.... I hoped that she was a little of both... She was big, alright. Unthinkably big. Preposterously tall. Hopelessly gorgeous. Incredibly stacked. A killer package of muscle, size, and sex. And by the confident, slow and slinky way she walked and moved, she knew what she had. Her shoulders dwarfed those of almost every man on the beach, and no doubt caused quite a bit of inadequacy in some of the men in the crowd. Her arms were as large as the legs of the average woman on the beach, thick limbs wrapped in bicep, tricep, ...... All in all, a woman of imposing physique. Margo was built. And I had to get to her, no matter what. The head was a mane of lustrous blonde hair, loosely worn, it's full body flowing down and down; past the wide shoulders so heavily chiseled with muscle. There was a serene confidence that emanated strongly, an unstated yet apparent power that exhibited itself in the seemingly casual way she shook her head freely, the tresses flying wildly. It seemed to say, for all who were interested, "This is me. It's different. You can't stop looking, can you? Love it or leave it!" Here and there she coolly waved to someone she knew, barely showing recognition on her face behind dark sunglasses as she went, a small nod here, flick of a hand there, as they called out to her. She did not stop walking, or even slow down. She moved with purpose, wherever she was going.... The fact that she was a good head taller than most of the men on the beach , towering at over six foot seven, was enough to stop traffic. For a moment, it seemed, even the bounding surf seemed to pause, as though a natural phenomena had been detected that even made nature pause. |