things, a great pair of
legs.  And she had them.  She looked at me from under the still-
dripping visor of her standard-issue hat and let her eyes roam up
and down for just a second, as though imagining what could be, if
only...
I let her.
"Kinda hot for that coat, isn't it, Maria?", I said, nodding at
the large and roomy yellow slicker.
"Maybe so, slim.  That's why I'm not wearing anything underneath
it but my birthday suit", she said, eyes dancing with the sheer
enjoyment of flirting...
"So how's things in the P.I. business, slim? Your big boss on any
hot leads I oughta know about?"
I told her the score with Ursula, professionally; I had been
ordered to strictest confidence and complete silence about the
break-up.  She listened sympathetically.
"Rough business she's in, slim.  I heard rumors she was hitting
the liquor store pretty heavy.  When a woman like her starts
prowling around, word gets around the neighborhood. If I get any
word-of-mouth, I'll call, okay?  You take care of her.  She's a
lot of woman and she needs some looking after..."
I nodded.
"But what about you? How are you keeping yourself these days?",
she asked now, as she shook the puddle from the top of her hat
again and revealed her pinned-up neat blonde coiffeur. "No woman
has captured your heart yet?  Or are you just waiting for me to
dump my old man and sweep you off your size tens, huh?", she
said, leaning into me and putting a hand around the small of my
back playfully.
I shrugged.  "I always figured you were too much woman for me,
Maria", I said, jokingly. 
She put both hands on her hips and pivoted like a showgirl.
"That goes without saying, slim."
I nodded, and we were off to our lives again, in separate
directions; but not before she blew me a tiny kiss with painted
lips, and a wicked little wink.
It was the second kiss I had gotten in the last ten minutes,
albeit through the air.  But I had nothing to show for it.
Just like with Ursula, I sighed.
That would soon change.

When I got back to the office a shock was waiting for me...
Even down the hall, I heard the sounds of crashing coming from
the office, and I assumed that my big boss had taken a drunken
fall; I almost didn't want to go inside and see her in that
state...But an assistant had to do that sort of thing, didn't he?
I walked in and almost fainted.
Ursula, my boss, the beautiful, muscle-packed woman for whom I
had pined and daydreamed about, who I had spent lonely Saturday
nights desiring as a far-away and unattainable treasure, was
sprawled magnificently on my desk in nothing but a pair of
fishnets and black spike-heels.  Naked.
And absolutely glorious.
And she had been drinking.
Heavily.

She had cleared off everything on the surface of the scratched
brown desktop, every piece of paper, every scrap of
correspondence and junk mail; even the phone; it lay on the floor
at my feet, the receiver laying off the hook; deaf and mute. The
floor had become a disaster area, and with the pure reflex that
comes with being an assistant I reached down and put the phone
back in it's cradle.  I would regret my diligence later.
Ursula's eyes were half-closed with drink; she extended her thick
commanding arm and bade me step closer with a finger.  I dropped
the package on the floor, and remembered to close and lock the
front door before I approached.
A good assistant would have helped her.  He would have gotten her
cleaned up, and put some hot black coffee into her.  He would
have helped her into the shower...
Which would have driven me just as crazy; water pouring off that
powerful body...
Even now, even here, in this state, I wanted her.  Her body was
an architectural work of art; overwhelming even the big oak desk
with her size; she had turned my workplace into a place upon
which she would now take her pleasure; big, shapely; ample
breasts, nipples prominent and erect; arms, shoulders, legs all
sheathed in pounds and layers of female muscle, carved and
striated and showing only the slightest signs of neglect.  The
still-hard plain of her stomach beckoned me to worship and taste
the hard terrain.
Miles of naked female muscleflesh was there for me to enjoy---
lush and curved and vigorous; full of audacious delight.  I felt
a small electric shock course through me as she parted her legs
just a bit more; and thick pink vaginal lips became exposed, the
clitoris swollen, ready to be pleased by the partner she had
chosen.
Her hair was flattened down on her head, it's owner not bothering
to groom herself after getting caught in the downpour earlier. 
Her makeup had run, and she hadn't bothered to fix that either;
small raccon-like rings encircled her eyes...She moved sensually,
with a strange sort of slow animal grace, and sat up on the edge
of the desk; a siren of desire, a predatory seducer of small guys
who loved a babe with big bad biceps...
I stepped, literally, into her arms, knowing I was doing wrong; I
was like a medieval apprentice paid visit in the dead of night by
a succubus who promised dark and dangerous rewards if only he
would serve...
I was prepared to do anything she wanted.
Even after I got a whiff of ninety proof respiration.

Her powerful arms, muscles prominent in awesome display, huge
biceps almost throbbing in my eyes, slowly went round my waist. 
Her eyes were nearly obscured by the long hair as it hung
shapelessly down over her face, and the regal features that had
enabled her to sneak into many a high-rent affair while on a case
with only a nod as though she owned the place now seemed almost
vulgar; facial muscles had given up control to the Old Forrester.


When someone as strong, as utterly commanding as my bosslady
wants to get a kiss, she usually gets her way; especially when
the kissee can't really offer any resistance, and wouldn't if he
could.
Her arms held me close, their thick power capturing me.  My mouth
fell on hers, pulled in with a magnetic force, as though it would
destined by physical law to rest upon hers, and let her hot moist
tongue invade my mouth at last; now, after working for her for
over a year and a half in lustful silence and reverent awe.  I
tasted the whiskey she had been guzzling, but I didn't care.  My
hands went to her broad shoulders, thick with layers of muscle,
and rubbed them as they had wished to for so long, delighting in
the size, the brazen appearance, the deep cuts and sculpted
relief...  
Her hands began to unbutton my shirt, tossing my tie away to some
dusty corner.  My conscience beckoned; I knew I shouldn't; not
with her in this state.  It wasn't really fair to her, was it? 
But I let her anyway.  My need for her overcame even my sense of
right and wrong...
When the shirt did not give way to her immediately, she solved
the problem in a more direct way.
"Wanna see some skin", she slurred...
She tore it off me, the cloth giving way in her powrful arms, the
tattered shreds falling to my waist, held in place by the long
shirttail tucked into my trousers.  I was barechested, and for a
moment, just a bit self-conscious in the prescence of this
statuesque magnificent drunk who was now kissing me so hard I
thought my mouth would bruise.  Her hands went around my slim
arms, and she pulled me back with her, as she lay back on the
desk.  My feet lifted off the floor with a jump, and I could
detect the musky scent of her damp vagina; my hand went to the
breasts, holding them for just long enough for me to kiss them
both, my tongue massaging the big nipples before going on to
explore the rest of her masterful thick body.  Her hair had
tumbled back over the edge of the desk and she gave me a
smoldering look, as though I were someone else other than the
faithful assistant who had up to now received only playful kisses
on my forehead from this amazon...
She began undoing my belt, unzipping my fly, pulling off the
trousers...She yanked them off my body, and they fell into a heap
around my knees as I knelt over her.
Her fingers reached around my rear, the long fingernails lifting
up the cloth-covered elastic and sliding in, under the tight
band.  I was in the middle of burying my face in her neck, where
I was kissing the soft flesh, tasting her hair as I did so.  The
sharp fingernails scrathced my buttocks lightly; a moan went up
from my throat.
And she tore my briefs into pieces.
"Good and naked", she grunted in a voice I did not know.  The
shredded cloth fell limply onto my desk; and I was naked, just
like the great pulsing slab of female omnipotence who was
reaching for my penis with both long-nailed hands.
Her preponderant breasts pointed up to me accusingly; thick
nipples aimed at my heart...I did not notice it at the time, but
there were no tan lines on this body.  None.  When she and her
fiance had gone to the beach, they must have...
"Walk around here looking cute", she said, as though I had been
doing something wrong all the while I had worked for her.  
"Now you're gonna get it.  Ursula's gonna make you fuck for her,
boy..." she said heavily through half-closed eyes, as if it were
a threat...
Dreams do come true, I realized, as she ran drunken hands up and
down the length of my shaft.  My eyes went to hers, but rather
than the deep royal orbs looking back at me in the way that had
helped me fall for her in the first place, I saw two blue balls
unfocused and vague, not seeing me at all.  She had no idea who
she was talking to.
Her powerful hand went to my behind, and she pulled me to her,
guiding my penis to her waiting wet vagina with the other.  The
head was swollen and throbbed with my rapid heartbeat; pre-
ejaculate oozed.  I felt the heat of her loins as my penis
hovered for just a second; my hands were unconsciouly running up
and down the magnificent gladiatrix arms, enjoying, no, loving,
the rise and fall as they ran across their contours.
The head of my penis lay across the wet lips of her vagina, the
lubrication flowing from both our organs now, preparing their
owners for imtimacy and delight...
I knew that Ursula had not changed her attitude towards me.  I
knew that this was a desire that comes from a bottle; that rather
than want to share the love I felt for her, Ursula only wanted to
commit a sexual act---get laid; and let my semen try to do what
the Old Forrester had not; extinguish the flame in her heart she
could not douse herself.
And then the phone rang.

And I let it....

The head of my penis found itself surrounded by the warm wet
walls of her pussy as it began it's descent into her depths.
Her thick powerful arms moved down my body, the hands running to
my bottom, where they each took hold of a small white buttock,
and proceeded to pull me deeply inside her; my penis began to 
disappear within my bosslady's velvet pussy.
I let out a cry that comes from the relief of an old, burning
urge, satisfying my heart and soul as well as my loins.  She
dictated a slow rhythm with her strong arms, pushing me into her
and pulling me just as slowly out, only to repeat the whole
ecstatic process.
"Sally", I said in adoration, as a  whisper, using the nickname I
alone had permission to use.
The answering machine picked up the call now, and Ursula was not
listening to it...Neither was I at first...

"...it's really important, Ms. Parkheart.  I'm downstairs in the
lobby.  I have cash and I'm ready to pay.  My daddy is Mr. Hugh
Sternwood, the billionaire industrialist, and..."

There were many sacrifices you have to make in life.  Some you
don't mind making; like the sort you'd make for the welfare of
your child.  Some you do mind making; like giving up tickets to
the AFC championship game to take your girlfriend to an art
exhibit.  Then there are the real killers.
Like this one.  Ursula needed the work badly, and I had to get
her attention...

"Sally?",I said, trying to control my voice as it even now shook
with pleasure, my big built bosslady's vagina massaging and
squeezing my penis like a second mouth; my body not ready to give
up the delights it was at long last knowing even as my mind knew
it must...My hands eager to keep running their course along the
muscular terrain of her elemental body...
Even as they, too, knew they must...
I sighed again, just like Susan Sarandon; a rush of air escaping
as though released from someplace deep and secret within me,
freed from captivity by the body of Ursula Parkheart.

"Sally, it's a job..."




                        (c) WIG, LTD 1993

                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.
                      The Flexing Detective:
                               in

               The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon





                          Chapter Two:

                       Awed by A Hardbody 


I sat at my desk listening for the sound of a customer's
footsteps.  It had been hard enough getting up from my desk, away
from the arms I had dreamed of; it had been harder still to dress
and clean up my office.  And it had been impossible to get Ursula
Parkeart's gorgeous two hundred and thirty pound muscular frame
up from my desk.  I feared the arrival of our client; I had asked
her to give us just a moment while we dealt with another
customer---a wholly imaginary one, of course.
I corrected and groomed my own appearance in the mirror, and I
was glad I kept that extra shirt in the drawer.  I tried once
more time to rouse her from my desktop.  She lay magnificently
muscular and naked, half asleep on the oaken surface, acres of
bare she-hunk flesh beckoning.  I saw the breasts rise and fall
with her breath; I wanted to touch them, and more...
Instead, I grabbed a glass of water and threw it over her, the
icy fluid crashing softly on her face.
She shot up, spluttering, finally awake; her hair a mass of
slickened tangles.
"Darn it, Sally, there's a customer coming!", I urged her. "Go
inside and get yourself cleaned up!"
A dulled flash of recognition came across the sleepily erotic
face and she found her feet, balanced precariously on her thick
naked thighs, wobbling in spike-heeled shoes. I escorted her to
her office door, holding the powerful forearm, trying to turn my
eyes from her gorgeously naked body and succeeding only with
heart-wrenching effort.  I gave her a small push across the
doorway, and only then did I allow myself to watch two perfect
round buttocks shimmy and shake out of sight as the door closed
behind her.  I re-arranged my desk, establishing some kind of
order, and I heard with relief the sound of the shower being
turned on in the small bathroom off her office.

A knock came at the door not one second after picking up the last
dusty envelope from the floor.
A blonde moppet walked in, chewing gum impatiently and looking
like she couldn't wait to leave.  She turned her nose up at the
plain surroundings of the office and looked annoyed that she had
to spend any time in here at all.
"Good afternoon", I said, trying my best to be friendly and
professional while I listened to the shower head silenced, the
leaking washer letting a small rain fade and echo for some
seconds after. 
Hurry, Sally.
The girl-woman and I listened to the larger rain outside as it
slapped against the windows with small puddles.
"You work here?", the blonde asked after settling herself down in
the single chair used for the occasional backlog of waiting
clients.  She wore a pair of red shorts, cut very high on her
thin tan thighs, and a pair of matching red mules, their heels
skyscraper-high. I wondered how she walked in them on such thin
legs.  And how had she managed to stay dry? 
She rubbed the cloth of her white t-shirt on a diamond ring,
perhaps to call my attention to it.  It was impressive; almost as
big as the one Ursula had worn before her relationship had hit
the skids, and her life had derailed; the big diamond she had
been so proud to wear banished and vanished into a deep desk
drawer.
Other than that, this newest customer was forgettable looking;
bland oval face full of too much makeup and a look that told of
having seen too much and done too much that she couldn't talk
about, in cover of night.  She was small-breasted and spoiled and
pampered and tapping her foot impatiently.
"Yes", I answered, "I do".
"So what are you?", she asked in a high nasal voice through her
bubble gum. "You a private eye?"  She looked at me as if I were a
shop clerk who wouldn't take her credit card. 
"Ah, no, actually, I'm not.  I'm Ms. Parkheart's assistant."
She broke into a delighted smile.  "Oh, you mean like, you're her
secretary?  Cute.." she responded, finding the idea funny.
I was about to tell her that I was an operativge, that I had been
in a couple of potentially dangerous spots in service of
Parkheart Investigations.  The words were forming in my mouth
when Sally's door opened, and she walked out.

She showed no signs of having been dead drunk less than ten
minutes ago, and near passing out.  She wore a dark business
suit, cut tight to her zoftig frame.  The only remarkable thing
in Ursula's appearance, besides the staggering size of the woman,
was that she wore no blouse underneath the low-cut jacket;
cleavage spillled out abundantly, pounds of big soft succulent
breast bared.  That was nothing new; and neither was the altered
hemline of the otherwise conservative skirt; it was shortened to
mid-thigh and showed off her wonderfully developed legs, their
hard calves prominent.  I tried to force my eyes away from the
sights my hands and mouth had feasted hungrily upon minutes ago.
"Hello," she said, after just a moment's pause in the doorway
before walking over to the superficial blonde, extending a hand. 
"I'm Ursula Parkheart.  How can I help you?"

The blonde did not react at first to the extended hand.  She was
in shock. Her mouth hung open, revealing the pink wad of gum she
had been working as it lay upon her tongue.
"Jesus Christ, you really are big,", she finally said, bluntly;
awed; her cynicism shaken for just a moment.  She gave the hand a
brief girlish shake.  Ursula pretended not to hear the comment. 
She sat back on my desk, and I saw that she had somehow done an
expert make-up job in minutes.  Her hair was slicked back, wet
and in a bun.  She smelled terrific and her chiseled features
were alert and ready for the job.  She crossed her legs and
folded her arms and started asking questions.
"Coffee?", she asked, pointing at the ever-present pot in the
corner; it's aroma was still strong three hours after having been
brewed.
"Yeah, sure", she answered, and Ursula gave me a casual nod.  The
blonde seemed to enjoy seeing her give me an order and smiled as
I poured the two women the strong black brew.
"Excuse me for not inviting you into my private office", Ursula
said as she sipped at the styrofoam cup's contents; "but it's a
bit of a mess right now.  We were just seeing another client who
gave us some trouble..."
The blonde looked Ursual up and down.  "That looks like a pretty
bad idea with somebody like you..."
Ursula smiled a million-dollar smile that displayed perfectly
dazzling teeth.  "Let's start from the beginning; what is your
full name, miss?"

My pencil was at the ready.
Angela Sternwood told her tale.
"The problem?" she asked after the legal questions had been
covered.  "The problem is my sister is a friggin' moron, that's
what the problem is...", she  said, as she fidgeted in her cheap
vinyl seat.  This was a girl used to leather under her behind and
she looked as though she was getting ready to make a complaint
about the seat cushions when Ursula, all business now, leaned
into her.
"Please be specific, miss", she said, firmly, a trace of
annoyance and, I thought, hangover, in her dusky voice.  Angela
Sternwood got the message.
After a moment of silence, she began.
"My father is Hugh Sternwood, okay?  You know, the health food
guy?"
Ursula nodded, the slightest trace of strain on her face. 
Hangovers made it painful to move your head, didn't they?
"Sure.  I use his supplements..."
"Yeah?", the blonde said, as though surprised to find someone who
actually used the stuff that had made her an heiress to a
fortune.  She was, if her figure was any indication, of the
binge-and-purge school of nutrition; bone thin, but with a tiny
ring of flab around her midsection that her body refused to
surrender to that dietetic torture.
"Anyway, my mom's dead, and dad, well, he's not too sharp
anymore.  He mighta sold the stuff but the only health food he
ever took was eighty proof..."
My eyes met Ursula's for just a second; they flashed with guilt.
"So there's nobody to run things, right?", the girl said, rather
than asked.
Ursuala interrupted her.  "What about a conservator, a lawyer?"
Angela shook her head.  "He don't believe in them.  Hates
lawyers, says they run the government, like what's his name, Ross
Perot, right?  He tried to get my friggin' sister to run things. 
That's when he got into trouble, boy...See, my sister, she likes
money, but she don't know what the hell to do with it, you know,
manage it?  I took some courses at the community college, but
hell, the older sister gets the job, and we're all he's got.  So
he sends my sister out into the field, like he called it, which
meant she had to take some really shitty jobs in the outlet
stores, learning the business.  She makes friends with this
woman, Raye-Anne is her name; she managed an outlet store in
Pennsylvania before she moved out here with my sister to make it
in show business..."

"Yeah, that's it, Raye-Anne Hallison.  Boy, what a bitch...", she
said, handing the picture to Ursula, who studied it.
It was an 8X10 glossy; the sort that actors and actresses have
done all the time.
"How so?", Ursula asked, glancing at my speeding pencil, a blur
as I got everything on legal-sized paper.
"She took over the friggin' business is what.  See, my sister
likes to party, y'know? So she has a little too much to drink one
night, and she loses control of the Beamer.  She hits this old
lady.  She's hurt pretty bad, but the old broad, she pulls out. 
So Raye-Anne tells her that she can get wiped out, you know, in
the law suit.  So she tells my idiot sister to write the business
over to her; give her everything.  Well, jeez!", she exclaimed,
"even I know that's the oldest one in the book.  But does my
moron sister? No.  She signs the whole goddamn business over to
Raye-Anne!", she said, her hands slapping down on her thighs in
anger. "My sister goes on welfare and everything just to make it
look good; tells the cops she was disinherited.  Dad goes along
with it; at this point he'll go along with almost anything you
tell him...", she said, unsentimental even at the thought of a
dad insensate.
"So", Ursula said, "when the suit was over, Raye-Anne didn't give
anything back, right?"
"Right", she said, in surprise, as though Ursula had figured out
a bit of quantum physics. "She told my sister to go fuck herself. 
Says she has everything all nice and legal; notarized. Raye-Anne
had the brains to see a lawyer, at least..."
"Not much you can do about that, is there?", Ursula said.
Angela Sternwood was not hearing what she wanted to hear.  "What
do you mean, not much I can do?  That's why I came to see you."
She twirled a flat and lifeless strand of hair on her finger
nervously...
"I can't change the law, miss.."
"Who's askin' you to?  I want you to get the contract back, is
all.  It's not like it was done fairly or anything, right?  And
my dad will pay plenty..."
My eyes went to Ursula, waiting for what she would say.
"Where is it?"
"In a safe.  In her house.  But only until Friday, that's when
her lawyer is coming for it.  He's out of town for now, but on
Friday he'll be back, that's for sure. You have to get it by
then, 'cause after that everything's gonna be hers", she said, as
though all it entailed was visiting this Raye-Anne and telling
her to hand it over.
"You just have to.."

Ursula's well-manicured, long-fingernailed hand went to her chin.
She had grown her naiIs long to please her fiance;  she ran one
of them across her high, chiseled cheekbone.
I knew that Ursula could crack any safe short of Fort Knox; I
didn't know where she had picked up the skill, but I had seen her
more than once approach a locked safe with nothing more than a
stethoscope and her steady nerves and fingers...
In light of her recent drinking, that already worried me...

"So what you need is a little skilled muscle, right?", Ursula
asked.  "You need someone who can get in, open the safe and get
the papers and leave without being detected? And take care of
herself in case she can't get out...? Sort of a `two for the
price of one' deal, right?"
"Yeah, that too", the blonde said.  "This Raye-Anne lives alone. 
So it would be one-on-one if it came to that, I guess...Like you
said, muscle's what I need.  Skilled, fast, muscle."  She looked
my bosslady up and down.
Ursula stood and turned away from the blonde and slid off her
suit jacket, handing it to me to hold.  She then turned around
again and presented a muscle-packed body to the blonde, with only
a small black bra holding in the huge breasts.  They looked as
though they were ready to explode through the sheer undercloth,
as though they were angry at this imprisonment.
Ursula hit a stage pose, and I was doubly pleased at the sight.
Firstly, because any view of her flesh was hot-heaven for me; but
also because it was the first time she had intentionally
displayed any muscle since the break-up.
Booze or not, my bosslady could still flex 'em; she was ripped
and huge as the slabs of sinew re-appeared.
My gorgeous hearthrob rippled with massive muscle commanded to
life; I was proud to see her bring that force to bear again.  I
looked at the heavily painted face of the blonde bimbo, and I was
secretly proud of the startling body my bosslady displayed;
thickly packed with muscle that made me delirious each time I saw
it...
"Holy shit", the blonde said.  "You're built almost as big as
Raye-Anne..."
Almost? 

"By the way", Ursula asked her, "how did you get my name?"
Angela shrugged.  "I asked the cop across the street if she knew
any private eyes, and she said you were right up here.  So, I
came..."
Maria.  We owed her one.

"What we need", Ursula said, "is a diversion."
"What kind of diversion?", the blonde asked.
Ursula paced the room, still clad above the waist in only the
tiny bra.  
"What about a guy? She lives alone, you said.  So she isn't
married?"
Angela's nose wrinkled.  "Raye-Anne? No way.  She goes through
men like kleenex.  'Specially guys like him", she said, jerking
her thumb at me as I sat at my desk; she did not even look at me.
"Really?", Ursula said, her gaze going to me as though the very
idea was strange.  "You sure about this, Ms. Sternwood?"
Angela looked at me.  "Hey, buddy, stand up."  Ursula nodded to
me to obey.
She looked me up and down with a bored look.  "Yeah, just like
him.  She likes them much smaller than she is.  And with no body
hair, too. None.  Not even, you know, down there", she said,
giggling just a bit and raising an eyebrow. "Reason I know this
is 'cause she used to be friends with my sister, and she used to
tell her alot of sexual stuff.  Every afternoon she's out by the
community pool picking out her next conquest.  She likes guys in
skimpy little swimsuits; says she likes to see skin..."
I looked at Sally again; the words didn't ring a bell for her;
words she had drunkenly said to me less than an hour ago..
"Lemme tell ya, Raye-Anne's one tough babe..."
"Tough how?", Ursula asked.
"She a lot of woman, like I said, she's built like you, maybe
even taller", she said, trying to appraise her height by staring
at the crown of Ursula's raven-maned head.  "She roughs guys up. 
You know, rough sex, they call it? That's Raye-Anne's idea of a
good time.  Guys walk away happy, though, from what I hear... 
But the bottom line is, Ms. Parkheart, if you get the contract my
daddy will pay you one hundred and fifty thousand dollars..."
My eyes searched Ursula's stern composed features for some sign
of reaction.  There was none; her eyes darted back and forth
across the room; her thoughts were elsewhere; elsewhere being a
place where she was surrounded by one hunded and fifty thousand
dollars.
"Uh, Sally?", I asked, trying to get her attention.
"Hhmm?", she said, shaking herself out of her daydream. "What is
it, JT?"
"My evenings are free all week..."
Ursula smiled knowingly at me.  "That, JT, is just what I was
hoping you would say..."

"...and you get twenty-five per cent of the job, JT.  But I can't
force you to do this. It could be dangerous.."
Angela had flitted out after leaving my boss a healthy retainer,
and we sat talking the case over; my big bosslady still wearing
only the bra to cover her big upper body.  She often would
intentionally bounce ideas off me, (and sometimes,
unintentionally, her breasts), but this was different.  She was
stretched out on my desk, in a position not dissimilar to the one
I had found her in before, as she drunkenly and langorously
prepared to fuck her assistant shitless.

She was oblivious to the wild stirring she was causing in me. I
wasn't sure if Ursula had any recollection of what had happened
on my desk an hour ago; I knew that I would never forget it;
heck, I was only hoping for an encore.  But she was having
blackouts lately.  She gave no sign that the interlude had ever
happened.  My eyes roamed her vast physique as she talked;
reliving the moments I had spent in her arms; she saw my
wandering vision, and smiled.  She cupped my chin in her
fingertips.  I swallowed hard; but it wasn't over the danger.  It
was for Ursula.
"Anything for you, Sally, you know that...", I said, my eyes
bright and shining with hope.  She blew me a kiss and got up from
the desk.  She wiggled her hips under her skintight skirt as she
disappeared for just a moment, into her office.
"I gotta go crash, JT. I feel like shit. Where have I been all
day?", she said, shaking her head after she had reappeared. 
"Gotta give up the sauce...
Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day.", she cautioned as she slid the
jacket on her big broad shoulders.  I was sorry to see them
disappear under the covering of the coat.
"Mind the office for me, angel.  Close at four, okay?", she
ordered, as she locked the gun into the drawer in her desk and
pocketed the key.
"Yes, sure, Sally.  Shall I forward your calls?"
She thought for a moment, biting her lip. 
"Nah.  Tell 'em I'll call them tomorrow sometime."  She stood
transformed before me, the prospect of work and a hefty payday
changing her outlook.  She was steeping jauntily out of the
office when she turned to me.
"Oh, listen, JT.  Tomorrow we have to get you introduced to this
Raye-Anne.  I'll pick you up the right swimsuit on the way home. 
I have a feeling that this Raye-Anne and I share some of the same
tastes. But you better take care of all your body hair tonight. 
Raye-Anne likes them hairless, remember, JT ?"
I nodded.  
"Sure you can handle it yourself?"
An electric shock shot through me, fading as I saw her laugh.
"Relax, JT, that wasn't a propsition.  It's just that I have the
number of a good electrolysis girl..", she kidded.
"..Oh, and JT?  For goodness sakes, pick up your underwear from
the corner..Honestly; how did they get there? I thought we agreed
you would not bring your laundry to the office...."
The briefs, torn and tattered in a drunken moment by my bosslady,
lay in rags in the corner, wedged between the wall and the filing
cabinet. Ursula shook her head affectionately; unaware that she
was the perpetrator of their destruction, and that the briefs had
given their life for her drunken pleasure.
And my pin-striped boss, Ursula, in whose arms I had reveled,
whose depths I had ventured into with heaving chest and high
hopes, disappeared; powerful calves vanishing round the door,
power heels click-clacking into the distance of the hall.
I finally had a chance to see the picture of this mystery woman.
It was a head shot; she looked back at me from the glossy black-
and-white print with eyes that twinkled mischeviously; a pert
nose and even white teeth gave her a certain glamour, but she
still retained something of the high-school tomboy athlete in her
face; she was pretty, in a midwestern way, rather than exotic. 
Just as attractive as Ursula, I had to admit; but different.

Sleep had been hard to come by that night.  Not only because of
what had happened between Ursula and me, as we enjoyed a short
lunch of each other's bodies on the hard oak desk.  Not only
because she didn't seem to have any recollection of the incident
ever happening.  And not only because of the fact that I had had
to remove every bit of body hair earlier that night in the
shower; my slender body had a strangely neutral look to it now;
denuded of the body hair I had accepted as part of me for so
long.  What was really bothering me was Sally's health.  If she
was having blackouts and memory lapses, if she was that far into
the booze, could she be relied upon to do the job?  What if she
hit the booze tonight?  Failure on a case like this could get her
arrested; ruin her career.  To say nothing of what might happen
to me; Raye-Anne sounded like a frightening woman despite her
all-american eight by ten.  But something within me looked
forward to playing the operative, especially with someone as
dangerous as her.  I had to admit, too, that I was looking
forward just a bit to the games of flirtation I would be playing
with the muscle-packed beauty...
Hours passed as I tossed and turned, the sheets beneath me had a
strange feel; smooth and silken.  Until I realized that that
wasn't the sheets; that was me.
In my dreams that night I finished my interlude with Ursula,
grinding and giving and moaning; my hands like small birds taken
in hers; ardent worshipful hands that ran over the relief of her
sculpted body; whispering devotion; exploding into her powerful
body with frantic urges and wishes to please; as she climaxed,
she took me over completely, our thoughts intermingled, our souls
one.

Ursula stood before me bathed in the morning sunlight that
spilled into the office.  Her eyes were clear, her face alert and
cool and lovely.  Her hair was long and loose and perfectly done;
there was no alcoholic trembling in her massive limbs. She wore a
backless tank top that made me catch my breath as she walked in
that morning; it was white and sheer and the broad muscles of her
back waved at me as she had strutted into her office, after
taking the cup of coffee I had ready for her the moment she
walked in. Her shoulder blades had driven me made as they pumped
under that hard-packed flesh.
Her eyes ran up and down my body, as mine did hers.  She had her
hands on her hips, the thick slabs of deltoid standing out on her
torso.  Perfectly manicured long red fingernails absently
scratched her arm; I wanted to do it for her.  Her legs were
bared; small black velvet shorts cut high on her thigh showed the
sculpted legs to full advantage; sheer black hose gave them an
aura of mystery.
"Hey, JT, you look adorable", Ursula said.
She had deposited a package on my desk five minutes ago, and told
me to go inside the bathroom and open it and try it on.
The green trunks were brief, alright; even briefer than most of
my underwear; I couldn't possibly wear this in public!  The tiny
trunks barely had...
...a back, does it?", Ursula said as she walked around me,
surveying her assistant in the trunks she had bought for me
yesterday, as she had promised.  Her hand ran lightly and briefly
on my nearly-bare buttocks, scratching them lightly with her
manicured fingernails; I shivered with pleasure...
"I think old Raye-Anne is on to something, JT.  The clean-shaven
look really does something for me...", she said, as she now ran a
hand across my bare chest.  Her muscles rippled as she moved her
arm.
"Really, Sally?", I asked, my hand going tentatively to her
braceleted wrist. I wanted to run my hand up that thickly muscled
arm, feel the biceps, kiss them, be hers. "Do you mean it?"  
Hope springs eternal...
"Yeah", she said, a touch wistful. "Steve kept his chest shaven",
Ursula said, as though conjuring a painful memory.  Her focus
seemed to leave her.  
Him again.
"Your ex-fiance", I said, not needing to ask.
"Sometimes he let me do it for him", she added wistully, staring
at my thin hairless chest.
A nasal voice shot through the glass partition.
"Hey", it whined, "do I have to stay out here all morning?"

We drove out of town, taking Ursula's business car; a rather
nondescript two-door white Buick. It didn't compare to Sally's
other car; a candy-apple red Corvette; but ostentatiousness in a
car was a problem in this business, and so we had poured
ourselves into the battered old tank.  Angela had wanted us to
take her car; a black Supra shining in the morning sun.  She
didn't understand why bringing a car that Raye-Anne could easily
recognize was not a good idea. Sally shook her head and whispered
to me, "Coulda been a brain surgeon, huh?"  Her sweet breath
tickled my ear.
Sally had told me to sit in back; Angela had wolf-whistled with
glossy pink lips as I bent low to squeeze into the rear seat as I
had gotten in. The terrycloth jacket gave my mostly-bared rear
little protection from her prying eyes.  For just a moment, I
knew how well-developed women must feel at the beach.
In the rear-view mirror I saw Ursula's eyes peering at me as I
sat alone in the back seat amidst out-of-date newspapers and
miscellany; boy, her big wide shoulders looked great in that
sleeveless white blouse cut high; baring a good deal of her
deliciously steep trapezius...
Angela went into a non-stop monologue of idiotic prattle that
only served to set my nerves on edge; I was already nervous, and
as I returned Sally's glances, I saw that she was too.
Her hands seemed to shake ever so slightly on the wheel.
Forget him, I thought, trying to send the thought to my
MuscleBossLady. I felt a long drop of nervous sweat run down from
my armpit.


                         Chapter Three:

                   A Hurricane Named Raye-Raye

The housing development wasn't very fancy; rows of attached
townhouses one after the other.  The few trees were small; as
though kept in their shrunken state by a too-harsh sun.  It was
evidence that the whole thing had been no more than a drawing on
some architext's blueprint less than five years ago.  It looked
older.  Ultraviolet beat down relentlessly as noon approached; I
wasn't sure if it was the heat of the coming midday hour that was
making me sweat, or nervousness...
Angela lowered the binoculars from her eyes, still squinting into
the distance.  She turned to Ursula, who was sitting next to her
and reaching for them herself...
"It's her alright."
Ursula studied the image the glasses were presenting her; for
just a second I felt as though I was on safari.  The difference,
I realized, was that I was the goat that was being tied to the
tree.
"We better not get any closer", Ursula said, turning to appraise
me.  She didn't know it, but I was doing the same thing to her. 
I wasn't sure what had made me volunteer for this job.  The
better part of me wanted to help my hot hunk of a LadyBoss.  She
needed the work, she needed the money; hell, so did I...
Another part of me, a part that I would never admit to her, 
wanted to meet a woman like Raye-Anne; if she's all Angela said
she was, maybe my boss will get jealous...
I got out of the car and stood by the driver's door, as the
ladies gave me a last-second inspection.
Ursula slid on a pair of sleek dark sunglasses and regarded me
from over their rim.
"Well, JT, this is it.  Be available and be friendly.  And get
yourself a date...", she encouraged, winking. She couldn't
possibly have any idea how hot she looked.  I felt an erection
begin to grow in the tight confines of the brief outfit.
"Don't worry", Angela said as she leered at the small swimsuit
and cracked her gum. 
"He's just what Raye-Anne loves..."
Ursula let her thick arm hang over the side of the door.  She
seemed to be repressing a grin. In the distance, I could hear the
splash of a body hitting the water, seeking relief from the heat;
Laughter followed, faint and high.  My chest was pounding with
fear and anticipation.
She jerked a thumb in the direction of the pool.  As she did,
that big bad baseball of a bicep flexed to life, daring the
triceps to meet the challenge.  It did; and I watched with
dinner-plate eyes...
I was still watching it as she said, "Get going, JT. Time to earn
some big-time dough..."

There weren't many people at the pool.  After all, it was a
weekday afternoon, and even in the oppressive heat of the day,
most people had other things to do.  Like stay indoors where it's
safe and comfort-cooled, I thought as I walked along the path
that led to the pool. Even here the place has a slightly run-down
look, despite the fact that it was only recently built.  Designed
to be obsolete, I thought to myself, shaking my head...
As I approached the gate, I saw a mother run after a toddler, who
was preparing to dive in to the inviting blue mirror of water;
she caught him just in time as he had taken the first step out
from the ledge, where he would have fallen two fathoms to the
bottom.  She had the look a mother often has, as she hustled him
back to their seats, when she pulls a child from danger; she
didn't know whether to smack him or kiss him, and wore a smile
that reflected those conflicting emotions.  She wore a rather
conservative bikini; but her figure was still sharp for a mom,
with a nice pair of breasts and hips.  She looked up to me as she
stood bent over the babe; we exchanged polite grins.  I couldn't
help but feel her eyes on me as I walked past her; the sun was
shining on a portion of my anatomy that it seldom had before,
except for the time Ursula had sent me undercover to the nudist
colony; and that was a story for another time...
I looked over my shoulder, back at her.  She was still
smiling...I nearly gave a little Elvis-like gyration with my hips
to make her day; but I decided I had better save it up for...
Raye-Anne.
She was stretched out on a lounge at the far end of the pool;
secluded; even from here I could she that she was a big woman.  I
felt my breath come short and fast in my chest; my blood flowed
through my ears, giving everything a tinny sound as I walked
towards her. Her awesome size set off an internal alarm in my
head; danger was near. A strong hot sun beat down, and the beach
bag I held in my hands seemed suddenly heavy.  My hands were
damp; the plastic seemed to be trying to slip from my grasp.  I
got closer to the far end of the pool and for some strange reason
I remembered at that moment that I'd forgotten to bring any
sunscreen. Sweat ran down from my armpits; anti-perspirant
failing.
My god, she was huge...
I almost stopped dead in my tracks, but my training as an
operative kept me moving even when my mind had halted.  I passed
her by and chose a chaise lounge right next to hers.
And feasted my eyes on the most gorgeous, muscle-packed, stuttin'
and flexin' hardbody in a string bikini that I had ever seen.  My
chest heaved as I tried not to stare; I laid out my blanket on
the vinyl mattress that smelled of mildew and stale sunlotion,
and took off the terrycloth robe that my Bosslady had bought me
yesterday.  I felt her eyes go to my pale white flesh as it now
laid bare save for the tiny speedo; flesh that I was usually so
careful to shield from the sun; and I got a chill up my spine
even in the ninety-three degree heat...
I remembered when all hurricanes used to be named after women;
that had been changed to reflect the more enlightened times; but
the woman whose eyes bored down upon me was like a powerful
hurricane that had caught me in it's almighty winds...

"Catch her eye", Sally had told me.  I swallowed hard and looked
over my shoulder.
Raye-Anne was staring right at me. She was enormous; thick arms
and barn-door shoulders, and big breasts and legs carved from oak 
the epitome of a steaming hot lady bodybuilder.  Her thick-as-my-
thigh arms were behind her head in casual repose, hands cupping
her head of straight and shining blonde hair; the pose
accentuated the wide perfect lats, and my hands trembled.  Her
body mocked the tiny dental floss white bikini; it was a tiny
designer thing with lots of buckles and straps and very little
cloth; her big breasts were covered only barely; luscious
cleavage spilled out before my eyes.  This was a woman who didn't
dress in a lot of clothes, and why should she? Muscle was all the
covering she needed.  Naked and gorgous in the hot sun, sweat
dripping...That's how she should be...
Her stomach was chiseled and rock-hard; tough and flat and
unforgiving enough to crack open a coconut.  I wanted to do just
that, and eat the sweetmeat off those abs with just my tongue;
and after, lick the sticky juice from the flesh as it...
My back straightened visibly as my mind cleared and I reminded
myself that I was on a job.  I wasn't here to daydream or develop
a musclecrush on a stacked and steaming hunk of female; I was
there to work.
But she wasn't.
"Hi, there", she said, in a voice that was surprisingly light and
feminine for a woman so huge; not the booming bass I would have
expected.  She spoke without moving an inch of that incredible
body.
I cleared my throat twice before I could talk.
"Hi", I said, half-choking, before turning away, blushing
mightily.  Another erection began to sprout; in this ridiculous
outfit it showed quickly.  I walked over the edge of the pool and
dove in, seeking a quick remedy to the uh, growing problem...

When your system gets a shock, sometimes it takes a few seconds
for it to register.  Like now.  I had tried to make my most
graceful and athletic dive; a feeble attempt at best for me.  I
then thought I could impress her with how long I could swim
underwater, the way a teenage boy might do.  
Suddenly, my head was pounding, my skin was screaming, my arms
began to refuse to take orders; I had dived into a pool of
icewater and was submerged in it's domain.  I turned back and 
scrambled to the edge, my brain disoriented, confused, on
instinct alone, bloodless arms struggling to find the edge; and I
tried to crawl out, dripping, glad for once that the day was so
hot as the sun hit my skin; I lay shivering on the concrete,
feeling as though my internal organs had been perma-frosted...

"They just filled the pool up again fresh this morning," came the
muscial voice from the pumped body, hard and gleaming in the sun,
as it soaked up it's solar power. "I coulda told you that the
water was too cold."
I looked up to her.  "W..why d-didn't you tell me?", I asked,
teeth chattering.
She looked at me as though I was from Mars.
"You didn't ask, that's why", she answered, sighing and
repositioning herself of the lounge.  She shook her head as
though to say, "Deliver me from the questions of skinny blue-
lipped morons..."

I staggered on bloodless legs to the chaise lounge.  For just a
moment, all my attention left the supersized Goddess next to me;
all I wanted to do was get dry and get warm.  I stood with a
towel in my hands, still dripping, drying my hair.  My skin was
beginning to warm, the feeling returning as the blood that had
raced to protect my internal organs from the glacial spring
passing itself off as a pool now returned to feed the flesh; my
own natural pale skin tone was returning.  A residual shiver
issued up from me and I began to feel the sun's restorative
powers go to work; chasing away the shivers.
"Awwww", came her voice full of disappointment from five feet
away.  I had been standing in profile to her, and as I glanced
over, I saw her gaze on my crotch.
"The icebath made your hot little hard-on go away", she said with
a pout that was strangely incongruent for such a primal, muscle-
packed woman.
I stuttered an apology; but I didn't get far...
"Don't apologize", she said, sitting up.  "A cute little guy
wiggles by in a tiny little speedo with his butt cheeks all pink
and pretty and bare for me to see; what more do I need?", she
asked in a soothing, sensual tone.
I shrugged, embarassed.  I was holding the towel in front of my
crotch.
"Then he gets so excited being around a big, pulsin' slab of
gorgeous muscle girl like me that his cock starts saluting. 
That's really quite a nice compliment..."
She was talkiing as though I had just sent her flowers and candy
instead of dreaming of doing things with her that made a lifetime
of memory and you only repented on a deathbed...
"It's too bad", she said, as she slowly moved up on the lounge
and sat over it's edge.  The thick muscles of her arms went to
work, pulsing and throbbing as she put her hands on either side
of her and pushed down; the effect was to make the subcutaneous
sinews ripple.  I watched them exhibit their strength, moving and
flexing as though they were living entities she kept packaged
underneath her darkly tan skin, waiting for a chance to go to
work for their mistress. I thought that it would take both my
hands, together, to encircle one of her massive upper arms.  An
angry muscle stared me down.
I sat on my own lounge, facing her, our knees touching.  It was
the first contact my flesh would have with her...My legs, long an
object of compliments from the ladies I had dated, looked frail
and spindly next to her dark and powerful thighs.
"Yeah", she said, nodding as she leaned into me, the big breasts
straining the skanty top, the scent of cocoa butter reaching me. 
Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and spilled across the chest. 
I noticed the deep vertical muscular crevice running down her
chest, dividing that big hot torso into two equally hard and
gorgeous hemispheres.  "It's really too bad."
She saw the questioning look on my face.  What was too bad?
"Cause seein' that cute little package sproutin' in your little
bikini briefs made me want to do something very bad...", she said
with a playful leer; I was watching her stomach muscles pulse as
she talked.  My pulse raced and my chest heaved; my heart was
doing a marathon in a sprint.
"What was that?", I asked, lowering my voice conspiratorally,
expecting a flirtatious give-and-take session that danced lightly
on the topic and retreated nimbly when the heat went too high.
She laughed.  "`What was that'"?, she repeated my words, mimicing
the coy tone in my voice.  She tossed back her hair with a casual
sweep of a hand, and brought her face to within inches of mine,
smiling with small and even white teeth. Careful to lean into me
just right, so as to cause every muscle to lock in a heaving
flex, she spoke in a voice that was matter-of-fact and hard and
bereft of the girlish tones she had used up to now.
"I wanted to take you home and fuck the shit out of you, that's
what..."
In the movies, when the wolf insults the object of the pursuit
with a raffish comment, the wolf would get slapped and watch
chagrined as the object huffed and hustled away; the wolf would
raise a hand to the handmarks rapidly reddening and smile and
enjoy the sight of the wiggling behind as it disappeared around
the corner; knowing victory would come all the same.
That being the case, why move at all?  Being a guy, too, my basic
reaction was different.  The line she had hit me with, no; slain
me with just now; looking hard into my soul as she bit off the
words with a deliberate take-it-or-leave-it tone had struck a
buried primal cord within me. My heart was now thumping loudly in
my head, and I thought I could taste blood in my mouth.  I could;
I had bitten my tongue in the electric shock of desire that the
words and the sights of this Amazon She-Devil had given me.
She didn't move a muscle, literally.  She was motionless, so
close that her breath wafted down upon me; it was sweet and
smelled of vanilla.  She was waiting for some reaction.
My guard went down; knocked down by this slab of female in a
bikini made of nothing more than tiny straps and shiny buckles.
I tried to be nonchalant; hold on to some degree of manly cool,
even if this woman was twice my size; but there was just no way I
could...Not as my eyes and my soul ate up the hard mountainous
terrain of her body...

"Ohhhh", I said as the breath rushed out of my lungs.  I guess
what I was doing was swooning; for I lost my balance and almost
teetered over into her arms.  I wish I had...
"See what happens when you dive into water that's too cold?", she
said soothingly as she leaned back on the lounge, chiseled abs
flexing.  "You look faint.  I hope it's nothing I've said", she
said, innocently, her blue-blue eyes dancing mischeviously,
sparkling; the sweet girlish lady-like tone suddenly returning
now.  The only parts of our bodies that had touched, even now,
were our knees.  For a second, my mind flashed irrationally on
the villanous creature in one of the Star Trek movies; they had
their sexual organs right on their kneecaps and I realized that
if we were from Alpha Centauri VI I might be having an orgasm
right now...
All things being equal, I almost was.  My erection had sprung
back into life; warm blood refilling the cold tissues of my
loins.  Her eyes went right to it, licking her lips.
"Now that's what I like to see", she said encouragingly.  "A nice
hard little cock that knows what it likes..."  She flexed the
huge slab of muscle that was her arm; a bowling ball came to life
under the tan female flesh; veins just beneath the skin pumped
blood to feed it and give it life.  I wanted to touch it.

God, her waist was tiny!  I thought I could almost fit my hands
around it, if she invited me to try.  The tiny strip of her
bikini bottoms barely covered her genitals; she must have had a
session with a razor last night, too.  I wish I had been there. 
Even without those wonderful muscles that years of hard
irontraining had added to her body, she would have been perfect. 
She was proportioned in the absolutely classic lines of
mythological heroines...
My erection raged. I instinctively covered it; not so much out of
embarassment as a subconcious desire to protect it in the company
of this sexual steamroller.  I held the towel in front of me.
Her brow knit; she frowned.
"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doin', bikini boy?  Move
that damn thing away...", she said in a voice mixed with anger
and disappointment.  And a lot of muscle. I did.
"Good.  I like to keep my eyes on the, uh, developments, y'know? 
Keep it where I can see it, okay?"  Even through the tight
constraints of the briefs, my penis pulsed in time with my rapid
heartbeat, as though a second heart was beating, throbbing in my
loins.  For her, it was...
Her eyes scoured me like laser beams once again.  She got up. 
"One thing's for sure, you're no beach boy, are you?  You're
gettin' red as a beet..."
I looked down.  She was right; my pale flesh was burning quickly
in the powerful sunlight...
But as I looked up... Geez.
She was six-six if she was a foot; a mountain of a woman full of
dangerous curves and muscle that looked ready to bury an
unsuspecting climber in an avalanche.  Angela didn't say anything
about that; up to now I thought my Bosslady was the biggest woman
I would ever know.  But even her amazing body took a second place
to this gladiatrix.  I tried not to swoon again as her long
shadow fell over me.
She instructed me to lay down on the lounge on my back, and she
began applying the thick white sunblock with the rough
familiarity of a drunken, lusty bride.  She didn't speak as she
did, rough female hands taking rude advantages; and she seemed to
be mentally measuring my body as she went about the task;
surveying my own rather diminutive form that I tried to keep firm
in the little spare time Ursula gave me...
She had covered my body thoroughly, running hands over my slender
arms as though she was handling a child.  She had coated me with
the protectant now, except for my lower abdomen---the area of
flesh that was seeing sun for the first time. 
She had saved that for last.  
There was nothing shy about this woman; that much was obvious to
even the most obtuse reader by now.  By I didn't expect what she
did now...
She sat down on the lounge, lowering herself onto my lower
thighs, and reached down to the waistband of the small trunks,
what there was of it.  She pulled it back several inches from my
skin, and with the other hand, whose palm was full of a small
hill of the thick cream, ventured under the suit, down much
further than she needed to go, boldly exploring my genitals.   
Genitals that by now, were straining; the penis was throbbing,
testicles tight against the body in expectation of eruption.  Her
self-assured gesture revealed my not-so-subtle secret; one meant
for her to discover.  As her hand took note of the bare clean-
shaven skin of my groin, a smile lit up; a strange smile, half-
lascivious, half-delighted; as though she had just been
complimented on her body, or been done a favor she hadn't
expected.  She didn't hurry as her hands explored either; her
fingers played with my testicles while she looked me hard in the
eye. The hand made a moving lump in the swimsuit as it migrated
it's way along my privates.  She ran three fingers along the
shaft of my penis; let her long nails lightly scratch the pulsing
flesh.  I remembered to look around, and saw that only the mother
and the toddler were at the pool now, far away at the other end. 
I had forgotten by now that I was working at all...
She knew when to ease off; I was near explosion and almost wanted
the musclegirl to take me, use me and humiliate me under all her
dominant powerful bulk she wore so coolly, to finish me off right
then and there; but that wasn't in her plans.
I looked up to her, awaiting orders.  I would have done anything
to...
She got up.  "Okay, turn over..."
With my erection raging, that was difficult! But I obeyed her, of
course...
She ran her lotioned hands quickly over my body.  She paid
special attention to the buttocks that were mostly bared by the
scanty back of the green speedo, and spent much more time on them
than she needed as she slathered them thickly white with
suncream.  She finally acknowledged this.
"Hey, man, I'm an ass girl--what can I say?", she asked, as she
cupped them in her slippery hands, playing with the flesh.  She
seemed to have stopped, and I was about to turn over, when a
shock went through the two basted buttocks, down the legs, out
through the feet...
She had smacked my left cheek with considerable force, the sound
of flesh cracking against flesh filling the air.  My hand went to
the injured area at once; her hand had left a perfect impression
on the white-painted buttock.  I shot her a glance, trying to
keep the anger out of my expression.  I had no wish to tangle
with her, and I couldn't afford to make her mad.  I remembered
that I still had to get a date tonight...
"No offense, bikini boy", she said after she had nonchalantly
sauntered over to her loungs and folded that great and vast body
back down in repose. The sight of her own rear, bared by her
insignificant swimsuit, caused air to rush out of my lungs again.
Her rear was comprised of two perfect, iron-trained buttocks that
jiggled not at all...
She adjusted the handrests so that the back of the lounge raised
up; she was sitting comfortably, shifting that massive body so
that she'd be just right...
"I just like smackin' a cute little ass now and then...Makes me
feel good..."
She ignored me for a while now, slipping on a pair of dark
sungalasses and offering her face to the sun.  So what if my
erection raged so badly I was nearly doubled over in pain?  She
had had her fun.  That was all she cared about.  And that was
okay with me.
I don't think I took my eyes off that heaving flesh once.
Thick and deep and chiseled muscle was at rest on the amazing
frame of this beautiful woman.  I watched her breath rise and
fall.  I felt used. I felt cheap.  But I loved it.

I didn't hear her get up.  My eyes were closed, trying to think
up some way of getting a date with this cool and vast sexual
predator of a woman while pretending to be sunbathing.  Suddenly
a splash sounded over the water, and I looked up.
Her lounge was empty.  Oh, God, had I fallen asleep?  Ursula
would be so disappointed....

I got up and visually searched the grounds; only the mom and her
kid were present, as before, far away down the olympic-sized
pool.  I thought I was alone until I heard water moving in the
pool, and small even splashes.
Raye-Anne had dived into the arctic water and was swimming the
length of the pool with the practiced ease and speed of an
Olympic champion.  Her wet hair was plastered flat to her head,
and thick muscular arms acted as propellant for the hard perfect
body; she stroked an expert freestyle stroke faster than I could
walk.  The bare flesh of her ass reflected the sun, covered as it
was in a watery film.  I thought the seat of my trunks was brief;
if it was, her's was nonexistent; just a string between the round
muscle-trained buttocks.
She touched the far wall and vanished under the water.  I didn't
see her for nearly half a minute, before she re-emerged mere feet
from the edge where I had wandered as I watched her perform. 
When I was a kid, I was struck by the image of a creature rising
out of the depths, unexpectedly; like a creature in a Japanese
movie coming to wreak havoc on land-dwellers...But the beautiful
woman who climbed out of the blue water erased the thought as
soom as it had formed.
The swim had forced the blood to her limbs, and as it rushed to
her muscles, running water cascading back down to the blue mirror
benath.  The exercise had given the effect of inflating her
sinewy architecture even more; she seemed to have been carved
from oak with chisel and hammer, such was the definition of the
Amazon Goddess.  She seemed to breathe only slightly, as though
the exercise was something that did not offer any real challenge
to her cardiovascular system.
She had climnbed out and stood dripping wet, sweeping the
gorgeous mane of hair behind her, squeezing the excess water from
it with a familiar ease.
I had anticipated her desires just a split-second earlier and
intercepted her in her path, and reached the plush thick
terrycloth towel first.  I turned and felt the cold water
dripping off her body onto mine. I offered her the towel, but she
made her wishes clear without a word; just a look; like some sort
of mental shorthand that we had established.
I toweled off the brawny woman with ardor, letting the thirsty
cloth drink the dampness from this creature who had maddened me
with desire.  Stay in control, I urged myself, for Ursula.
I had another pounding erection.
And I noticed only then how strange it was---that water was so
cold it was almost an iceberg; barely liquid.  But her flesh was
warm; I noticed it in the brief moment or two that my skin might
touch hers as I toweled her down.
That icy-cold didn't seem to have any effect on her.

I was still patting the hard flesh down, gulping hard as I did,
when she walked away, leaving me patting at the air.  She
strutted over to the lounge and began picking up her white
cushion cover.  She threw it into a straw-weave bag and as she
did, she pulled out that pair of dark sunglasses and a Raider
Baseball Cap; the black of the cap set off the almost-white
blonde of her hair.  She reached under the lounge and pulled out
a pair of gold high-heeled Greek sandals, with long strings
attached to either side of each one.  She tossed them to me,
where I made a fumbling attempt to catch them.  After retreiving
them from the ground, she pulled me to her with the flick of an
index finger.
"Put those on me, and tie them nice 'n high", was all she said.
I slipped the exotic footwear onto her small feet, and made sure
that the strings wrapped around her lower legs evenly, and stared
at her bulging calves.  I tied small knots in the thin leather
just below her knees.
I looked up to her as I crouched at her high-heeled feet.  I felt
small and ashamed as I looked up at her vast molten muscularity
towered over me; nearly-naked and raw, womanly and unforgiving,
ready to take whatever caught her eye, with no apologies as she
took her pleasure or her fun. And those breasts; bursting,
straining the tiny top that would lose their struggle and moment
now...
The shoes gave her an elevator effect, as if she needed it. She
was seven feet of hot womanly muscularity as she picked up the
bag and turned, to begin walking away.
I watched the heart-stopping bare behind undulate rhythmically
beneath that glorious sinewy back; and it was so perfect I almost
let it disappear without speaking, not wanting to disturb the
perfect and elemental natural beauty she presented.
I had to clear my throat three times before calling out.
"Excuse me", I called to her.
She was a good thirty feet away by then, and putting more and
more distance between us every second.  For a second I imagined
what she looked like naked; it was easy, as only two small
strings of cloth, one on each hemisphere of her gorgeous body,
made any pretense at covering her.  When she heard me, she
turned, languidly, almost as though she expected things to happen
just this way.  She put a hand on her hip impatiently; tapping
her high-heeled encased foot.  She wasn't going to come to me...
Those breasts were like beacons in a foggy night; twin
lighthouses calling me in to shore; to safety...or danger?
"I didn't get your name", I lied when I had caught up with her,
still staring at the bountiful bosom that poured out around the
edges of the frail bikini top.
"That's 'cause I didn't tell you my name", she said plainly and
matter-of-factly.  There was an awkward moment.  I pretended to
be shy and breathless; I didn't have to fake it much, if at all.
Even behind the sunglasses I could feel her laser eyes.  I looked
around, my head down, smiling uncomfortably; finally letting my
eyes rest somewhere just above the ground.
"Why?", she asked. "Is it important for you to know my name?"
I shrugged and mumbled, "I'd just like to know, that's all...."
"Raye-Anne.  Raye-Anne Hallison.   But my friends call me Raye-
Raye..."
She turned, her hard face disappearing behind a thick slab of
deltoid; and started leaving again; walking briskly now, buttocks
churning, as though turning over and over...
She was gonna make me earn this one...
Last chance...
"C-can I call you Raye-Raye?", I called out to her now, hoping
that the hot hunk of blonde woman would respond; would give me
some daylight now, a little leeway; a little mercy...
Now she did come to me.  She stood very still at first, adjusting
the strap of the weaved bag on her shoulder, as though debating
it.  Then she started walking slowly, very slowly, over to me,
the hips swinging wildly, sensuously; the movement of a giant
Playboy Bunny made no less feminine by the many dozens of pounds
of thick muscle she had added to her body.  She sauntered over to
me in long strides, the bare powerful thighs working, and showing
it as the quads churned and pulsed; she knew how to walk the
walk, and she smiled the smile of a woman who knew she was in
charge. Her breasts swung in heart-stopping rhythm from side to
side, and gave one last sway even after she had stopped her sexy
stride.
I stood looking up to her. I felt the coolness of her shadow as
it fell over me, shielding me momentarily from the merciless sun.
God, she was a titanically tall woman. I felt absolutely dwarfed,
by both her magnificent physique and her skyscraping height. Her
chiseled bulk hovered above me.
"Let me see if I understand you", she said academically as she
removed her sunglasses and twirled them round and round.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief and satisfaction; all along,
she'd known...
I traced the veins in her arm with my eyes and watched them
disappear under the bulge of a gigantic bicep.


               (c) WIG, LTD 1993  All rights reserved

                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.:
                      The Flexing Detective
                               in

              "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon"


                          Chapter Four:

                  Report to the MuscleBossLady


"Great work, JT,"  Ursula said, her hugely-muscled arms folded
across her lush chest, biceps peaked and rock-hard, huge...
She nodded with approval as she swiveled back and forth slowly in
her leather chair, smiling slightly with satisfaction; I sat on
the edge of her desk and basked in the glow of my Muscular
BossLady's compliments.  I had filled her in on my encounter with
the jumbo-sized blonde on the way over; and we were making plans
for tonight's cloak and dagger operation.  I had beamed all the
way back to the office, even after Angela and Sally had chided me
on the oversize lady escort on whose arm they had seen me exit
the pool area.  
I was glad that I had pleased my BossLady.  But...

"JT?....Hello, JT?" Ursula leaned into my field of view, but I
was far away...
I didn't hear her at first.  My attention was wandering; the
events of the last two hours had been too overwhelming and
compelling.  I had my date, alright.  I had asked the gorgeous
Raye-Anne out for the evening; six-foot- six inches of tough-
minded muscle and abundant cleavage packed hard and tight in the
body of a Pet of the Month, beneath the face of a midwestern
cheerleader...

"....out with you? No," the blonde giantess denied me, with a
shake of her head and a look of disgust, as she continued to
twirl the sunglasses.
"I won't go out with you.  Raye-Anne doesn't date runts.  But
don't cry, little man.  You're welcome to come over tonight at
seven for some dinner and a little TV.  If you behave yourself,
maybe I'll even let you watch me hoist some iron around in my
gym.  How's that?"
I nodded enthusiastically, not sure whether I was acting...
"That's what I thought", she sneered.  "Somehow, I didn't think
your social schedule had any major events on for this evening,
huh?  And don't you dare come to my doorstep in your cute little
I-wanna-get-laid Sunday best.  I want to see you at my door in
that hot little speedo, boy.  And nothin' else.  Get me?..."

And I would've been happy to leave it at that, but my blonde
musclegirl wasn't going to.  As soon as we had finalized our
plans she had told me to take her arm and walk out of the pool
area with her.  

I told her that I could walk just fine by myself, but she wasn't
having it; reaching down for me with her powerful limbs she took
my hand and tucked it up under her huge, thickly muscled right
arm; my hand folded around it, the fingertips wrapped around the
rocklike peak of her bicep...
"Walk me home, speedo-boy", she had commanded.
We walked out like that, like lopsided lovers; and as we passed
the mother as she sat under an umbrella at the far end of the
pool, I saw her shoot me a strange, quizzical look; seven-foot-
tall-in-heels Amazons whose huge physiques burst with muscle was
one thing, she must have figured.  But what was the deal with the
guy who was on her thick and massive arm, like a schoolgirl with
a crush on a lifeguard; with an erection pulsing in his tight
bikini swimsuit?

"You got a problem, lady?", Raye-Anne asked the smugly smiling
mom, stopping to tower threateningly over the small woman.  Raye-
Anne had shaken me off and ordered me to stay put by the
poolgate--"while I tend to this `Little prissy asshole'", she had
said through clenched teeth...
"Uh, young lady, tend to your business", the woman huffed,
sliding her reading glasses down onto her nose and waving towards
me with the paperback book she held in her hands and had been
pretending to read.  It was a suggestion that was to go ignored.
"This is my business", Raye-Anne announced, putting both hands on
her hips and flexing thundering thick muscle that towered over
the skinny figure.  The woman swallowed hard and began to lose
her matronly cool, her face reddening; she was getting flustered. 
Heck, she was getting scared...
"Listen, you old rag, who I pick up is my own goddamn business",
Raye-Anne growled.  "Just because you can't get laid anymore
doesn't mean I shouldn't.  After all, I've got the stuff guys
want, don't I?", she pouted at the matron, flexing a gigantic arm
thick with years of pushing heavy iron; and lorded it over the
lightweight female below her, who was all knobby knees and elbows
and sagging bosom in a two-piece suit.
Strange how I recalled that the woman had actually made an
impression on me as I had first entered the pool area; she had
even seemed attractive and youthful back then.
...a hundred years ago...
The woman's child was sleeping on the next lounge; oblivious.
"Well!", the woman harumphed. "Such language was never used when
I was a young girl... And your outfit and that of your gigolo is
downright disgusting," she informed us, voice wavering. 
And she turned back to the dimestore novel she was reading.  Her
hands were shaking with fear...
Raye-Anne wasn't moving.  She had a point to make.
"Get up", the muscular volcano of a woman ordered as she towered
from on high.  She absently readjusted the tiny bikini top that
merely decorated her huge round breasts, rather than contain them
or give support they did not need.  Her icy gaze never left the
figure below her.
The woman raised the book up to her face, and wished that Raye-
Anne would just go away...
"When I tell you to do something", Raye-Anne Hallison announced
as though reciting a law, "you better shake your flat little ass
and do what I say!"  
The air became more than tense, as thickly chiseled layers of
ladymuscle tensed and prepared to correct a disobedient stranger;
readying an attack.  
There wasn't a breath of air, and the water lay flat and mirror-
like, reflecting the washed-denim sky.
The woman would not look up, probably thinking that this bad
dream would just go away if she kept reading her Danielle Steel.
She saw the blonde-haired giantess spring for her, but could
offer little defense other than a weak wave at the thick and
veined forearm as it reached down for her, knocking her umbrella
off it's holder; it teetered and tumbled to the ground.  The
paperback book fell to the concrete, finding a puddle; it soaked
in the sun-heated splash and was instantly ruined...
Raye-Anne's seven feet of dominant muscle made short work of the
woman, as she first lifted and then held her suspended over the
ground by her dyed hair; and made her dance and dangle like a
puppet on a string.  The massive muscle of her arm flexed this
way and that, triceps pulsing with each little jerk of the
frightened woman; who sought relief from the iron vise of a grip
by grabbing the lushly muscled arm, small hands wrapping
themselves desperately around the thick limb, as she kicked at
the air futilely. 
Raye-Anne never stopped smiling.
The woman winced hard and let out small yelps of pain, refusing
to let a loud cry disturb her young sleeping son, and disclose
his mommy's humiliation at the hands of a she-hulk.
Raye-Anne walked with the woman, still suspended in the air, as
though she was anxious to dispose of a disgusting bug; and
brought her over to the edge of the pool, where she held her
suspended over the blue icewater...
"Listen, drycunt", she said, with a nonchalant tone in her voice.
"The next time you see me I expect to be addressed with the
respect I'm due, you get me...?", she asked, almost in a yawn.
The woman did not answer; her reading glasses slipped off her
face and fell into the watery icebox below...
Raye-Anne did not lose her temper as I might have expected. 
Instead she flashed a razor sharp fingernail; it looked sharp
enough to cut a steak.  She caught the front of the woman's
flowery faded two-piece swimsuit and proceeded to slice it down
the front.  The woman's pale naked flab slid out and fell
exposed, long past it's expiration date for displaying at
poolside; stretch marks predominant across her the white of her
lower belly.  
The out-of-date outfit fell away through the woman's frantic
clutching hands and into the cold blue beneath her, where it
floated limply, in pieces.
The nude woman stifled a sob and Raye-Anne let loose a laugh at
the woman's humiliation.  
I stood in shock and awe at the avalanche of muscle and cruelty
that was pouring from the big bad blonde.

"Say you're sorry, little naked lady.  Say that you're real,
real, sorry you made me mad, and that you don't want to go into
the cold water.  Beg me, darlin'..." Raye-Anne demanded, her
voice smooth and low, her thick muscle rigid and untroubled by
the woman's bodyweight as she held her with one tree-trunk of an
arm.
The little naked woman tried to kick herself free one more time,
but it was pointless; and Raye-Anne smacked the small white
bottom with a flashing palm.  The woman yelped with pain as the
crack of flesh on flesh filled the air...
"I...I'm sorry, miss.  I-I didn't m-mean to make you mad", she
struggled with words she didn't want to say.
"You offended my little guy, too.  Really, lady, you have no
manners, do you?"
"Yes, I m-mean no", came words from a head that would have been
shaking with fear, except that Raye-Anne was holding it by the
hair, forcing the scrawny shoulders to do the squirming.  The
dyed hair was suffering for her insolence, and some of it was
coming out, giving way in Raye-Anne's grasp; the gray roots
betraying the black hairdye and fluttering down into the water
beneath her.
"Silly lady.  You just can't make up your little mind, can you?
You know what I do when I can't think clearly, lady? I take a
cold bath.  Maybe you should, too..."
She slapped her lightly, with contempt, the handprint forming in
red on the woman's cheek.  She began crying softly.
"Now, now, little lady.  No crying", she admonished her, waving
the index finger of her free hand in her face.  "Like they said
in the movie---"There's no crying in swimming!", my big blonde
taunted with a laugh...
The woman tried to dissuade her, begging; but the only word she
spoke came just as she disappeared under the sheet of freezing
blue with a small splash, and the word was drowned in a frigid
little wave of white water.
The word, I think, had been a plaintive, sobbing, "please".
Raye-Anne brushed her hands together in congratulations to
herself, satisfied she had made her point.  She leaned over and
peered into the pool for a second, her broad muscle-packed back
lowering.  Perfect bare iron-trained buttocks stared me down...
The woman shot to the surface with a loud gasp, her hair
plastered down on her skull; her child stirred.  
Raye-Anne was done with her, and she bounded over to me with
renewed energy, her blue eyes dancing with the pleasure of
domination, showgirl hips swinging with the sexy rhythm of her
confident stride.
She towered over me, merciless muscle and big breast dwarfing me;
I felt much like a child myself as I looked up at the impossibly
huge and perfect woman.  
She placed my arm inside hers again; fingers wrapping around it
as though from memory.  I rubbed the onerous bicep, thick and
commanding, with my free hand, as though to soothe it after the
strain of putting smart-mouthed old ladies in their place.
As the gate slammed behind us, I heard the older woman kick water
and drag herself out of the pool, coughing and spluttering much
as I had done.

Minutes later, I was in the back seat of Ursula's car; every time
I closed my eyes some moment of the last half-hour replayed
itself in my mind...

We had let Angela out of the car in front of our building; she
sashayed over to her Supra and, gears grinding and screaming as
she stripped them, drove off, the shiny sports car jerking and
sputtering.  Ursula made a comment to the effect that that girl
didn't know what she was doing in that car as we slid easily into
the parking spot the little rich girl had vacated.  Already I was
distracted; and no sooner had we parked and I began to climb out
than the lightweight pants, really nothing more than thin
hospital issue pajamas I always used for the beach, caught the
metal projection on the doorframe of the big car; and the old
fabric, weakened from years of use, tore apart completely, the
pants all but falling off my body.
Ursula found it mildly amusing.  Her assistant was standing on a
city street in the small swimsuit.  Fortunately, there was nobody
around; this was one of the quieter sections of town, and the
heat of the day had encouraged people to stay inside, air
conditioners on full...
Still, I wasn't going to press my luck, and I told the giggling
musclewoman that I would meet her inside.  I hustled around back,
to steal my way into my bosslady's office on the freight
elevator...
I was less likely to run into anybody that way.  Who needed to be
standing in the lobby in my state; trying to explain why I was
dressed in a Chippendale's outfit?
The door wasn't supposed to open from the outside;  it was for
emergency use in the case of a fire, but I had my methods.  I
kept a long sharp stick beneath the adjacent dumpster, and I had
pulled it out and was inching the door open when a hand went to
my shoulder and...

"Well, well, well!", came a familiar voice from behind me.
I turned and saw Officer Maria, standing close behind me in
shadow, and dressed in a summer-issue policewoman's outfit.  She
wore it tight; tailored and tapered to flatter her wide frame;
the cloth stretched to bursting across the big boobs.  The skirt
did her more than justice;  tightly hugging the curvy hips that
extended from the wasp-waist.  She reached automatically for the
waistband of the dark blue skirt and pulled it higher; another
three inches of her showgirl legs crept out from under the hem. 
And, under the short sleeves, were those biceps beginning to
swell on her arms?
"Well, well, well,", she said again.  "I think I'm in love!", she
purred, leaning into me with warm vanilla on her breath and lust
in her bursting bosom.  She was a tall woman; six feet of purring
blonde law enforcement taking a delight in my bare-skinned
condition. 
"You know, JT, you look so good you're almost illegal", she
purred, leaning in to me and reaching around brazenly for a
nearly-bare buttock; she cupped it as though she owned it and
juggled it in her palm. 
"Maybe I should take you in to the station", she teased, all
raging hormones.  This swimsuit was bringing out the beast in
these queen-sized ladies...
"The other girls on the job would love to see you in those
briefs...", she added, leaning even closer and letting the big
boobs rub against me.
I told her I was on a case for my boss; undercover.
"Undercover? That makes sense, JT.  You've certainly sneaked into
my heart...Nice work if you can get it", she said, pseudo-
seductively, pumping a broad shoulder up and down.  "I was kind
of hoping you were wearing that hot little thing to catch the eye
of a certain well-built lady cop who could use the excitement",
she said, with just a bit of seductive pout.  I never noticed
what great eyes she had; pale, pale blue like the water of the
pool I had just left...

I thanked her for the case that she had steered our way.
She waved off my thanks with a hand. "No charge.  Tell Ursula I
hope she's feeling better, little lover..."
I turned to go into the building; the stick was holding the door
open for me, and as I pushed it wide to disappear into the dark
interior, Officer Maria gave my rear end a playfully girlish pat.
It stung; she was stronger than she realized and I jumped just a
bit into the entryway.  As the door closed behind me, the last
view I had was of the big-built, statuesque policewoman raising
her skirt to her waist, flashing a tiny black bikini g-string at
me and smiling a smile that said she meant business.
The door shut and I was enveloped in darkness.

Ordinarily, that playful spank-and-flash would have weighed
heavily on my mind for weeks.  But with so much going on, I had
to force it to the recesses of my brain.  After all, I had a date
with an Amazon!
And I wasn't completely sure if it was business, pleasure, or a
dangerous combination of the two...

"JT, are you with me?", Ursula asked again, this time putting a
manicured hand on my thigh.  The touch of her flesh woke me from
the daydream, a replay of everything that had happened at the
pool...
I looked up at her; the late-day sunlight streamed into the room
on her; and I wondered what she would have looked like by that
pool, in that tiny bikini...
"Huh?", I said, aware only now that my mouth was hanging half-
open. "Oh, sure, Sally", I confirmed.  "It's just that this has
all been a bit overwhelming..."
But Ursula looked right through her slender assistant as he sat
perched on her desk in the brief swimsuit.  Poor JT, she must
have thought.  He never gave up...
She rested her chin in her hand as she leaned on her desk,
letting herself come close to me now, turning her beauty, both
facial and bodily, upon me.  Though I didn't realize what she was
doing at the time, I did later.  She knew my big weakness was
Amazonic Lady Bodybuilders, and even though she had always
treated me like a faithful kid brother, she knew when it was time
to use what she had for the good of the case.  She couldn't risk
having me swept off my feet by the blonde She-Hulk, and so she
turned her charms, at long last, on me...
"Y'know, JT?  Seeing you like this is enough to give a big hunk
of woman like me ideas", she purred.  The hand that she had
placed on my thigh to catch my attention remained there, and she
rubbed my flesh lightly with her fingernails, rising high, near
my crotch, tracing seductive little circles that left
imperceptible scratches on the sun-reddened skin.
Ursula, I had thought, my heart racing... 
At last...!

"Promises, promises, my big Bosslady", I said, falling into the
deep and dark blue pools of her eyes; the water in this pool was
fine--warm and soothing; no arctic temperatures lurking to freeze
the bodies of loyal assistants...
I did not notice that they were virtually identical to Raye-Anne
Hallison's...
She grinned like a she-wolf as her gaze alit on the skin bared by
my tiny green trunks.
Seventy-five inches and two hundred and thirty pounds of she-hunk
was getting ready to close in and conquer easy prey.
Did she know how easily she could have me at her feet?
She wheeled herself closer to me and my hand went to the big
bicep, dwarfing my hand as it lay upon it, and I felt it's casual
strength at rest inside the darkly olive-toned flesh of this
awesome woman.
And she reached for me with two huge arms...

"You better bring a box of condoms, JT", Ursula had warned me as
I sat on her lap.   She was letting me explore her huge body with
hungry and trembling hands; not knowing that I had done just that
yesterday, on far more intimate a level.  In the last twenty-four
hours, she seemed to have been transformed by the prospect of
work and a healthy payday; she was almost the old Ursula of old,
and the slight tremor I had seen in her hands earlier today was
gone now. She was on her game, and I was glad to be a part of it.
Her deltoids looked as though they had been made by a sculptor;
layer and layer of bare brown muscle accentuated her broad
shoulders, and I wanted to get my hungry mouth on them as they
throbbed and pulsed on my bosslady. 
My hands looked small on the glorious ladymuscle, strangely pale
and thin as they ran along the wide and dark thundering flesh.
Up to now I had kept my hands off the healthy breasts, though. 
Strange, but exploring her muscles seemed somehow less sexual or
daring than would groping the large womanly glands; but my groin
did not know the difference; and I sported another painful
erection.
"How many is this today, JT?", she asked, her eyes moving only
very briefly to the lump that throbbed again in my green trunks.
"Why, Sally", I asked coyly, "whatever do you mean?"
In truth, blood had entered and exited my penis so many times
today, I thought that eruption was imminent, and might come
spontaneously any second.  
Maybe even on the lap of my big hot BossLady...

"Now, listen, my little Guy Friday, this is important", she
admonished me, giving me a little shake on her knee. But I wasn't
really listening.  I was watching a raging river of vein split
into tributaries down her thick forearm, tracing each one with my
finger.
"JT, this is important, now...", she cautioned again.  "I want
you to listen to what I'm saying..." 
She poked me with a shining red talon. 
I didn't take my eyes from that raging Mississippi Vein. 
"What happens if I don't?", I asked her playfully, tracing a
rivulet that wrapped around bowling balls that called themselves
biceps...
"JT,!", she said, raising her voice just a bit, dark blue oceans
of eyes flashing and boiling in a hot flare. "What will happen? 
For starters?", she asked, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing
me to look up to her eyes now harsh and joyless. The powerful arm
went to her waist, and her thumb hooked inside the thick binding
that encircled it. 
"For starters I'll take off this big leather belt and tan your
bare little hiney with it.  And don't think I won't, JT. You
wouldn't like that, would you?  Or would you?"
Hard deltoid met my hand.  I didn't have an answer, so I kissed
it as it pulsed and throbbed under my grasp.
Too late...
Ursula twisted me around on her lap, and in moments I was laying
across her lap.  A steady powerful tug and my speedo was peeled
down around my knees.  I heard the rustle and crackle of leather
as she whipped the black belt from around her waist.  I was about
to be put in my place, big-time.
I struggled with an apology...
"Sally, I mean Ursula, I'm sor..."

The sharp cracking whip of the leather came down on my bare
behind. I jumped as a skyrocket went off in my head that exploded
into stars; it then came to earth and landed on the tender flesh
of my bottom.  And I braced for more...
She used her hand now; letting it slap noisily across my behind,
not using a fraction of her strength but piling on the spanks
now, just hard enough for my bared bottom to become red with her
handprints and sting with her punishment...
Finally, she reached over for my chin and tilted it towards her.
I was breathless with pain, shock, and excitement.

"Have I made my point, JT? I mean business...", she stated.  One
look at her grim visage and I knew she meant it.  The huge arm
she flexed and nodded down at were solid-gold proof.
I nodded, chastened and brought to heel...

Bosslady pulled the drawers up to their rightful and more
dignified place, and maneuvered me back onto her lap.
She said nothing, but threw the thick strap of discipline over
her thick, broad shoulder and stared at her wayward assistant.
"I'm sorry, Ursula, " I said, buttocks stinging.  I used her
given name--it had the hard and strong sound that suited her now,
and I sighed, content to be put in my place so forcefully even as
the pale flesh of my bottom was afire.  Her physique was
tightened with anger or stress, maybe both...
Every musclegroup was carved into contest hardness, sharp and
thick muscle groups rounded up into hard mountains separated by
deep ravines that looked as though they were created with a sharp
knife.  They were hard and big and worthy of worship...
"I'll do everything you say..."

Ursula now reached for me and picked me up off her lap as easily
as she might a bag of potatos, and placed me onto her desktop.
The feat was amazing in itself; I weigh a good one hundred and
forty pounds, and she strained not at all as she took me in her
huge arms, muscles like boulders; flexing, and lifted me off her
lap and plopped me onto the desk in front of her.  She looked me
up and down; not the first time a powerfully built woman had done
that to me today...
I congratulated myself on being in demand.
She held a silver pen in her hand, placing it across her lips,
and sat tapping it against her painted mouth.
"You have quite a cute little physique on you, y'know that, JT?"
I looked down, embarrassed at her boldness but grateful for it,
however long it had taken for her to notice...
"Thanks, Sally", I said. I looked up after a moment. "But it's
nothing compared to yours. You're so big and tall and...and..."
Sally pulled the pen away from the lipsticked lips; some of it
had rubbed off on the shining metal. 
"Stacked?", she asked, crossing her legs as a shaft of sunshine
came through the dusty half-open window.
"Uh-huh", I nodded. My eyes ran over her huge body again, wanting
to touch it again...
"And that's not all, either", I added.
"I wouldn't think so", Ursula sighed, arching a brow. "Can't
forget all this thick hard stuff I put on my bod, can we?", she
asked, making her biceps bulge and strain on oaken arms.
Breath ran from my chest.
"Gosh, Sally, you're so big", I sighed, shaking my head dreamily
and taking in the musclefeast my bosslady was feeding me.
My suit was straining, almost ready to split across the crotch.
I almost wished it would, and that I would ejaculate there and
then, and end this sweet torture...
And Sally laughed quietly at my reaction, verbal and physical.
She swiveled in her chair, her legs thick and full of stored-up
power.  One of her high heels hung off her foot, and she wiggled
it playfully.  
Downstairs, on the street, there was a collision of some sort;
sounds of crashing and crunching metal and honking blaring horns
came through the open window.  Moments later, four-letter
language wafted up to the fourth floor and hit our ears.  Ursula
winced at the suggestion made by the angry crier that the party
responsible had questionable parentage.

"That's what I like about you, JT.  You don't curse and swear and
act all macho and gruff. You're just you.  Always by my side, and
ever dependable. Some men don't like working for a woman; they
think that it's not cool or manly, or something...But not you,
huh?  I'm really lucky to have you with me, aren't I?", she
inquired, a trifle dreamily now, exotic eyes half-lidded.
"You certainly are, Sally", I huffed playfully, thrusting my thin
chest out and tilting back my head haughtily.
Amused, Ursula stood up, and up...
Boy, she was a tall drink of water. Or in her case, a mighty
mountain of hot sex and pulsing, thick she-muscle.  She towered
over me like a wide-bodied skyscraper, all bare thigh, big
breast, and bad-girl biceps...
"Six-three, JT", she said, as though she was reading my mind.
Though in fact, my eyes were running up her long legs...
How hard was it to guess?...
"In my spiky heels, I'm close to six-foot-seven", she purred, as
though whispering the secret ingredient to a love potion. "That's
alot of woman, huh? I'm too much for most guys to handle,
'specially with all these hot thick muscles", she said in a sing-
song of seduction.  I tried to climb her with my eyes...
She stretched like a cat, filling the room, towering over me,
making me dizzy with delight.  I could hear the blood racing
through my inner ears.  I felt faint...
"Not that they don't try, JT.  They do. But", she shrugged,
sexily, pouting, "they just can't get me off...."
She put her hands on her hips and whipped her shoulders back and
forth, her arms flapping like the wings of a beautiful and Dark
Angel of Muscle and Delight, a prize I had long thought was the
sole domain of men who could match her size...
"And getting off is very important to me, JT.  How about you?",
she asked, breathlessly...
And her muscles danced as she fluttered and flexed the hot
ladybulk back and forth, her arm-wings cutting through the dry
air; the action seemed strong enough to lift her off her feet and
let her hover overhead.  Her display fanned the stillness, and I
felt a breeze.  
If that was what heaven was like...

She brought her arms in front of her now and locked one hand
against the other in isometric contest; one densely-muscled slab
of ladymuscle arm pitted against the other, her sinews fairly
pulsing with life.  The huge arms almost seemed to be breathing,
or as though some secret heart was pumping away, deep in the
massive biceps, that made them contract and expand, contract and
expand; each group determined to dominate in this battle, like
hungry bodybuilders in competitive posedown.  
With me as the audience.
I thought that the muscle groups, pumped and flexed to enormity
right before my worshipful eyes, would soon explode; the caps of
her deltoids were full of blood and bitterness at the hours of
hard iron-pushing punishment that they had been subjected to by
their mistress.
But, man, it had been worth it.  Hadn't it?
Her musculature inflated...
So did my desire.
She towered over my head, dwarfing me with her She-Muscle.  I
felt almost asexual, insignificant and small below her.

"Looks good, huh, JT?", she asked in a soft purring tease,
through clenched teeth, as she looked down at her own arms
approvingly, and winked at me.
I nodded so hard I almost hurt my neck.
"Well", she said, making the triceps grown and dance as she
continued to push her hands together, "be a good boy and you'll
get to see a whole lot more of this big body.  Maybe I'll even
need a rubdown after the case.  Would you like to do that for me,
JT?  Would you like to come over to my bedroom and give me a nice
naked rubdown? It'll make your big bosslady feel sooo goood", she
assured me.  "Maybe I'll even let you get naked with me", she
suggested, the words like ambrosia to my senses, thrilled at the
thought and picture in my mind's eye of laying naked in her big
black bed with her, preparing to do things with her that were
beyond imagination; that I dreamed of only at night, when I was
alone and thinking of her...
She turned her back now, and flexing her car-door lats.  She
glanced at me over her shoulder, smiling as she held every muscle
in her torso frozen in a huge and awesome flex that defied
possibility...
"How about it, my little loverboy. Would you?", she asked again,
bringing her hands behind her now, half-turning and flexing one
more awe-inspiring time.  Her deltoids looked ready to revolt, so
angry was their response to this strenuous musclepose; she was
beginning to perspire, and her skin glistened, hot and
inviting...
Then she spun around again and blew me a sweet kiss through
painted lips...



               (c) WIG, LTD 1993  All rights reserved




                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.:
                      The Flexing Detective
                               in

              "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon"

                     Chapter Four (Cont'd.)


Presently, the towering muscle-packed Amazon stopped and regarded
me with clear, curious eyes that saw right through me.
"How tall are you, JT?", she asked, finally, tilting her head
inquiringly, as though the question had never occurred to her.
Her massive arms were folded against her abundant chest; they
pulsed with thick muscle, and I cleared my throat.
"F-five seven", I offered, though in fact I was closer to five-
six.
"Hmmm", she purred, stepping away from her desk now, dangerous
spiked heels clicking on the wood floor.  She walked behind me,
and now circled around the old oak; a sexy excursion around an
adoring figure who would trade, in a second, all his rights and
worldly goods to be her slave....
She was the perfect woman for me, now and always.  She was
defiantly proud of her incredible body, and would not cover it up
to assuage the fears of a frightened world; a world afraid of a
powerful woman who did not take any guff from anybody, ever...
She showed her thick rumbling flesh off to it's fullest degree,
disclosing pounds and inches of hot, dark ladymuscle, bared and
veined and throbbing, in skimpy fishnet tops and micro-
miniskirts.  She'd flex and pump and dare a daunted world to look
away.  
And if they did, who cared?
It was their loss...
Supersized, sculpted muscle and heaving double-d-cup breasts
ruled the day.  One day, many women would sport this luscious
look, and life would be paradise for guys like me!

She came around behind me now, bending her statuesque figure low,
and whispered...
"I like that in a man.  Smallness.  As long as he's not small all
over", she sighed, breathlessly, seductively...  
Standing over me, letting me lean back against her solid bulk,
she placed two hands on my shoulders, overwhelming them; and she
scratched them lightly with her blood-red talons.  I closed my
eyes and enjoyed the rush of pleasure her touch bestowed upon me. 
I could smell that erotic, exotic musky scent she alone had...
I turned to her. 
"Gosh, Sally", I said, turning my head and looking into those
killer blues smiling down upon me. "I thought you only liked guys
that were, you know..." I shrugged, embarrassed to acknowledge my
shortcomings.
"Big? Like me?", she asked, bluntly. Now she was the one who
shrugged, drawing mountainous shoulders high for just a second,
before letting them drop in a thick glorious fall that made her
big swelling mountains of breast jiggle just a bit, and stretch
the suffering thin cloth.  I know it wasn't nice, but I half-
wished it would split open, and the glorious big breasts would
come spilling out into my face.

She kissed my shoulder, paralyzing me with delight.
"Big's okay", she said, standing behind me and reaching over to
run her hands down my chest, kneading the none-too-firm flesh.
"But not always. Sometimes a great big hunk of ladymuscle like me
needs a sweet little guy to take under my big thick she-guns",
she sighed girlishly as she nodded to her arms; she made the
muscles throb and twitch on command as they reached down across
my chest.  My hands went to them and ran up and down the sinewy
limbs as though to make sure they didn't get away. I could smell
her perfume.  It made me want to sign over my soul for her
amusement.

"I want to hold a little sweetheart of a guy in my big, she-gun
arms; somebody I tower over and can dominate and give a good hard
spankin' to--when he needs it", she added.
"And take care of," she said, hinting a sweet promise in my ear. 
"Who wants to be taken care of, JT", she added, kissing the top
of my head.  
"Somebody cute and small who'll do everything I want, and make me
smile.  Somebody who can adore me for the hot, big 'n busty gal I
am.  And who knows? If he's good, and obeys the every little whim
and wish of the big lady bodybuilder, like spotting me when I
train, and bathing me when I'm sweaty, and tailoring all my
little outfits so they show more of my musclebod; well, who
knows? I could be happy.  
`Couldn't you be happy, JT?", she asked, spinning me around and
pulling me to my feet easily and quickly as a rag-doll.
She reached down and undid the velvet short-shorts and pulled
them over her hips; she slid them down her thickly muscled legs. 
Always faithful and eager to serve my big hot bosslady, I quickly
crouched at her feet and pulled the black garments over the high-
heeled shoes, my eyes locking momentarily on her big, perfect
calves.  She rolled her stocking down oaken thighs, and I wrapped
them up carefully.
She had small ankles, like a ballerina's...
Ursula stood towering over me in her muscle-bound glory, the tank
top's end hovering on her hips, loose only at her wasp-waist
nearly as small as mine...  
The silken heaven that was her vagina was covered by tiny pink
satin panties.  It was inches from my face as I knelt and looked
up to her; I could detect a faint far-away scent of ladymusk. Was
she as excited as I was? 
"Something interest you down there, JT?"
I looked down at the dark, beautiful thighs of steel.  I reached
out and placed a worshipful hand on the thick quadriceps.  It was
hard and smooth and I kissed it, unashamed to show my devotion
and my desire.  Her calves were oversize diamonds of glorious
ladymuscle, hard to the touch.
Hands pulled me up and I stood against her, bare flesh against
her rock-hard voluptuousness. My hands reached to her shoulders,
running them along her upper chest that lay bared by the deep
scoop of the skimpy top. 
"Oh, Sally", I said, nearly choked with happiness and lust.  She
pulled me up to her, and I had to stand on tiptoe to meet her
mouth as it, finally, came down hard and longingly upon mine, her
painted lips parting as they did, opening her mouth in hot and
frank intent.
Our tongues met in brief battle, rubbing hard and wet and
fervently.  But Ursula, ever dominant, took control of the kiss
as easily as she had taken control of my dreams.  For a love-
drunken second, I wasn't sure who I was kissing; Ursula or the
remote and cool-edged Raye-Anne Hallison.  I heard her bracelets
jingle on her wrist as she pulled me ever closer to her; my hands
went to her thick wide upper back, and slid hungrily under the
large armholes of her thin tank top.  We leaned against the desk,
and I hoped desperately that she would push me down upon it, pull
off our clothes quickly, and take me, as I so wished she had
yesterday.  I tried to lean back over the top, but Ursula's hot
mighty bulk was more than strong enough to resist; she had other
plans.  My erection was eagerly seeking something to rub against,
as though possessed of a will of it's own.  I began rubbing and
humping her steel thigh, leaking small wet ejaculations, verbal
and physical...
Quickly, her hands cupped my bottom, and she lifted me off my
feet as easily as she would a child; I locked my legs around the
small of her back as though I was climbing a tree.  Never once
during this Amazonian feat did our kiss break; nor did I want it
to.  Cries of delight stifled in my mouth, occupied as it was by
Ursula's prodding tongue; and they escaped only as muffled
breaths of pleasure from deep within my chest. I felt small and
protected in her powerful arms, weak and desiring only her touch;
to know her dark lush secrets as her muscular body would bury me
in her bed...
I felt the tree-trunk thickness of her powerful arms in my hands;
astonishing muscle at work beneath the skin...
She held me there for some time, effortlessly handling my
bodyweight as my mouth yielded to my Big Bosslady, urging her on,
her tongue like a whip I responded to hotly; my grasp upon her
large body tightening as I issued a small cry of bliss from the
sweet scouring of her tongue.
Somehow, sometime, during that kiss she had carried me over to
her chair, and sat down; I was blissfully unaware of moving at
all, as my eyes closed tight, fervent hands explored her back. I
cupped the prominent shoulder blades, feeling their hardness; I
stared at them every day, and now I had them in my hands so long
denied...
I felt orgasm nearing, from the sheer excitement of this rough
treatment at her hands...
Finally, when I thought she might be slacking in her intensity,
as though she had re-thought this at-long-last-pass at her
assistant, the kisses coming shorter now, the breaks for air
longer, I took a chance. I did not want this to stop; I wanted
her to tear the tiny swimsuit from my body and make me hers;
conquering me, claiming me as hers; right here, where I had spent
so many hours silently worshipping my exotic giantess whose
muscle and breast heaved and hushed all my thoughts.
"Please, Sally, take me, please, make me yours..." I begged,
before burying my face in her neck, to taste soft skin and silken
hair.
"Please fuck me, Sally", I urged her, choking, kissing her
steeply carved trapezius with an open trembling mouth.

She kissed my forehead.  
"I think you better get back to your desk, JT, before your boss
does something she'll be sorry for."
I looked up to her.  Her face had become oddly impassive...
"I won't be sorry", I encouraged her, my hand only now going to a
full breast that strained the cloth of her top.  The nipple was
thick and erect and poked prominently through the cloth; her
areolae were plainly visible--she was braless, and it tickled my
palm.  I leered at her with half-lidded eyes, my thin chest
heaving dreamily.
No dice.  Ursula gently took the hand away from her bosom.
"I know, JT, but if I take you now, you won't have anything left
for Raye-Anne....", she offered.
"When can we?", I asked her like a child denied it's playground
visit.
She looked at me with large eyes that were full of sadness rather
than lust.
"Soon, my little secretary, soon...", she said, patting my arm.
"Promise?", I pouted, as I ran a hand along the hulking bicep.
"Yes, I promise. Now don't bother me, JT, or I'll get that big
leather belt and tan your little backside right over me knee",
she said in mock-threatening tones amidst a tired smile and
flexing muscle.
I would have been happy to accept that punishment and half-
thought of trotting over and fetching the belt and dropping my
drawers for her. I would lay across her lap and accept my
strapping if only to have more time with her...
But she had already turned away, as though in pain...

I obeyed her order and got up. The close contact of our flesh had
lubricated our thighs with a thin veneer of perspiration; and I
stumbled just a bit as I stood; Ursula's thick solid arms caught
me.  Our eyes met again; they stayed locked onto one another even
as I turned to walk out of the room; and unfastened only when my
distracted vision caused me to walk right into the inner office
door as it sat ajar...
The moment lightened, and Ursula broke out into a motherly
chuckle as she sat at her desk.   
I dressed with trembling hands in my office.  Presently, through
the open door, I saw her rise, and march in her panties,
stockings over her broad shoulder, to the ladies' room off her
office. The door slammed hard, almost in anger.
I took care of last-second business in the office, arranging
everything just so; Ursula liked it that way.  But my mind was
lost in a fog of females; they made my brain swim until I shook
off the little pool of dirty daydreams...
Ursula had finally come round!
Forget flashing female ladycops who were married anyway; forget
even Raye-Raye, who had reduced me to a shivering, jelly-kneed
poolside sex slave with little more than a quick flex and a snap
of her fingers; forget them all... 
I had Ursula. 
My mind ran to a future that revolved around her in every waking
instant.  I could still work for her, couldn't I? Wouldn't it be
a money-saver if we got married? Of course, I'd get rid of my
place. I could live with her. I had only seen the inside of her
bedroom once, when we stopped off for just a moment to pick up a
piece of mis-delivered mail; she laid her huge musclebod down
every night upon a queen-size waterbed covered in black satin.
When she had gone into the kitchen, hadn't I thrown myself down
upon it and enjoyed the sway of the waves as they gurgled beneath
the sheets? I smelled Ursula's deeply erotic earthy scent on the
bedspread, and imagined...
And ejaculated, too, I reminded myself.  Right in my shorts.

As I was leaving the office on still-shaky knees, she called out
to me, and came to the doorway that separated our offices; god,
she was magnificent...
She had put her shorts and stockings back on; I wished she had
let me do that for her...
"Oh, listen JT...", she said, extending a twenty dollar bill in
her hand.  I asked her what it was for.
"Condoms, kiddo.  Weren't you paying attention? You might need
them tonight. And pick up a number three platter for me at the
health food store.  Tell them to deliver it.  I'm starved..Oh,
and for chrissakes, JT," she said pretending to be annoyed and
pointing her chin at my nether regions, "will you please put some
pants on?"  
I realized I was still in the swimsuit; I was so distracted I had
forgotten to put on my slacks! I stood there in shirt, tie, and
briefs...
I stumbled and mumbled an apology---I had almost gotten used to
walking around in the tiny green trunks! I complied.
Ursula watched my pull my slacks up my trim legs, and when I was
done she stepped over to me, across her threshold.  She leaned
against me once again, her tumbling breasts resting on my
shoulders.  A talon scraped lightly across my testicles through
the cloth.  Before my hands could go to her arms like flies to
sugar, she grabbed my elbows, cupping them in either hand.  
I found myself lifted high off my feet, over her head.  My feet
dangled...
"Hey, careful there, JT", she cautioned me, ducking an
inadvertent kick.  "You put any bruises on my bod and I'm gonna
make you kiss it til it gets better...How 'bout that?"
I smiled, looking down at her for once, rather than craning my
neck upwards.  I was held aloft by Sally Parkheart as easily as
she would hoist a baby...
The office looked different from so high up.  But now, didn't
everything?
On the way down, she held me just long enough to insert her
tongue in my mouth and quell the battle my own tongue would make
with hers; and I acquiesced as she licked the back of my
throat...
Finally, she lowered me, and I felt the reassurance of the
hardwood floor beneath my feet.  I would rather be aloft in her
arms...

I took the twenty and left, full of her lipstick.  At least she
was interested in eating right; it was her first interest in
health food in two weeks.  Those red-brown areolae, nipples hard
and erect and jutting, so visible through sheer cloth, haunted my
thoughts.  I saw them every time I closed my eyes.
I wished, as I bought the sheer rubbers in the drugstore, that I
was buying them to use with my bosslady, to wrap quietly and
quickly around my penis as I stood at her bedside, where, on
silken black sheets below, she lay naked, big breasts beckoning;
a hard, hot woman, waiting...

But hey, I thought, wickedly--if I got to use them with Raye-
Raye, well, I could settle for that, too! I nodded and smiled to
myself, forgetting my quiet declaration of love for Sally back at
the office, and my daydreams of marital bliss as I had filed away
folders with hands trembling with desire.  I remembered how great
Raye-Raye had looked on that chaise lounge, too.  I could call
her that, couldn't I?
I looked up and saw the bald, elderly pharmacist looking at me
quizzically. He must have seen my slight and strange smile as I
took my change...

I caught a catnap back at my apartment, and showered.  As I
stepped out onto the bathmat I got a glimpse of my body in the
full-length mirror.  The hairlessness was strange; and it seemed
as though the body belonged to someone else; in much the same way
as shaving a mustache can make a face seem strange for a day or
two, until you get used to it.
I had an hour to kill; after applying an icepack to me red rear,
I read this month's "Women's Physique World" and learned
everything I could ever want to know about a gorgeous hunk of a
woman named Diana Dennis.  And then some.  
But what the heck--as they say about some other magazines--I only
buy it for the articles...
The biggest woman in the slick periodical didn't come close to
the two slabs of female I was head over heels for.
I smiled a wicked little grin again. Yeah, they were both worth a
tumble, weren't they?  Why should I have to depend on Ursula's
decisions?  I could have my cake and eat it too.
...And why not? I had reason to be optimistic, I thought,
conjuring naughty possibilities in my mind as I envisioned myself
running hungrily and happily cross-town from one lushly-built and
well-muscled lady's bed to the other...
A guy should have all his bases covered, after all...
I wondered what the gorgeous Raye-Anne Hallison did to get ready
for a date.  Would she greet me in that killer bikini?  Or
dressed for domination, in spike-heeled boots?
Or maybe, I hoped, in nothing at all?

I drifted off into another catnap, where I met my Musclebosslady
again.  And someone else, too...

She was naked, huge, brown, carved...Her nipples were erect on
the big bare breasts.  Her hair was piled high on her head, and
she stood perched on her ever-present spiked heels.
She was standing next to the most inviting-looking brass bed I
had ever seen, pillows piled high.  And she was beckoning me from
across the room with one finger, the sharp nail painted white.
I ran to her, but got only a few feet when I found myself jerked
off my feet; Raye-Anne Hallison had other ideas.  She, too, was
naked, and huge and brown and...
And there was gonna be a fight.
I had landed at Raye-Anne's feet, where a high-heel came down on
my bare buttock...
"Stay right there, little man", came her smooth and cool Country
Girl voice as she stood above me, flexing; meeting Ursula pound-
for-pound.
"Your boss and I have a few things to discuss..."
And she charged at Ursula; the two giant and naked female
bodybuilders collided, the air rushing out of both their bodies
with an unlady-like `ugh' as they wrapped their arms around each
other, naked muscle against naked muscle, like two giant pythons
encircling a foe and trying to squeeze it's rebellion still...
The she-hulks crashed down on the bed, naked and angry, their two
pairs of huge breasts crushed one against the other in a slow
dance of violence.  Big nipples stabbed softly...
Ursula's hair came loose and fell wildly across her face; she
swung at Raye-Anne and connected.  The big blonde fell across the
mattress but eluded Sally's pounce at her with the speed of a
mongoose...
Now Raye-Raye took command, leaping all her considerable
bodyweight onto Sally's back before she could move; and she
locked an iron forearm around her neck.
My bosslady's face grew red, choking; but found the strength to
rally, calling on long years of pushing metal to shove the
younger and somewhat larger blonde's muscle-packed thick body
off-balance just for a second; Raye-Anne tried to find her
balance as she kneeled on the bed, but could not center herself
on the soft mattress; and Sally used that brief moment to good
advantage.
She turned and met Raye-Anne's face with her fist again.  The big
blonde caught her forearm, though, and chuckled through clenched
teeth as she pulled my Lady Heartthrob head-first off the far
side of the bed.
Her perfect rear end plummeted to the floor, legs opened and
splayed; my breath caught as I saw her perfectly trimmed vaginal
bush part, revealing her pink pussylips for just a moment before
they, too, fell from view behind the bed, headed to the hardwood
below.
Where Raye-Anne pounced like a wildcat...
The two bare-assed muscleladies were out of sight for just a
moment.  But in that moment I heard struggling, and cursing, and
fist meeting flesh, heads banging onto the hard floor.  The lamp
teetered on a nearby nighttable, and fell out of view, where it
crashed.  The lights went out.
There was a loud scream of pain.  Somebody was hurt badly.
Somebody had lost...

And my alarm went off.
I cursed my luck even before I opened my eyes...

I drove back to the office an hour or so later, as per our
arrangements.  The dream haunted my thoughts.  Was it the pre-
cursor of things to come?
Still, I had a job to do, and Ursula was depending on me, so I
decided to focus on the here and now.
Ursula seemed to realize a good thing, I said, nodding to myself
in the rear-view mirror of my battered old bug as I chugged and
crawled through early-evening traffic.  I couldn't expect her to
melt overnight, could I?  And we were on a case; a bad time to be
in love, as the song went.  But where Ursula was concerned, the
question for me was academic.  As soon as this was over, I would
make my stand; what did I have to lose?  She was available at
last, and so I didn't have to worry about some equally
musclebound boyfriend of hers, catching me and pounding me to
pulp...
But what about Raye-Anne? Wasn't I going to play one against the
other and see who wanted me the most?
I was divided, confused and torn; lost in a maze of battling
ladymuscle.

Snip!
When I got to the office I found Ursula sitting at her desk.  She
was wearing a black sleeveless bodysuit that hugged her body-so-
muscular like a second skin; and she was giving herself a rather
abrupt manicure.  The red nails were laying in a small strange
pile of dead shards on her desk; the last nail went now, flying
up for just a moment before landing with the others, guillotined
to it's death on the green felt.
"Hiya, JT", she said, looking up for just a second...
"Just taking care of the last-minute details.  Can't open a safe
with those claws, could I?", she asked rhetorically, pointing at
the glassy red clippings before her.  She had a flush of
enthusiasm on her face; I was glad.
I was also very nervous.
Ursula happily went about smoothing the short stubby fingernails
now, filing them expertly with an emery board. She held them out
in front of her, happy with the results.
"I never liked those cat-claws anyway", she said at last, getting
up and sweeping the little red vanities into the waste-basket she
had brought up to the edge.  
"Good riddance...", she called down to them as she adjusted the
thin straps of her outfit as they tried to decorate her killer
shoulders.
I was sorry to see the sexy cat-claws go. I liked the sharp
feline daggers that grew on her fingers. 
Especially when she used them on me, as she had just that
afternoon.
I stepped into the bathroom to change back into the beachboy
outfit...

"OK, JT, time to make some money", Ursula said as she appraised
my body yet again. I felt acutely insecure as she looked me up
and down from her chair; I knew that her former lovers were all
twice my size, and I knew I was disappointing...
But she said nothing.
She pulled the straps off her shoulders, and they hung limp
across her arms; the outfit was held on her torso by her own
large-breasted, wide-bodied bigness.  She began curling a large
and heavy black dumbbell as big as my Volkswagen as she sat at
her desk; the skin of her arm was stretched tight and looked as
though it would crack and split over the glowering hunk of
rapidly-expanding muscle beneath it.  She looked down again, so
as to finish the last few reps now...
"How's this, JT?", she asked.  She nodded down to the arm that
responded to the iron challenge by growing and throbbing at about
twice it's usual size.  I could have sworn it pulsed with her
heartbeat, as though it was beating away not in the center of her
chest, but under all the deep harsh layers of muscle on her arm.
"Looks pretty hot, huh?", she asked, knowing my answer, reading
it with her eyes.
I nodded and watched her switch to the other arm.  The bicep
answered the wake-up call by sprouting and straining and turning
to a big fist of muscle, a luscious lump of thick ladypower;
veins almost audibly crackling throughout...
My eyes rode the ski-slopes of her muscular arms, the terrain
full of deep lows and high-sculpted peaks; and I was taking the
ski-lift to heaven...
I didn't respond to her call to arms, as it were, until she was
finished.  When I made like Susan Sarandon again, my towering
Amazon Bosslady laugh in delight...
She had a sweet laugh, high and gentle, like a nun's....
"Love that li'l swimsuit", she said, wiping sweat from arms, huge
and thick and carved; she patted them daintily with a kleenex as
though they were delicate bone china rather than slabs of female
muscle grown to unheard-of size.  They were so big they were
almost obscene; larger than my thighs and demanding attention
from her assistant.
"Hope our little session over my knee hasn't bruised your cute
butt too much, has it?", she asked, motioning for me to turn
around and show her.  I did, leaning over her desk.

"Oh, that's nothing", she assured me, as she patted the round
fleshy globes. "Just a tiny little bruise.  Raye-Anne won't be
too disappointed.  Besides, JT, I had to show you who's boss
around this place, didn't I?", she asked, showing me the latest
muscular developments with a quick and casual flex.
I nodded and smiled and looked away.  I didn't tell her that I
had soaked my sore behind with ice to remove the redness that had
come with her punishment.
"Ready to go to work?", Ursula asked with a nod at my bare flesh.
She tossed the damp kleenex at me, and I would be sure to slip it
into my desk drawer on the way out; it was a souvenir of sweat
from the woman I loved...
I was starting to feel like a beauty pageant contestant, made to
walk around in skimpy attire to please prying eyes.  
"Right, bosslady," I said, finally responding to her question and
trying to sound brave, hungering for the swollen slabs of female;
but in fact I was full of mixed and contradictory feelings;
suddenly I felt guilty about my attraction for Raye-Anne; but the
die was cast.  I had committed myself to this job, and I couldn't
let Sally down, could I?  So I decided to play both ends against
the middle; I'd make it clear to her that I was doing all this
for her; and if I had a good time, well, that could be my little
secret, couldn't it?
She handed me the box of condoms from her desk.  I opened it and
tore off several of them from the pack, tucking them into my
swimsuit.  I had the foresight to bring a long coat with me; no
stares were needed in the lobby!
Ursula seemed to flex, huge and determined, as though on reflex;
to prepare for the night's work.  I sighed again...
As we walked out I put the box of condoms into the top drawer of
my desk along with the tissue.

Ursula silently drove me over to the development; I rode beside
her, admiring the view of her magnificent body.  Her large
breasts would bounce as we hit a pothole, and held my eyes in a
near-hypnotic spell.  Her hair was pinned up, off her shoulders. 
The way she might look early in the morning, coming down to
breakfast after a long night of love-making...
She was going to let me off right in front of the place so as to
spare me the indignity of a long walk in the small briefs.
She ran down the details again to me, just before I left...
"Now make sure she's out of the way when you let me in, JT. 
Angela says the bedroom is on the third floor.  Think you can get
her to seduce you?", she asked, smiling evilly and patting my
face.
"Once you're in bed with her, invent a reason for going
downstairs.  Tell her you left something down there..."
"But Sally,", I protested mildly, "I'm going in there almost
naked.  What is there to leave?"
She laughed. "You'll think of something, I'm sure...", she
answered, shrugging giant shoulders, damned delicious delts
dancing and heaving.
She pulled me to her easily; and her tongue slid into my mouth as
our lips pressed hard and hungry and wet.
"When you get your little buns back to my office, I can show you
alot more of this body, JT.  Remember that..."
"I will, Sally.  I promise."

"Careful, angel", she said, handing me the flowers and champagne
she had purchased for me to give my mean-tempered amazon.
I got out of the car nervously; I looked at Ursula, suddenly
colliding with the reality of the situation; the danger.
What if Raye-Anne Hallison figured out what I'm trying to do?
"I'll be waiting for your signal; after I get the papers, Maria
is gonna stay behind and wait for you. I hope your big blonde
musclegirlfriend in there doesn't steal you away from me..."
She kissed my cheek, tenderly.
"Make me proud, JT", she said, flexing and throbbing her huge
right arm for me.  The huge muscle was a sweet reminder of what
would be coming.  It throbbed and danced and pulsed and promised
hard-edged delight in the coming days...
She blew me a kiss, and I gulped hard with delight and fear as I
slipped off my coat, my eyes devouring her enormous bicep as it
continued to dance a dirty little dance just for me.
"Yes, ma'am", was all I could say, before closing the car door
and turning, all but naked and ready to offer myself as bait for
a woman even bigger than Ursula!
She watched me as I walked apprehensively up to the forbidding
front door of a giant mean-tempered blonde Amazon.
I heard the car pull away as I prepared to ring the bell.





               (c) WIG, LTD 1993  All rights reserved



                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.:
                      The Flexing Detective
                               in

               The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon
                               by
                         Forrest Curran

                     Chapter Five: (Cont.'d)


     She told me to clean up the table, and gave me permission to
scrounge a snack from the refrigerator while she went upstairs. 
     I was to join her there in ten minutes.
     But I was too hungry to eat; hungry for a paradise long-
withheld from my life.  There she was; ascending the stairs,
knowing what she had, and how desperate I was to know her touch.
     She was getting ready for me...

     And I was upstairs in five.

     "In Here," the handwritten sign had said on the first door
at the top of the darkened stairs.  I opened it slowly, listening
to the hinges creak like an old man's bones before I tentatively
leaned into a windowless room.  
     There were a couple of chairs lined side by side in the
center. In front of them, stationed in front of what looked to be
a closet door, was a small curtained platform. Track lighting
beamed down onto the stage, highlighting it. I sat down in the
shadows and coughed nervously.  
     Then I heard music begin to play.
     The overhead glow faded, leaving just one arc of reddish-
hued color on the small stage.  I heard the door open behind the
curtain.
     There was a rustling; the music swelled, a prelude to a song
I could not recognize just yet, but as it got closer to the
melody, I thought...
     
     Raye-Anne Hallison appeared, stepping out from behind the
curtain.  Her hair was done in a pony-tail.  At first, I thought
she had removed her make-up.  But then I realized she hadn't...
     She had made herself down, somehow; given the illusion,
through Max Factor skillfully applied, of being even younger than
the twenty-something woman she was.  But the effect was shattered
once your eyes ventured below her face...
     She was wearing a tiny, little-girl's pink party dress.  It
had short puffed sleeves that made no attempt to cover her giant
arms; indeed, the effect of the dainty sleeves was to accentuate
the thick slabs of muscle that resided there.  It hugged tightly
on her hourglass figure, and was deeply cinched on the tiny
waist.  There was a high neck, and an even higher hemline---a
mockery of a skirt under the daintiest petticoats I had ever
seen.  Miles of powerful predatory thigh were bared; so much so
that the slightest change in her posture revealed the white panty
encasing her loins.
     She was wearing the high white heels in which she had
greeted me, but had added laced white-and-pink anklesocks and
matching gloves.
     And she had a lollipop in her mouth.
     She curtsied low, holding the hem of the pleated skirt out
in the old-world and out-of-date fashion seen in black-and-white
movies on the late show.
     And as though this tableau was not bizarre enough, she now
began to sing in a thin but reasonably capable voice along with
the music, whose ancient nineteen-twenties melody now came
around:

     "...I want to be loved by you..."

     So odd was the sight that it took me several moments to
realize that she had changed the words, perverted them
delightfully as this musclegirl went through the tune...
     She sang of blowjobs and fucking, flexing and licking,
stripping and strapping and shyly submitting; after all, she was
naughty, wasn't she?, she asked, her girlish microskirt
fluttering as she waved the lollipop about.
     She did not call attention to the arms made strong and
oaken; she had taken on this kewpie-doll demeanor, cute and frail
despite the fact that her bare legs looked strong enough to kick
a hole in a granite wall.  I leaned in my seat; I was just a
couple of feet from her, my eyes level with her knees.  There
were worse sights; I had a clear view of her almost-bare behind
whenever she turned around and displayed the lacy nothings of her
underthings.
     So she really was a softy underneath all her sturm un
drang...!

     That was great; I'd get to call the shots with this tough
babe after all.  This was gonna be easy.  And fun, I nodded,
looking at the big bare thighs and arms uncovered by this little-
girl costume.
     The song was over; I had missed the last lyrics--something
about what she wanted me to do with her in a warm jacuzzi...

     She curtsied again, as dainty as a well-mannered schoolgirl. 
The skirt flounced around her as she did a little skip-hop of
celebration.
     "Wanna take care of me, my great big man?," she lilted in a
little-girl voice as she replaced the lollipop in her delicate
mouth and batted her eyelids, swiveling her hips from side to
side. 
     I nodded.

     "Is that so"?, she inquired, her voice dropping an octave to
her normal speaking voice.  "You think you're man enough?"
     Oh-oh.  The show was over. She threw the candy away now, and
with it, any trace of sweetness...
     She pushed the tiny, puffy little sleeves up her arms; the
elastic was not made to fit around the delts of so huge a female,
and they snapped in little rubbery spasms...
     "You think that a skinny runt like you is gonna make me jump
through a hoop and get all flustered when you get undressed? Get
real...," she sneered, all girlishness gone despite the little
outfit.  She was like some strange and other-worldly creature--in
the dainty little dress she looked like a teenybopper pre-teen on
some bizarre super-steroid...
     But she wasn't.  She was all woman...

     The music changed---in more ways than one.
     I don't know much about heavy metal music.  But as the
music, loud and crashing, roared over the ceiling-mounted
speakers, I saw Raye-Anne's hands go to the tiny little
partydress.  The thin cloth gave way easily; and a large tear had
begun down it's front as the lights went out.
     This huge lady had a penchant for tearing things, I noted.
     When light returned, three seconds later, she was naked
again.
     The dress lay in pathetic tatters at her feet, and she
kicked them off the stage, the dainty sheer cloth landing in my
lap. She was dressed only in the high heels, anklesocks and
gloves. And the mighty Amazon looked ready to eat me for dessert.
     She struck a double biceps pose; quicksilver muscle answered
the call and throbbed to life under her flesh.  The lights began
shifting and changing; red and yellow and orange, flashing like
the tawdry neon in a topless nightclub. 
     She could really pose; muscle floated and rippled and
thundered under her skin, seeming to crawl up one limb and down
the other as she flexed the angry, monumental ladyflesh.  She
locked her hands behind her head and froze chiseled abs in place,
like a ladder that ran from breast to pube; a ladder whose rungs
I wanted to descend.
     She turned and spread her legs wide, bending low and showing
her neatly-lipped vagina with the pride of a stripper.  She
grabbed a chunk of buttock in each of her hands and spread them. 
     There were no mysteries withheld from me now...
     Judging from the engorged appearance of her pink-red vagina,
she looked every bit as excited as me...
     The puckered, plumped lips vanished from sight as she
squeezed her gluteals together, the curtain going down on the X-
Rated GirlMuscle Show...

     But I knew one thing...

     She wanted to go to bed---and be appeased by her lucky
partner for the night.
     Me!

     The music faded, and the pony-tailed blonde mountain of a
woman stood, her hands on her hips, accentuating that thick
marvelous body.
     "Isn't this just the way it always is?," she asked,
derisively. "One day they're so little and cute and innocent, but
the next...," she shook her head, a world-weary little gesture.
     "The next," she continued, flexing those bowling balls she
called biceps, "the next, they're all woman--big tits and hot ass
and hungry pussy, and---if they're real good girls and hit the
iron like Raye-Raye---big fuckin' muscles all over their frames!"
     She showed me just what she meant, and displayed her body in
an X-rated physique show that was one part Vanessa Del Rio and
another part Cory Everson. 
     The difference was, of course, that Raye-Anne weighed
approximately twice what either woman weighted.
     And that hungry weight was about to be turned on me.
     She bent low, shook her ass, flexed the gluteals, made 'em
shake; she froze her breasts on her chest; vibrated the vast,
chilling muscularity and made it blur in front of my eyes.  Her
abs seemed to have come alive, as though an electric current had
been run through them and brought them to life before my eyes. 
Her musclebod beckoned, and I followed, on an instinct more
primitive and feverish than any I had ever known...
     She advanced to the edge of the stage.
     There was a hard look on that farmer's-daughter face.  She
looked almost as though she was bored by this procedure, or that
I was not providing the excitement she craved, and her expression
showed it.  Naked, huge, and very much in control; it somehow was
not enough for her...

     I had the feeling, very suddenly, that she had done all of
this before...
     She kicked her discarded white panties off the stage.
     They landed on my face, and my hands felt the heat of her
body still on the cloth as I pulled it off.  I whiffed the
powerful aphrodisiac of her juices, and felt a shock of electric
desire shoot up my spine.
     "Stand up, small fry..."
     I already was standing; she towered over me, and she looked
down at my feet as though to make sure they were on the floor.
     She bent down for me, and a powerful arm grabbed one of my
own.  And I rode the Raye-Raye Elevator, upwards, upwards...

     I found myself hoisted into the air, thrown over her
shoulders.
     And, now, carried away by a woman whose arms were as thick
as my thighs.  I couldn't wait to get to her bed, one way or the
other...
     But she had another destination in mind first.

     She was naked except for the high heels and their frilly
socks.  As she stood over the barbell she had thrown me the
delicate lace gloves to hold.  I caught them, as she went about
adding several plates to the heavy weight. 
     "...Just want you to know what you're gettin' into, like I
said, baby," Raye-Anne declared as she proceeded to knock out
countless reps with a shining silver barbell, her big bulging
arms swelling to the challenge...
     Hard rock was blaring again, from still another set of
speakers, highlighting her actions as though it were a musical
score designed just for this moment, when she stood pumping
shining iron. 
     The cold metal she was curling so easily matched my
bodyweight now; perhaps she knew it, too, and was making a point
even as she treated my eyes to this musclegirl feast.
I watched a muscle pump larger and larger, angrier with each rep
it's muscular mistress forced it to pound out; angry veins
swelled in response as they rushed hot blood to the straining
tissue. 
     But through it all, Raye-Anne Hallison exhibited no strain
on her pretty face.
     Her cheeks were full of theatrical rouge, applied to give
her the appearance of a young teenybopper's shy blush; it added a
surrealistic flavor to the moment.  But there was nothing shy
about Raye-Anne Hallison.
     Nothing...

     Hard abdominal ridges stood out prominently on her stomach,
stone-edged with effort as the reps accumulated. I couldn't help
but to approach, to enjoy the naked girl-woman twice my size as
she kept growing, and growing...
     I knew it was impossible, but she almost seemed to be
growing in height as well...
     "Look good to you, Bikini-Boy?," she invited, her voice
tight with effort; her face only now showing tension as she shook
the pony-tail back sharply...
The reps continued to grow, as though her mighty oaken arms were
obeying a command even she could not disobey; as though they were
under orders from some unseen authority to continue; grunts began
to emanate from her; her face contorted now.  
     But it did not match the contortion of her body; my god, she
was gigantic now, in full, ultra-sized pump...

     There are those who would call it gross; the way the thick
deltoids had kept growing and expanding as though they were a
pair of twin dirigibles inflated by a strange goddess who wished
only for this woman to grow bigger and bigger, harder and harder. 

     So, too, would the appearance of her prominent vascularity,
raging on her soft brown skin, make some people--who did not
comprehend the primal beauty of it all--turn away.  
     Some might not understand how perfect she looked to me at
that moment, a woman in her power, in her youth; who had mastered
her world. 
     And me.

     Finally now, she hurled the metal onto a padded floor.  
I felt every bit the subservient fan, overwhelmed by this crush
but spurred on by passion, and a dream to be with her...
I felt as though she would bury me in an avalanche of her thick,
pumped-up muscle, suffocate me with rumbling breasts, and drown
me with her hot moist mouth as I stood there, in nothing more
than the trim briefs she had ordered me to sport for her
amusement.
     She shook her head at my lip-trembling, awed demeanor.
     She motioned for her gloves; I returned them to her and she
put them on with two quick pulls.  She stood before me, too
perfect, too big, for me to describe now. Instead, I simply
obeyed a stern order that came with heavy, heaving breath from
the biggest woman I had ever seen in my life...
     "Get on your knees, wimp. Worship Raye-Raye like a
slave...!"
     And I did.
     I kissed her high-heeled feet as she spoke, tasting leather
and listening for orders; all the while dreaming breathlessly of
what was to come.

     "Very good. Big Raye-Raye's gonna take you to bed with her,
skinny boy. She's gonna make you tell her all your dark and dirty
little dreams while she puts you in your place in her bed..."
     I nearly orgasmed right there, as I kissed the huge ten-
carat-diamonds that were her calves; tasting the unforgiving
stones of intolerance.  

     By the time we were in the surprisingly girlish bedroom of
this gigantic woman, my trunks had been removed; she had yanked
them off me as she carried me, and had let them fall behind us in
the narrow hallway. I saw them laying marooned and forgotten in
our wake. The tiny trunks had been my ticket in the door in the
first place, and had caught the eye of this hot passionate she-
hunk, but were now to be excluded from the proceedings.  
     I hadn't expected a pink bedroom so full of lace frills;
curtains and bedspread were both that softly feminine color, and
the canopied bed was full of floating white lace overhead.  I saw
several stuffed animals on the bureau by the far wall; I wondered
how many encounters they had witnessed just like this one...
     She threw me onto the bed, and I bounced on the soft
mattress.  
     My bosslady, Ursula, had told me how she herself had always
insisted on a rock-hard mattress; one that could support her back
and let her rest.  Also, I had thought to myself, one that was
strong enough to support the weight of her bawdy lover; the two
of them could probably wreck a softly-sprung mattress in one
lust-soaked weekend...
     But this one was soft and springy...

     I must have catapulted up and down three or four times on
the red silk bedspread, and Raye-Anne flashed that farm-girl
smile of amusement as I bounced; finally coming to rest upon the
bed, ready for her diagnosis, and I hoped, a prescription of
hard-muscled, womanly delights...
     She stepped back a foot or two.  
     She pulled off the lacy gloves again and looked my hairless,
shaven body up and down, damp as it was with her sweat; as though
she were deciding where to start first...
     I was fully erect, and, I hoped, fully up to her powerful
expectations...
     "So what do you think, Small Pale and Skinny?  Think Raye-
Raye's too much hot woman for you?," she asked languorously, as
she locked those killer guns behind her head and made the muscle
overtake her frame, threatening to burst angrily through her skin
any second; swollen, volatile, needing a reverent touch of awed
hands...
     She loosened her blond mane from the pony-tail, and let it
crash on the wide boulders of her shoulders.  
     She was a primal and perfect--a beautiful behemoth of
ladymuscle.
     "Let's get something straight, Hairless," she announced,
looking right at me as she removed the stage-make-up with a quick
swipe of a cloth, "You're here to please me.  You wanted to catch
my eye, and I let you catch it.  Now you're gonna have to dance
to big Raye-Raye's tune, and the music's gonna run you ragged.
It's all-girl, all-muscle music, and you're just gonna be a dick
with flesh and bones attached; I don't want to hear any fucking
wimp complaints from you, get me?," she demanded, with burning
eyes, her hands on her hips in authoratative splendor.
     "No, Raye-Raye, I promise...," I said, trembling as I sat
upon her bed.  I was watching a huge fleshy flex she made as
though to reinforce a point.  Without the artifice of the blush,
her face looked hard and severe despite her country-girl
countenance; cheekbones now slightly-prominent under her skin.
     Remember Ursula, I reminded myself.  I knew she was
outside...
     Raye-Anne Hallison, six foot six inches of wide-bodied,
uncompromising muscularity somehow engineered onto the body of a
Penthouse Pet, came over to the side of her bed and lay beside
me, and joined me in sins that were yet to be; not yet committed,
but rushing to meet our fates like trains steaming through the
night air to arrive at their stations...
     The vast architectural wonder of her hard huge body was now
within my reach; the sharp contours and unforgiving terrain
arresting my eyes...
     My throat was locked, tight and hot with feverish need.  I
thought I could hear the blood rushing through my head in the
form of a dull roar in my ears...
     How I wanted to dive into that lush and thick muscular body,
naked and hard and ready for anything any man might try to offer;
the big breasts were beckoning, nipples erect; I wanted to suckle
them, be overwhelmed by them; by her...
     I wanted to do all this, but something told me to hold off,
to wait for her permission.  She lay on her side, her head
resting in her hand, as though studying me.
     The silk was cool beneath our bodies; but my mind and my
soul were burning...
     
     "You really have a thing for me, don't you, my little man?,"
she asked, defiantly; elementally naked and proud of the effect
her impossibly-big-muscled lady-bod had upon me.
     "Yes, Raye-Raye," I gasped, speaking but not really hearing
myself. "I saw you at the pool and I just had to meet you.  It's
just that you're so...so big and all.  And so beautiful.  I was
so nervous....," I confessed, smiling.
     "Yeah, you were right to be," she stated.  "I'm a helluva
lot of woman for a little guy like you," she confirmed, absently
flexing. "You know, if I'd wanted to, I could've raped the shit
out of you right then and there.  I could have had my fun, and
when I was done making you moan and cum, I could have picked you
up by the balls and thrown you in the pool and walked away, you
know.  I could have...," she pronounced, in a bored voice.
     "Yes, I know...," I offered, rubbing the obscenely huge
bicep.  It was hot with her exertions, and I could feel the pulse
of her heart under my fingers as it raged through the veins that
fed the big girlmuscle.
     "If it would have pleased you, Raye-Raye, you could
have...."
     I had pressed the right button; acquiesced to her
completely, and let her know that she was not just the seducer,
but an unquestioned dominating authority in my eyes.  
     Worship would be coming, she knew...

     She wasn't making a move yet, just stretched out on her
side, big breasts rising and falling with each breath.  She let a
hand reach absently down that chiseled, stone-cold-big body to
her groin, where she scratched her neatly-trimmed pubic patch. I
watched each movement of the fingers as though trying to memorize
them as she manipulated her genitals lightly, spreading her legs
to make access all the easier.
     "So," she asked, "you wanna fuck this great big muscle-girl,
or what...?," she inquire, rubbing the peeking and pink clitoris.
     She responded to my eager nod with an amused smile.
     "Okay, my little lamb.  But we're gonna have to get a few
things straight..."
     "Like what, Raye-Raye?," I asked, feeling overwhelmed in
size by this gorgeous, stacked she-hulk; her beauty and
muscularity flowed like a tidal wave over me, stealing my mind,
my heart, and my loins, drowning me with her hot stacked
architecture. Her mean "take-it-or-leave-it" attitude made me
want her all the more. 
     I snuggled close to the huge, wide-bodied woman.  
     It was academic; anything she wanted...
     "You tell me," she said.  "Tell me how you bad you want
me...," she purred, flexing her molten-muscled arm above her...
     "Very much, Raye-Raye. Very very much," I said, putting a
hand, tentatively, on her midsection. It offered no comfort
beneath; it was hard as stone, and carved as though it had been
set upon by a sculptor. Her eyes matched it as they bore down
upon me.
     "I like a man who knows how to gush a little when his head
gets turned by a hot slab of musclegirl.  How about it?  Wanna
make Raye-Raye happy?  You can talk with your hands, too, if you
want.."
     Lord, she was magnificent.  The combination of her dark tan
and her nordic features gave her a lush, exotic aspect; sort of a
northern version of Ursula.  And just as big. 
     Everywhere.
     My hands went to that body eagerly, almost leaping across
the mattress to her...
     "Oh, Raye-Raye," I began; but it was all I said at first,
busy as my mouth was with tasting those big breasts, licking her
wide lats as she lay back, hands folded behind her head as she
sat back against the headboard and smiling complacently as I
worshipped her.  I could taste salt on my tongue; she hadn't
showered after either of her workouts, but just before them; and
was full of a strangely intoxicating scent that tantalized my
mouth; it was all the dinner this slave-by-choice would get that
night.  I had forgone Raye-Anne's permission to rummage her
fridge, anxious as I had been to get to her; to rummage the body
of this goddess instead.  
     "You're so big, Raye-Raye," I said, as the vast muscularity
of this incredibly-built blonde made me dwindle in comparison,
and I could feel my penis leak a drop of pre-ejaculate even as I
ran my shaking fingers up and down the battle-hard rungs of
abdominal, sculpted and cruel.  
     She smiled at the compliment; a lady bodybuilder's
equivalent to being told she was thin!

     She wriggled her torso, and the hard abdominals shook and
vibrated; running like waves crashing on a beach. 
     I was awash in them, so to speak; I wanted to be overwhelmed
by her.  Every moment of frustration I had known with Ursula
coming back to me now...
     "Take me, Raye-Raye," I thought...

     "Yeah," she oozed, sliding down to lay back, her hands still
folded casually behind her head.  "Raye-Raye knows how big she
is.  But tell her more. Do you want to `make the fuck' with
her?..," she asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.
     "Oh, yes, please, Raye-Raye.  I want to do just what you
say, and be yours," I gushed. "You're so huge," I said, kissing
her granite ball of bicep.  
     "You're so gorgeous," I said, staring lovingly into her eyes
and kissing the other one; sweet unforgiving flesh on my
trembling lips.  
     Her flesh, for all the hard muscle that adorned her
astounding body, was soft and warm and womanly, and made me want
her all the more...
     The head of my penis dragged across her belly, leaving a
drop of my clear wet excitement on the hard brown flesh.
     She pointed at it, a look of vague disgust crossing her
face.  She clasped the back of my neck in her hand and pushed my
mouth down upon it despite the fact that there was a box of
Kleenex on the nightstand.  
     She preferred to make me the janitor of my own sexual
delights...
     "That's better," she said, when she had decided I was done.

     "Oh, Raye-Raye," I breathed, too excited to be ashamed at my
willing captivity, my utter domination at the hands of this
genetic experiment made flesh and flood and breast and muscle;
and I sighed, looking again into those blue-blue eyes; twin
abyss's of languorous deep water. 
     "You can do whatever you want with me. Anything. Just 'cause
you want to; it'll be okay," I offered, before burying my face in
her sex and tasting the musky plump-lipped pussy of this Lady
Hardbody-Heartthrob.
     "Of course it will, you idiot," she said, running her
fingers through my hair as though amused at my subservience. 
"I own you, and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you. Still,
that was just what I wanted to hear, Small Stuff.  Means you
understand the score between us.  But just remember, you said
it..."
     I didn't respond; I was too busy running my tongue on the
firm, pink clitoris, prominently poking out amongst the softness.
But before long I was venturing inside her vagina to lick
whatever sweet slick secretions she offered my willing, waiting
mouth.
     My hands lingered on the powerful thighs as they rested,
spread wide and open and raised off the bed. I sucked at her wet
pussy, whose lips opened fully now, like a flower in bloom,
revealing the sweet buds beneath. 
     And there I would stay until my tongue had gone numb, my
head at her groin, the huge thighs raised and open, the better to
be serviced.  Her vagina was like a small furnace that radiated a
palpable heat.
     I couldn't get enough of her; especially when I had looked
up to see her close her eyes, as she allowed herself to enjoy
what I was offering in near-frantic desire to please Her Most
Muscular Highness.
     And her saliva-slickened pink vagina was now gushing those
sweet secretions that signaled her intent; I lapped them up
eagerly as she emitted them, before they reached the bed beneath
her; my tongue rushing to catch the streams as they dripped down
across the musclegirl's puckered anus and across the spread
buttocks; eager to taste, lick and swallow the unnamed mixture of
sweat, saliva and musken pussyooze of Raye-Anne Hallison.
     Her legs were parted wide, without shame or self-
consciousness; indeed, there was a hint of disdain in the rough
rubbings and mutterings that came from her as she writhed her
powerful hips in my face; as though I was just another in a long
line of servants she had hand-picked to do her bidding; she could
take them or leave them, and I was no different...
     But I was determined to service the hot musky orifice, and
lap the sweet ooze of a muscular goddess, and inhale deeply the
thick sensual musk that spoke of servile sin and sweet dark
urgent need...
     Her hips wriggled; orgasm neared.

     She locked her oak-tree thighs around my head as the climax
built.  For a moment, I thought she would go on squeezing, until
my head burst like a watermelon under the pressure; I felt a
terrific fireworks display shooting skyward behind my eyes; full
of exploding stars and grey fog.  
     I was grateful when she at last relented, and let my brain
de-compress! 
     She issued a loud low moan, and I felt the vibrations of her
climax as though it was an earthquake...
     I leaked more pre-cum, in fervent captivity and fevered
determination to please a force of female nature made flesh and
blood.  
     Hurricane Raye-Raye had swept me into it's swirling winds,
and I was happy to go...


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