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.
