Oz Beach Boy Recalls a Female Hero

This is an entry in HEROISM: THE OGGBASHAN MEMORIAL EVENT 2023. This story features my recurring character Matt (a muscular, well-hung, 26-year-old sex addicted male exhibitionist) recalling his brief, casual, but ultimately deeply fulfilling relationship with a quietly heroic single mother. This is a CFNM story featuring male nudity, female-of-male body worship, male-of-female body worship, and one-on-one sexual activity. This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are over eighteen. I am endeavouring to write a CFNM "Oz Beach Boy" story in every Literotica category. This entry: "Erotic Couplings".

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It was a cool autumn's night in Sydney, Australia. I was lying naked in the king-size bed of my girlfriend, Odessa Prince. We'd had incredible sex an hour before, and my gorgeous partner was quietly sleeping, her perfect, pyjama-clad body buried beneath the rumpled bedsheets and blankets.

I was incredibly satisfied by the great sex we'd just enjoyed, and also by the deepening bond that was growing between Odessa and I. I was, however, a little unsettled, and I was having trouble sleeping. A couple of things were playing on my mind, and it was keeping me up despite the general sense of peace and pleasure that I'd been luxuriating in for the last couple of months.

Two events had sent my mind into a rare flurry of over-activity. A literary figure who I admired had passed away earlier that day, and I was saddened both by the obvious loss to his family, and also by the fact that I would no longer be able to enjoy the author's wry, intelligent, entertaining novels of suspense that frequently featured unlikely heroes battling corrupt, seemingly all-powerful systems and organisations.

The media had also lately been filled with stories about an Australian military hero who had recently experienced a major and very public fall from grace. Once viewed as a brave soldier who personified everything admirable about the military, this man -- big in both stature and presence -- had been revealed as a brutish killer of innocents.

It was a deeply disturbing and extremely polarising story, and it provoked a heated, multi-layered debate right across the Australian media. The whole sad and sorry affair had been playing on my mind a lot.

The convergence of these two events had me thinking a lot about heroism, and the many forms it took. In the case of these two men, the pen did indeed appear to be mightier than the sword, with the muscle and physical strength of one man uncovered as meaningless, while the intelligence and creativity of another would hopefully live on forever, long after his sad passing.

Lying restlessly in bed next to Odessa, I recognised the decency, sensitivity and passion of my quietly heroic girlfriend, who always stood up for what she thought was right, and who frequently placed herself in the corner of society's underdogs and marginalised through her regular charity work.

I thought too of my equally quietly heroic best friend, confidante and one-time foster sister, Darby Hamilton, who had emerged from a horrific childhood in foster care and state institutions as a strong young woman with a true sense of social justice.

As a lesbian, Darby had experienced discrimination and difficulty throughout her life, but she always rose above it with grace and good humour, and campaigned vigorously for many organisations dedicated to promoting the rights of those in the LGBTQIA+ communities. Darby Hamilton was a champion, and I was overjoyed to have her in my life.

My mind, however, kept drifting back to someone I didn't know nearly as well as Darby and Odessa. Before I started my relationship with Odessa, I'd been enjoying casual sexual relationships with a number of women, and the most bewitching of the group was unquestionably Monica Halsey, a single mother I met while doing volunteer work the previous Christmas at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital.

Though we only met occasionally for very, very warm and enjoyable sex, I had grown to deeply respect and admire the beautiful Monica Halsey. Aged in her very early forties, Monica was the mother of Archie, a freckle-faced eleven-year-old boy courageously battling leukaemia.

Despite the awful situation in which she'd been placed, Monica was always friendly and funny and up for a laugh. Bringing her a cup of tea in the afternoon was literally the highlight of my day volunteering at the hospital.

I'd never seen Archie's father around, and I later learned that this spineless prick had run out on Monica and Archie, too weak of heart to stand by his family when they really needed him. Instead, this apparently high-flying financial advisor had taken up with a woman half his age, and was frequently late in making his family support payments, despite clearly enjoying a flashy, fancy lifestyle.

Though I'm a fairly freewheeling, decidedly unwholesome, often sleazy and immoral narcissist myself, the shitty behaviour of Monica's ex-husband, Carl, was an absolute affront to me.

While many in Australia apparently admired this piss-weak big-shot for his career success, financial wealth, good looks, and regular appearances in the social pages, Carl Halsey was worthy only of utter contempt in my opinion. He might have gotten all the attention, but Monica was definitely the hero in their relationship.

I was at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital to volunteer and do the right thing, but I just couldn't help noticing how profoundly appealing Monica Halsey was. A fair bit older than me but sexy in a reserved, casual kind of way, Monica had long, mousy brown hair frequently pulled back in a ponytail. She had lively brown eyes and strong, sharp features, which were charmingly accentuated by the stylish tortoise-shell glasses she always wore.

An accountant by trade, Monica also had a very cheeky, naughty side as well, which she displayed in full-force when she surprisingly asked me to perform a "Sexy Santa" strip show for her and four of the other mothers on the children's ward...all in a safely locked room well away from the kids, of course! [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy's Xmas Hospital Strip"]

Though fairly outrageous, this kind of behaviour was pretty much par-for-the-course for me at the time. Though not clinically diagnosed as such, I'm most certainly addicted to sex. I'm a 26-year-old narcissistic Aussie male exhibitionist who loves getting nude, preferably with women watching me. That's my kink, and it's taken me to some truly bizarre places.

I spend hours training to get my body as ripped and muscular as I possibly can. Though partially for health and fitness purposes, my workout regime is principally designed to get my rig as shredded as possible in order to attract as much female attention as I can.

I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations, particularly around Sydney's many beaches and secluded coastal bays. I'm in a near perpetual state of horniness, and I've enjoyed a lot of sordid sex and many, many kinky hook-ups in my time.

All of that, however, got parked when Odessa and I agreed to embark upon a relationship together. She wanted us to be monogamous, and even though I knew it would be difficult, I agreed because I was so incredibly taken with her. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Come Together"]

Last Christmas, however, it was Monica Halsey who I was very taken with. We had very hot, passionate sex at the hospital right after my silly but highly arousing strip show, coming together in a truly amazing way.

We then continued to see each other afterwards for a little while until Monica started a relationship with a handsome doctor treating Archie. Thankfully that meant I didn't have to break things off with her when I started seeing Odessa, which would have really hurt.

With Archie in hospital and prior to our respective relationships, Monica and I would meet occasionally for sex at her small apartment, and we always had a great, wonderfully warm time.

In the moments before our sexy trysts, and afterwards when we lay around peacefully in each other's arms, I got to learn more and more about Monica. The pretty divorcee had things tough, and I was always happy to be a sounding board.

With Monica's shitbag husband pretty much out of the picture, the pressure was all on her when it came to Archie's care. Monica was there every day at the hospital, keeping her son as amused and comfortable as she could, while also dealing with complicated medical instructions and advice.

On top of Archie's constant care, Monica also kept her one-woman accounting business on track, often working deep into the night, only to get up early the next morning to travel into the hospital so she could be there to eat breakfast with her son. That was important to Monica, and she never missed the morning meal.

Tough and unyielding, Monica Halsey did it all with a smile. And if her own considerable travails weren't enough to deal with, Monica spent her occasional spare moments at the hospital checking in on the other kids when their parents couldn't be there, and also looking after the parents themselves, frequently talking them down from the proverbial ledge when their grief and sadness felt like it was becoming too much. Monica Halsey was an absolute trooper.

My own fucked up, party girl of a mother gave me up when I was just a baby -- leading to a precarious childhood spent in foster care and state institutions -- which is perhaps part of the reason why I responded so strongly to Monica, and why I respected and admired her so much for what she did for Archie.

I was extremely happy when Monica suggested we hook up again after our first glorious fuck at the hospital, and we got together several times, enjoying each other's bodies and losing ourselves in our strong sense of sexual connection...regardless of how casual it was.

Monica often said that I was like sexual respite, a welcome break from her sadness-filled life. We both knew our relationship would never become serious, and we were both fine with that; there was no dishonesty or false hope when it came to Monica and I. We liked to fuck and have fun; she well and truly deserved a good time, and I was more than happy to provide it.

As I lay next to the sleeping Odessa in the darkness of the bedroom, I guiltily tracked across my various trysts with Monica Halsey. Though they were all fun, one of our sexual meetings really stood out, for both its prolonged eroticism and also for how good it really made me feel...both during and after.

It all started with a text. I was at home in my underwear drinking a beer and watching a particularly brutal WWE match on TV. I'd just jerked off over Megan Thee Stallion's sexy Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo spread, and I was happy just relaxing when my phone buzzed.

"Hey Matt...shit day...u busy?" read Monica's text. "Wanna come over and make me feel gooooooood?" This was followed by a succession of smiley face, prayer hands, and eggplant emojis.

I literally jumped off the couch, pulled on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and slides, and almost ran down to my car. I drove carefully but very fast, and I was outside Monica's apartment block in about twenty minutes. I pressed the buzzer.

"Hello?" came Monica's surprised voice.

"Hi...eggplant delivery for Monica Halsey," I deadpanned.

"Oh, my god," Monica said with a laugh. "That was quick! Get up here, Matt, you sexy young stud! And take off your shirt in the elevator on the way up!"

Monica buzzed me in and I raced into the elevator. Once inside, I quickly peeled my t-shirt up and over my corrugated abdomen and marbled chest. I tucked it into the back of my shorts, and waited impatiently as the elevator made its trip upwards. It finally hit Monica's floor, and the doors slid open.

As I walked bare-chested out of the elevator, two fifty-something women passed me, both looking me up and down salaciously along the way. I heard the women laughing loudly in the elevator as I walked toward Monica's apartment, and I turned around to look at them. The older women both smiled at me.

"Come back and visit us, sexy," one of the women said with a wink as the doors slid shut. "We're in 5C, baby...you just knock anytime...those shorts won't last long though! We'll have your willy out before you're through the door!"

I laughed at the women's ribaldry, walked quickly to Monica's apartment, and then knocked gently on the door. The door flung open and Monica greeted me with a slightly sad but utterly heartwarming smile. Her eyes were red, and I knew that she'd been crying. I felt so much warmth and admiration for this incredible woman in that one sweet, upsetting moment.

"Bad one, huh?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah, awful," replied Monica, who was dressed casually in a white linen blouse and long beige skirt. "Shit at work, shit with Carl, shit at the hospital...shit everywhere...shit, shit, shit!"

"Shit, that's a lot of shit," I said with a smile as we walked inside. "Okay, tonight's all about you then, Monica. I'll do whatever you like."

"You can start by showing me your cock," Monica said with a naughty giggle. "That always cheers me up!"

I walked casually into the middle of Monica's living room, and then paused while she took a seat on her big, comfortable couch. Monica sensually crossed her legs, giving me an all-too-brief look up her skirt at her glorious inner thighs, and then smiled naughtily at me.

"You want it all off?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," replied Monica, who was without her tortoise-shell glasses, perhaps wearing contact lenses as she occasionally did. "All of it...don't just unzip and flop the ol' fella out...take off your pants."

I quickly kicked off my slides. Even though Monica had seen me naked several times, I was still excited about exposing myself to her again. I loved this sexy older woman looking at me in the nude.

I pulled my t-shirt from out of the back of my shorts and dropped it on the floor. I then unbuckled my belt, and unbuttoned and unzipped my denim shorts. I quickly pulled them apart, and I saw Monica's eyes widen with excitement.

I slid my shorts down over my muscled thighs and calves, and then pulled them off and over my bare feet without a hitch. With a cheeky smile, I folded my shorts and placed them carefully with my t-shirt on the floor.

I stood in front of Monica in just my fitted Calvin Klein trunks, and I noticed a smile play across the sexy older woman's full red lips, this time as she sneakily glanced at the bulge of my crotch. I ran my hands over my marbled pecs and rock-hard six-pack, and then smiled cheekily at Monica.

"Get your cock out, Matt," Monica said quietly but firmly. "Nudie rudie...come on, sexy! Let's see that whopper!"

With no hesitation whatsoever, I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my fitted Calvins, and then slid them down over my crotch and thighs, first revealing my small thatch of man-scaped, sandy brown pubic hair.

My big, fat, vein-pumped, uncut cock then flopped up and down as my Calvins finally slid over it. My huge member and equally outsized nut-sack swung and swayed ridiculously as I stepped out of my underpants. I dropped my Calvins on the floor with the rest of my clothes.

Monica smiled sweetly, obviously happy to once again be looking at me without the benefit of my clothing. I narcissistically flexed the muscles in my bare torso, and made tight fists of my hands to make my arms bulge impressively. I moved my hips gently from side to side to make my big cock swing a little, and Monica giggled.

"You're such a show-off, Matt," Monica said with an appreciative smile. "Swinging your dick like that! Some men would literally kill to have that thing between their legs!"

"Well, they're not getting it, because it's all mine...now, let's start with a foot rub," I said with a smile, and kneeled on the floor in front of Monica, my cock sliding onto the warm carpet as I leaned forward and took the pretty older woman's right foot in my hands.

"Oh, yes," Monica cooed. "That feels great...and you look great in the nude. It should be illegal for you to wear clothes."

"I wouldn't object," I said, and gently rubbed Monica's foot, working its tender sole with my thumbs. "If I knew I wouldn't be arrested, I'd walk around with my dick out all day long."

"You'd make all the other men feel inadequate," Monica purred. "And you'd get all the women wet!"

As Monica cooed, moaned and writhed ever so slightly on the couch, I applied more pressure to her arch with my fingers and then worked my thumbs into the top of her foot, pressing down into the muscle and tendons, and releasing some of the tension. I worked Monica's right foot for twenty minutes, kneading and rubbing it until it was soft and relaxed.

With my cock dangling absurdly and Monica constantly drinking in the sight of my nude, heavily muscled body, I placed her right foot gently on the carpeted floor, and then went to work on her left foot, kneading it just like I had with the right. Twenty long, lovely, sensual minutes later, I was done. Monica groaned with pleasure, which made me feel very, very good.

I then massaged Monica's calves, driving my thumbs and fingers into the soft skin and toned muscle, working out the knots and driving the tension from Monica's lower legs. I rubbed and stroked them, increasing the pressure when it felt right, and moving with Monica's appreciative moans. I was tempted to continue up Monica's legs and right to her pussy, but I managed to exercise a little restraint.

"Oh, that was great," Monica said with her eyes closed. "I feel better already. No woman could say no to a foot rub from a naked muscle man with a huge dick...I'm a lucky, lucky girl...at least for tonight."

I stood up, my dick and balls swinging around stupidly, and then slowly moved behind the couch. With my flaccid cock pressed up against the other side of the couch's back-rest, I reached down and placed my hands on Monica's tense, tight shoulders, and the pretty older woman moaned instantly.

I rubbed Monica's shoulders over her blouse, working my fingers in deep, stimulating the muscles and easing the tension, just as I had with Monica's delicate feet. After a few minutes, I unbuttoned Monica's blouse from behind, and then gently pulled it off over her supple shoulders. I folded it and placed it over the back of the couch.

Now clad in just a silky, lacy black bra, Monica's back and shoulders were almost fully exposed to me, and I quickly ran my hands all over them, first softly and carefully, just rubbing the smooth, supple skin, and then gradually with more and more pressure. Monica pushed back gently into my hands and moaned quietly.

I slowly increased the pressure until I was firmly kneading and working the muscles in Monica's neck, shoulders and back. I could feel the knots and tension, and I worked my fingers and thumbs hard to drive them out and smooth them down. I was having a great time, enjoying both my own nudity and Monica's very enthusiastic response to my eager massage.

I worked Monica's neck, back and shoulders from behind for nearly an hour until my fingers started to get sore and I could no longer resist the temptation of getting more sexual. Monica had great tits, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on them.

I unclasped Monica's bra from behind and then slid it forward, down and off over her arms. The now deliciously topless older woman dropped her discarded bra casually on the floor and then settled back into the couch, seemingly lost in the moment with her eyes closed.

I reached my hands down further and ran my fingers over Monica's firm, pale, nicely shaped, mid-sized breasts, rubbing and tweaking their small nipples and gently kneading their smooth, milky flesh. I carefully and gently fondled Monica's breasts, enjoying the sensation of my skin on hers, until, once again, I could resist no longer. I had to get closer to Monica.