Oz Beach Boy Ogled By French Cougar

NOTES: All characters in this story are over the age of eighteen. This is a female-of-male body worship story. There is some CFNM, but no male/female sexual activity. Parts of this story actually happened.

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It was a gorgeous, clear-skied, sunny summer's day in Sydney, Australia. Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol was exactly where she wanted to be in such delightfully hot and balmy weather: at the beach gazing at young men in their swimsuits.

At the age of 45, this French-born, Australian-raised divorcee was completely comfortable with the fact that she was a voyeur of the first and most salacious order.

She had married happily in her mid-twenties, and when her once warm but later cold and distant workaholic husband left her for a much younger woman when she was forty-years-old, Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol had roundly embraced her inner pervert.

Her taste had always been for much younger men -- over the age of eighteen, of course -- and once on her own, she let this predilection grow and blossom until it weaved its wicked way through much of her waking (and dreaming) life.

Alone in her stylish apartment with no children, Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol would spend hours on the internet looking at images of beautiful young male specimens in their birthday suits.

She would marvel over their lithe, youthful bodies and sculpted musculature with the eye of a seasoned expert, looking for and critiquing every fine detail.

Their penises, of course, were always of particular interest. Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol was unquestionably a size queen. She loved nothing more than the sight of a long, thick, veiny, circumcised and preferably hairless penis hanging over a big set of testicles and dangling heavily between two muscled thighs.

The French divorcee's Google searches usually consisted of the words "muscular man with large penis." The internet never disappointed, and Jacqueline would often finger herself to roaring, body-shaking orgasms while enjoying the search results. She liked to call it "art dicko" while laughing to herself.

Leaning against a metal railing that separated a paved promenade from the beach proper, Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol looked out across the sand.

Mere metres away, four young men played beach volleyball, and she enjoyed every minute of it. They were Brazilian boys in their early twenties, and all had gloriously bare torsos.

Toned and handsome, the young men glistened with sweat, and the French voyeur watched intently as their muscles rippled, elongated and vibrated as they smacked the volleyball back and forth over a tattered net.

She paid particular attention to one young man who was wearing a small pair of shorts and nothing else. The fabric of the shorts was thin, and his ample penis could clearly be seen flopping from side to side when he moved, an obvious indicator that he must have been nude underneath.

Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol resisted the temptation to pleasure herself right there and then.

Despite her strong and very specific sexual desires, the French divorcee experienced a crippling shyness around men that prevented her from actually following through on her vivid fantasies. Her pleasure was achieved exclusively from afar.

Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol was beautiful in a distinctively French way. She was tall and lean with long legs and average sized breasts, and unusual features.

Her colleagues at the all-girl high school where she worked as a visual arts teacher had told her that she looked like the French singer and actress Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Despite her obvious appeal, Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol had not had sex since the betrayal perpetrated by her husband five years prior. Sexual pleasure had been achieved solely through masturbation ever since he'd left her.

Apart from her lean frame and impressive Gallic features, there was something else that set Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol apart from most women in Sydney: she wore an eyepatch. She lost her left eye in a car accident when she was seventeen-years-old, and had worn the covering ever since.

When she recovered from the sad and painful ordeal of the car accident, young Jacqueline's life was further impacted first by her family's move to Australia, and then by the incessant bullying that followed when she commenced her university studies at the age of eighteen.

Being the only French girl on an Australian uni campus was cause enough for isolation, but Jacqueline's eyepatch made it even more pronounced.

Though all eighteen-years-old like her, these uni students were horribly immature in their relentless bullying.

As a damaged and painfully shy adult, Jacqueline largely avoided men. The then 25-year-old French schoolteacher had only married because her eventual Francophile husband had pursued her so relentlessly.

The eyepatch -- and the ugly scars beneath it -- were to him secondary to her Gallic beauty and sexy French accent. He almost fetishised Jacqueline's Frenchness.

Her late arrival in Australia meant that Jacqueline's French accent had always remained strong. Ignored at university, she had lived much of her young adult life totally alone with her French parents, and remained distinctly French in almost every way.

Prior to her marriage, Jacqueline's sex life had been built almost entirely upon fantasy, voyeurism and self-pleasure. She rarely found herself in situations where she could be pursued by men.

Jacqueline watched the Brazilian volleyball man in the short shorts and prayed that his phallus would accidentally spill free of its confines so she could see what kind of man he really was. She gazed longingly at his fellow players too, their hair soaked with sweat.

The ever horny Jacqueline imagined all of them naked. She closed her eyes and imagined all of their penises flopping wildly up and down, and from side to side, as they stretched, jumped and hit the ball. She smiled to herself with joy.

The shorts of another of the young men were drenched through and clung to his toned, perfectly shaped buttocks, riding alluringly into the crack between his taut cheeks. She saw the outline of his underwear and shivered with desire.

Jacqueline loved derrieres nearly as much as penises, and had frequently followed men down the street just to look at their glorious behinds.

On those very rare occasions when she saw an attractive man on the beach in a g-string, it would almost drive her wild with passion.

Jacqueline watched the Brazilian volleyball players high-fiving each other, the muscles in their arms and backs reverberating beautifully.

They finished their game and she moved on, imagining what she would like to do to them if she had the chance.

In her fantasies, Jacqueline liked to not only sexually exploit men but to humiliate them as well. She fantasised about having total power over a man.

She imagined tying up these young Brazilian men with rope, slowly stripping them of all their clothing, taunting them, laughing at them, mocking their manhood, overpowering them, and then having her sexy way with them. When she was done, she would cast them away nude, laughing at them the entire time.

Jacqueline had considered paying a man to subject himself to her sexual dominance, but the idea ultimately turned her off.

The point would be immediately lost if she knew that his humiliation was not only fake, but something that he himself actually desired for his own sexual gratification. There was no thrill for her in using and humiliating a man if he was going to enjoy it.

Because she had been treated so badly by her university peers during her young adulthood, Jacqueline would often fantasise about taking her revenge on them.

She imagined shaving the heads of the bitchy girls that mocked her, and then beating them senseless with her clenched fists and feet.

With the young men that sneered at her and belittled her, however, those revenge fantasies would take on a very sexual bent.

Eighteen-year-old Jacqueline would become aroused by imagining herself in positions of power, and sexually dominating and humiliating those that she despised.

Young Jacqueline created vivid masturbatory story scenarios in which she was an ingenious, brave, peerless French detective cracking major cases in Australia.

A fierce, confident adult in her fantasies, she was Detective Jacqueline "The French Angel" Chabrol, the most feared crime fighter in the nation. She was merciless, unstoppable and brutal. In these fantasies, her uni classmates would be cast in various roles.

In one scenario, The French Angel would interrupt one of the young men who bullied her robbing a house. She would barge in with her gun raised as he ransacked a safe.

Would she arrest him and take him to the police station? No, of course not...Detective Chabrol would instead make the hapless thief slowly take off all his clothes -- even his underpants -- at gunpoint.

"As you steal precious things from others, I will take something equally precious to you...your clothes!" she would sneer. "Strip, you filthy thief! Take everything off! And I mean everything!"

The cornered thief would nearly cry in protest, but he was shown the same kind of mercy that Jacqueline was shown at university...none!

Once hopelessly and completely naked, the hardened thief would then be sent off into the night with nary a stitch to cover himself.

"Hopefully you'll encounter a group of women out there, and then you'll really learn your lesson," she would yell at his departing backside while holding onto the thief's pile of clothes in triumph. "I'll keep your clothes as evidence!"

In another scenario, The French Angel would engage in rugged fisticuffs with another of her university bullies, who she cast as a dangerous veteran fugitive from the law.

An accomplished martial artist, Detective Chabrol would easily gain the upper hand over the struggling criminal. She would then use her fighting skills to strip off his clothes, piece by humiliating piece.

Despite his protestations, The French Angel would laughingly continue to denude the criminal. When left in just his underpants and begging for mercy, Detective Chabrol would coldly and ruthlessly offer none. She would icily look him up and down, increasing his embarrassment.

"All that stands between you and complete and utter humiliation is that pair of underpants," she would taunt the criminal. "And they're coming off!"

Detective Chabrol would then violently wrench the underpants from his body, leaving the criminal completely nude, with his penis hanging free. The French Angel would then grab his arms and twist them behind him, and a torrid spanking would ensue.

"You must learn your lesson," Detective Chabrol would roar while slapping away violently. "You have been stripped and now you will be spanked! I am in total control of you!"

In another of her masturbatory fantasies, The French Angel would be in charge of a police line-up. Cast as the rounded up criminals were six of the bullying boys from university. In the scenario, Detective Chabrol was looking for a man with a tattoo located right near his groin.

"Drop your trousers, gentlemen," The French Angel would whisper. "It's police procedure."

The hardened but terrified and humiliated criminals would then dutifully drop their trousers and underpants so they could be checked for the tattoo.

All of a sudden, there were six worried, embarrassed faces and six large penises on display for the lip-smacking French Angel.

Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol walked along the promenade, her large floppy hat and huge dark sunglasses hiding her eyepatch and providing anonymity as she went about her voyeuristic business.

She checked out every young man who passed her, particularly the fit, muscled ones.

Jacqueline looked out across the sand, and drank in the sight of near-nude men returning to their towels from the water. Their bodies glistened and so did her nether regions.

She also cursed the invention of long board-shorts, which hid way too much of a man's body for her liking. For Jacqueline, the skimpier the swimsuit was, the better it looked.

She particularly enjoyed the fact that these men had no idea that they were being so brazenly objectified and fantasised about.

Their lack of knowledge meant that she had the upper hand in the situation, and thus all of the power. This feeling turned her on as much as their beautiful bodies did.

The sand was hot as Jacqueline stepped onto the beach. She removed her sandals and walked toward the water.

She scanned for any young men. She saw a dripping wet, exquisitely toned Adonis moving up from the water, and paused to see where he was headed.

She surreptitiously tracked him as he made his way to his towel, and unbeknownst to the young hunk, Jacqueline had him in her sights.

He was now to serve and function solely for her visual pleasure. He didn't know it, but he was now her plaything.

Jacqueline walked over in the young man's direction and casually dropped her bag and towel on the sand about five metres away from the muscled Adonis. As he picked up his towel and dried off his face, she sat down on the sand.

Jacqueline wore a loose-fitting casual white cotton beach dress with her one-piece swimsuit beneath, but knew that she wouldn't be heading to the water until she'd had a good, long look at the man before her.

The hunk looked to be in his mid-twenties, which was Jacqueline's preferred age for a man. He was over 6 feet tall, tanned and very muscular.

He was not, however, bulky in his musculature, but instead lean and taut with zero body fat. His torso was cut down in a gorgeous V-shape, and was deliciously free of hair.

This man obviously took very good care of himself, and Jacqueline presumed that he'd probably had all of his body hair waxed off if his torso was any indication.

Jacqueline instantly imagined his baby-smooth buttocks. She hoped for a minimal amount of pubic hair too. She liked a man to be almost statue-like.

The man's pectoral muscles were perfectly defined and rock-hard, while his abs looked like they were chiselled from marble.

His legs were rock-hard, and his biceps bulged impressively as he wiped his body dry. He truly was a joy to behold.

Jacqueline observed a curious eroticism in the man's movements, as if he was deliberately posing to make himself look as striking as possible. It was like he was modelling for her enjoyment. Had he noticed her looking?

The young man turned around to face the water, and Jacqueline was treated to an equally impressive view. The muscles in his back rippled and tensed wonderfully with his body's movements.

Jacqueline also noticed a large, dark brown birthmark on his right shoulder blade. It was just a discolouration of the skin, and not even remotely close to being a turn-off.

The young man's butt was incredibly firm and taut, and was shown off beautifully by his tight Speedo swimsuit. His legs were just as strong and powerful-looking from behind.

Jacqueline drank it all in with true pleasure, observing him like she would a sculpture by Michelangelo or a painting by Pollaiuolo.

The man continued to flex and stretch his muscles, and the French divorcee was convinced that he knew exactly what he was doing. Nobody could move like that without thinking about it. He appeared to be putting on a show just for her.

Jacqueline had often fantasised about the possibility of organising a life drawing class for the over-eighteen-year-old female students in her Year 12 art class.

The model would, of course, be male, and per the demands of the session, he would be completely nude.

No robe, no drapery, no perfectly positioned fig leaf or vase of flowers...he would be completely nude and without shame, and full frontally so at that.

She would encourage her eighteen-year-old female students to pay particular attention to his member while they sketched.

Just the thought of facilitating twenty young women admiring a man without his clothes got Ms. Chabrol aroused. She knew that they would be fascinated by his body and especially his uncloaked penis.

The school principal, of course, would never allow such a thing, even for students over eighteen. The girls would love it, but their parents would likely be far less approving...unless, of course, their mothers could join them in the class. What a delightful treat that would be for the women and their daughters.

If Ms. Chabrol were allowed such a trespass, however, this young man on the beach would be the perfect model. He turned around and she wondered again at his perfect physique and the fine, chiselled features of his face.

He had longish brown hair, which was wet and slicked back from his face. He looked almost like a young Joe Dallesandro, the famous American beefcake model and cult actor of the 1970s.

Jacqueline imagined keeping him caged in the spare room of her apartment, handcuffed and released only when she wanted to enjoy him physically.

All of his clothes would be permanently discarded and he would live the rest of his life completely naked.

Completely owned and sexually enslaved, his manhood would be hers whenever she wanted it. Ms. Chabrol felt herself moisten as she stared at the young man and her fantasies of domination and enslavement started to swirl.

Jacqueline's demeaning gaze moved from the man's beautiful face to his swimsuit. His Speedos were small and tight and she immediately noticed the monstrous bulge that they concealed.

She couldn't determine where the outline of his penis ended, and it indeed looked like his manhood was so big that he had to actually tuck it between his legs. He was so big that Jacqueline began to wonder if he had a sock or some other kind of padding in his swimsuit.

Done drying himself off, the man carefully spread out his towel on the hot sand. For no apparent reason, he raised his arms above his head for a moment, and flexed his biceps.

He then stretched dramatically. Jacqueline was now certain that he was putting on a show for her. She had never known a man to move around in such a preposterously erotic manner.

The young man sat down facing her rather than the water, inverse to what most people would do. He then leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs open wide...obscenely wide.

Jacqueline had the perfect view of his crotch, and she was impressed, as any woman would be. He glanced over and she was sure that he could tell that she was looking at him.

With his eyes on her, the Adonis slowly undid the drawstring of his Speedos. Surely he wasn't going to reveal himself right there on the beach? He'd be arrested for indecent exposure, although there was nothing indecent about this muscled up, perfect example of masculinity.

With the waistband of his Speedos loosened, he pulled them down a little, seemingly to give his monstrous member a little more room. He lifted his butt up and pulled his Speedos down slightly in the back.

They were now much looser, and she saw obvious gapping between the Speedos and his groin.

The young man quickly sat up and turned to check his phone, and the movement caused his loosened swimsuit to slide down further in the back.

This offered a quick glimpse of the top of his buttocks and Jacqueline shuddered with delight.

The Speedos were being slowly forced down with his movements and became increasingly loose around the man's inner thighs.

Jacqueline willed them to slide down further. She was desperate to see as much as she could.

This man appeared to be a complete peacock, preening and prancing to attract female attention. Luck was indeed with Ms. Jacqueline Chabrol on this glorious summer's day: the true voyeur had found the perfect exhibitionist.

She seriously considered the possibility of surreptitiously masturbating on this very public beach.