June 2012 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Six – Premature Beginning

At least, I think she has a penis. She has a fairly substantial nub of flesh sticking out of her hairless crotch that looks to be the size of my thumb. Truthfully, it’s a very small penis, but it looks like a penis nevertheless.

“Oh, wow, is that…”

Cindi’s face becomes blank.

“What? Is that what?”

I point to her “penis.” I struggle to find words to speak.

“What is that? Is that a-”

“Penis?”

I nod my head awkwardly.

Cindi gives me a dirty look and bursts out laughing.

“No! It’s not a penis! I’m a woman, not a man. It’s my clitoris, you silly goose!”

Her clitoris? Seriously? That’s her clitoris?

Holy smokes!!!

Wow, that’s a huge clitoris! I swear it’s the size of my thumb. It’s just as thickness and shockingly the same length. I squint my eyes to take a closer look.

“It looks like a penis, but it’s my clit. Trust me, it’s a clit,” Cindi assures me once her laughter subsides.

Whoa! She’s one well-endowed lady.

“All those extra hormones I take do things to my body. It makes certain parts of me, uh, grow. One area that grew more than others was my clit. But I’m one hundred percent woman. I can assure you of that.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’re a woman. I was just, ahem, taken aback by that. It’s very large. I’m sorry I thought it was a penis,” I apologetically say.

“Don’t apologize, darling. It’s okay. This is your first time seeing a lady bodybuilder completely naked, right?”

“In person, yes.”

“There you go. This is a first experience for you. You’ve also never had sex before. So let’s change that. Get up.”

I stand up immediately. Talk about a height difference! Cindi towers over me, like a child talking to his mother. Before I can process the Oedipal ramifications of that thought, Cindi cups my face and kisses me again. Her vibrant tongue sweeps across my inner cheek as if my mouth was one giant ice cream cone. Even her tongue is powerful.

After our lips part, Cindi kisses my left cheek and makes her way down my neck and to my upper chest. The feel of her soft lips against my skin makes me tremble. I let out a sigh of pleasure when her tongue explores the inside of my bellybutton.

“That’s nice,” I say to her.

“Shhhhhh,” she says back.

Now on her knees, Cindi licks both my kneecaps like they’re the tastiest part of my body. My erection is standing straight at attention waiting for anything to happen. Finally, Cindi does what I’ve only dreamed of a woman doing: She tickles my scrotum with her fingers and lightly pricks my testicles with her long fingernails. I squirm with delight. If this is what foreplay is like, how could guys not like it?

In a moment I will always remember, Cindi slowly strokes her tongue up my hardened shaft. I feel a hundred thousand goosebumps erupt across my whole body. As the tip of her tongue reaches the sensitive tip of my penis, she extends her right hand and grips the base of my manhood with her index finger and thumb. I close my eyes in order to take in the entire sensual experience. She experiments with a single soft squeeze when suddenly-

Uh oh.

Oh shit!

Unexpectedly, I come and squirt semen all across her face. Cindi gasps and almost falls backwards. My knees start to jerk but I somehow manage to stay on my feet.

As my spasms subside, I look down at Cindi. Her face is completely covered in my semen. Oh. My. God. Did this just happen?

“Oh shit. Holy, God…oh no,” I say, rambling on incoherently.

Cindi catches a drop of my semen dripping off her forehead with her index finger. She stares at me. I stare back at her. There’s a long, awkward pause.

Then she burst into laughter.

Uncontrollable laughter. The kind of laughter reserved for a hilarious comedian telling the funniest joke in the world. The sort of laughter that will leave your belly aching and your throat sore for hours. That kind of laughter.

Cindi falls backwards and guffaws uproariously on the floor for what seemed like five minutes. In reality it was probably for only one minute, but it seems like an eternity. But there I stand, like an idiot, watching an unbelievably muscular woman with my sperm smeared across her face laughing hysterically at my expense.

“I….am so sorry, Ryan! This is TOO FUNNY!”

Uh huh. I can see that. Clearly.

“That’s okay,” I mumble.

Only now can I fully process what just happened. I prematurely ejaculated. Like a twelve-year-old boy. Like a teenager losing his virginity to the prettiest girl at school. This is stuff that high school boys don’t do. This is middle school crap. I just pulled what a middle school punk is expected to do.

How fucking embarrassing is that???

You know I’m really upset when I use the “F” word. Really upset.

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want to die right now. I want to become invisible, gather my clothes, storm out of this house and never return to this city. I never again want to look at Cindi out of fear that she’ll start to laugh at me again. I want to shrivel up and decompose like a corpse. I feel about as lively as a corpse at the moment.

Finally, Cindi’s laughter abates and she gets up with my semen still covering her face. I’m guessing some of her tears from laughing have been mixed into it by now.

“I’m going to wash this off,” she announces to me, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Go ahead.”

Cindi turns around and heads to her bedroom’s bathroom. She turns on the faucet and rinses my sperm-rich fluid off her visage. I still can’t believe this shit. I prematurely ejaculated. Isn’t this stuff that only happens in fiction?

She leaves the bathroom holding a tissue. She coughs a bit as a result of her laughing so much.

“I’m so sorry I laughed at you like that. It’s just that…the last time I saw that happen was when I was thirteen. The boy who did it was also thirteen. But you’re…”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three. Wow. Ten years older than that boy I knew. Sheesh. I’m so sorry. I can be a terrible person at times.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m obviously embarrassed, but I’ll have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

“You don’t look amused.”

“Would you be if you were in my situation?”

“No…I suppose not. Here, let me clean you off. It’s the least I can do.”

By now my penis has shrunk to the size of a short pencil. I guess it’s as embarrassed by that little snafu as I am. Cindi graciously wipes off the tip of my penis the small remaining amount of semen still oozing out. She even cleans up a small drip that fell on my right foot.

“You should…clean yourself up…yourself.”

“Good idea.”

I take the tissue and proceed to her bathroom. I close the door and toss the tissue in a trash can sitting next to the toilet. I look at myself in the mirror and cannot believe the face staring back at me. I’m Ryan Takahashi. Granted, a virgin, but a smart and savvy virgin. This shit isn’t supposed to happen to me! And not in front of a sexually experienced woman like Cindi North! Who has enough muscle mass for a family of four. Son of a bitch.

I lift the toilet seat, urinate, wipe off my little penis with toilet paper and flush. Afterward I wash my hands and look to my left to see an artistic photograph of a black African couple making love. They look very happy. The man looks very confident and sexually dynamic. The total opposite of me. I notice his very large penis ramming into the woman’s vagina and the look of ecstasy on her face. I doubt I’ll ever make Cindi react that way.

To my right is another photograph, probably by the same artist, of a naked ethnically-ambiguous man striking a dramatic pose in front of a marble statue resembling Leonardo da Vinci’s “David.” His penis if flaccid but it looks huge. I look down at my small Asian penis in shame. Not only am I small down there, but I went off prematurely when by now we should be in the throes of passion. What luck I turn out to have.

I finally open the door and see Cindi doing pull-ups from a pull-up bar hanging between a door frame. I guess I never noticed it there until now. Her large back muscles bulge wildly with every individual pull-up. She hears me come in and stops.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just getting some extra exercise in,” she says.

“Go for it. You’re a bodybuilder. Building your body is what you do for a living.”

There is an uncomfortable moment silence as Cindi finishes her set. Breathing steadily, Cindi releases the bar and lands on her feet. She turns around and wipes a drip of sweat off her brow. We look at each other, the memory of what just transpired fresh in our collective minds. Do we directly acknowledge what just happened, or do we proceed forward and let bygones be bygones?

“Look, Ryan, don’t be embarrassed. These sort of things happen.”

I guess she’s deciding to address this situation head-on.

“It’s okay. I am humiliated, but at least this will stay between us. You don’t have a hidden video camera anywhere, do you?”

“No, no hidden cameras anywhere. Trust me, what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. That goes for all my lovers, including you. This stays between you and me.”

“Lover?”

“Yes, I consider every man and woman I take to bed to be a lover of mine. I think we should consider more people to be our lovers. Our society forces us to be too picky about these things.”

“Yeah. I’m honored you consider me to be like that.”

Silence.

“Ryan, look at me.”

I’m staring at the floor shamefully. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.

“Yes?”

“It’s okay. Just take a deep breath and relax. This happens to every guy at some point in their life. Some more than others. This is something we’ll both laugh at months from now.”

“I don’t know. You didn’t hesitate to laugh your ass off just now.”

“God, I feel so horrible about that. I shouldn’t have laughed at you like that. It’s just…part of the reason why I laughed was because what you just did to me is sort of…a turn-on.”

A turn-on? Me ejaculating on her face? Isn’t that called a “facial?” Whoa there…

“A turn-on for you? You like it, when…”

“When a man comes on my face? Yes, I think it’s incredibly sexy. It’s a little fetish of mine. Oh, alright, it’s a rather big fetish of mine. I’ve done it many times before and it still gives me a special erotic feeling nothing else can. So thank you. Thanks.”

She’s thanking me for coming prematurely? I guess this is a blessing in disguise!

“You’re welcome.”

Our eyes meet. I stare deep into her soul. I like this woman. And she apparently likes me back. Where the hell is this “relationship” going to go? I keep forgetting that we only met less than an hour ago. Oh, how time flies.

“If you still feel a wee bit embarrassed, I completely understand. But you can do something that will make up for it.”

My ears perk up instantly. Redemption? I get the chance to prove to her that I am indeed a man? I like where this is going.

“What?”

“Please me…orally.”

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Five – The Art of Seduction

The walk back to her house did not take long. I lag slightly behind, watching her amazingly tight butt jiggle as she took each step. God, I want to cup her bottom and squeeze her cheeks together. Better yet, I want to feel her entire body. I want to explore every inch of her. I want to experience this woman in every sensual way possible.

Shit. I’m about to get my chance!

My heart is beating louder than a horse galloping across a meadow. Cindi appears calm, as if what we’re about to do is no big deal to her. Hell, she’s had four children from four different men. Sex isn’t exactly one of her personal taboos.

“How are you feeling?” Cindi asks.

“I’m feeling well. I’m, uh, excited.”

“Excited? Good. I’m looking forward to this too.”

She’s actually looking forward to sleeping with me? Hell yes!

Cindi gets out her keys and unlocks the front door. I’m amazed her thick legs can fit into those skintight pants.

“After you.”

“Thank you.”

I enter her house and look around. She turns on the lights and I see a very well-put-together home. There are floral arrangements, art decorations, comfortable furniture and photos from her bodybuilding career sprawled across her living room walls. I’m not much of an expert in interior decorating, but I can tell she has proper aesthetic taste.

Speaking of well-put-together, Cindi closes the door and takes off her shoes. I follow suit.

“This is my home. Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes. It looks very nice. Did you decorate it yourself?”

“Believe it or not, no. I had a friend help. He’s gay.”

I laugh.

“He has good taste. I like the painting over there.”

I point to a portrait of a tall, muscular Amazon woman posing triumphantly after brutally slaughtering a large group of male warriors. The Amazon woman doesn’t seem to resemble Cindi, but the parallels are strikingly evident.

“I’m glad you like it. He didn’t paint it, but he found it for me at an art auction. I have mixed feelings about it.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t like violence. I believe a woman can be stronger than a man, but violence isn’t the way to show it. Strength and violence should never be seen as one and the same.”

I think about that for a moment.

“That’s very deep. I don’t like violence either. That explains why I’ve never been in a fight.”

“Have you ever had the chance to be in a fight?”

“Well, not a traditional fist fight. I’ve been involved in a few verbal arguments, but none of them led to anything but hurt feelings and toys being taken away.”

Cindi smiles. I notice she doesn’t wear makeup. That makes her even hotter. God, this woman is unbelievably sexy. I want to rip off her clothes right now and-

“Would you like something to drink? I know you didn’t want coffee, but would you like something stronger, like a beer or a glass of wine?”

I shake my head. “No thanks. We can drink later.”

Uh oh. Did that just slip out? Did I just say that? Did I just imply that we’re going to do something else before drinking alcohol?

“Later? You mean, after we have our fun?”

My stomach turns inside out. I think my heart just leaped into my throat. I think I know exactly what she means by “fun.” I hope we’re on the same page.

“Yes, after we have our bit of fun.”

Cindi leads me into the living room. She fills the entire room. I still can’t get over how large of a body she has. She’s well over six feet tall and is as husky as a pro football player. Hell, she’s built like a defensive end and could probably play the position at the NFL level. Would they accept a woman into professional football? Probably not. In Cindi’s case, they’d probably be afraid she’d hurt too many players.

She sits down on a light blue couch and motions for me to sit down next to her. She stretches her long, powerful legs onto a coffee table and perches them on top for me to gaze at. Is she showing off herself to me? I’d prefer if her clothes were gone.

“Ryan, before we do anything further, I think we should set some ground rules. Do you agree?”

“Yes, we should definitely set up boundaries. We’re both adults here. We don’t want anything to get out of hand.”

“Good boy. As we both discussed before, we’re not looking for anything long term. A long term relationship is not something I’m seeking right now. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. That is clear.”

Cindi smirks.

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ That makes me feel old.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

She chuckles. “Smartass.”

I chuckle back. If this isn’t seduction, I don’t know what is. I read somewhere using humor is a great way to seduce a woman before taking her to bed. Is this true? I sure hope so.

“Second, because I don’t know you too well and you don’t know me, we’ll keep it simple for now. Just regular, normal, vanilla sex. Nothing fancy. If we decide we want this to become an on-going thing, we can discuss that at a later time.”

“Agreed.”

“Third, there’s no guarantee this thing’s going to last beyond tonight. My instinct about you is that you’re a harmless boy looking for some fun. If you prove to be anything other than harmless, this stops immediately. Is that understood? I’m bigger and stronger than you so I can easily fight back if things get rough.”

“Trust me, I have no intention to do anything out of the ordinary. And I would never want to get on your bad side. That could prove fatal for me.”

“Good. Am I sounding like a police officer reading you your Miranda Rights?”

“Close. You sound like a skydiving instructor teaching me how to jump out of an airplane.”

“Hm. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never skydived before.”

“Neither have I. But I hear it’s fun.”

Why the hell are we talking about skydiving?

“Why the hell are we talking about skydiving?” she asks.

Wow. We’re thinking the same thoughts. This is a good sign.

“Lastly, once we get into bed, anything goes. Except one thing: pain. I don’t like pain. I’m not into that. Are you?”

“No way. I’ve never tried that sort of thing and I’m not willing to experiment quite yet.”

“Then again, you’ve never really experimented with anything yet, have you?”

REALLY? Are you really doing this, Cindi? Bringing my virginity into the discussion?

“Hey! I take offense to that!” I retort.

Her face instantaneously expresses guilt.

“I’m so sorry! I apologize profusely. Did I really offend you?”

“Whoa! No, not really. But, uh, it’s kind of a sensitive subject. Not exactly something you’re proud of, you know what I mean?”

Cindi’s expression softens.

“Yes, I know what you mean. I didn’t mean to offend you. That’s something I hate more than anything. Disrespecting someone. That disgusts me.”

“Me too. Like I said, don’t worry. I’m not offended too easily.”

There is a long, awkward pause. Cindi shifts around in her seat while I look strangely at her socks. She has black socks. How many women wear black socks?

“Would you like to see my bedroom?”

Oh baby. Could the answer to that be any more obvious?

“I would love to, Cindi.”

“Good. Follow me.”

And with that, she gets up and walks out of the room toward a staircase leading up to the second floor. I follow her meekly and watch her amazing body travel up the stairs. Her impeccable butt sways from side to side as she struts. I want to explore every inch of her body. Every inch. And I mean every inch. The walk back from the coffee shop didn’t take long, but this short walk up the staircase is taking an eternity!

We stop on the second floor. There are cute little porcelain figures sitting on a shelf and more artworks portraying powerful naked women dominating men. I see a pattern here.

Her bedroom is at the end of a long hallway stretching across the entire house. I continue to gaze upon her body with awe as she pushes open the door and beckons me into her bedroom. Her bedroom. Her temple. The place where her body, the real Temple, sleeps at night. This is holy ground that I am now walking on.

Cindi closes the blinds on her bedroom window. Her movements are deliberate yet nonchalant. She has the uncanny ability to act very feminine while sporting large, masculine-sized muscles. It is this dual nature that defines her unique beauty.

“Close the door, please,” Cindi quietly commands.

I abide.

“Thank you,” she says after I shut the door behind me.

Cindi takes a long moment to look at me. I feel every fiber in my body tensing up. I could die of a heart attack right here. My breathing stops. Her dark brown eyes pierce into me like a sharp dagger. Is she staring into my soul? Or is she toying with me?

“Did you bring a condom like I asked?”

That sudden question wakes me from my spell.

“I did, but they’re in my car. I can go get them if you’d like me-”

“That’s okay. I have plenty right here.”

She opens her dresser drawer and takes out an unopened box of lubricated condoms. She rips open the box with her right index finger like a steak knife going through warm butter. She tears off a single condom wrapper and places it on top of her dresser. I watch her toss the box back into the drawer and close it shut. This shit is REALLY getting real now.

“Come here,” Cindi instructs me.

“Uh, okay,” I weakly respond.

“Don’t be shy. I won’t hurt you. I may look intimidating, but I won’t bite.”

Don’t be intimidated? How can I not be intimidated by a tall muscular woman who could bend and break me in half with her bare hands? How could I not be a little scared by a woman with biceps the size of cantaloupes?

I slowly approach her like a high priest entering the Temple of Solomon. When we’re less than two feet apart she reaches out and cups my face with both her hands. She bends down and kisses me on the lips. Her callused fingers feel like leather boots rubbing against my cheeks. Her lips are soft as silk and sweet as fresh fruit. I want to taste her over and over again.

“Your lips are sweet,” I say to her.

“Thank you. You smell nice,” she says.

Before I can say anything in response, Cindi tugs at my shirt and lifts it above my head. She drops it to the floor as she begins to kiss my neck. I feel a bit insecure being shirtless in front of a supremely muscular woman, but my insecurities take a back seat to the extreme arousal I am feeling at the moment. Cindi squats down and unfastens my belt. My erection is very visible. She unzips my jeans and lowers them to the floor.

“I don’t care what anybody says. I think you have a nice body,” Cindi says.

She thinks I have a nice body? Yowza! My confidence just increased by 400%.

“Not as nice as yours,” I say.

“It’s not a contest. Just take the damn compliment.”

I laugh. She laughs back as I kick off my pants and take off my socks. Cindi pinches the sides of my underwear and drags them to my ankles. I step out of them and kick my clothes off to the side with my feet. I am now completely naked.

Cindi takes a step back and inspects my body from head to toe. How do I stand a chance against all the male bodybuilders she must meet on a regular basis? Yes, I work out often enough, but I’m a scrawny shrimp compared to her male peers. Heck, I’m a scrawny shrimp compared to all of her female peers.

“I like what I see. For a non-bodybuilder, you’re very well defined. I especially like your biceps.”

She likes my biceps? I guess all those hours doing bicep curls are paying off! But really, her biceps are, like, 1000% better than mine.

“Thanks, Cindi. I like your entire body.”

“Would you like to see more?”

I nod. Did she really need to ask that question?

“Good. Have a seat.”

I sit down on the bed and watch Cindi perform a striptease routine of epic proportions. She steps back so there is at least six feet between us. I love the feel of her soft bed sheets against my naked body.

“Watch and enjoy.”

I sure will.

She starts by swaying her hips from side to side like a veteran salsa dancer. God! She has the body control of a ballerina! Is there anything this woman can’t do? Cindi lifts her shirt above her head and tosses it across the room. I look at her bare midriff and my eyes just about pop out of my head.

Her abs. Oh my God. Her abs.

HER ABS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If I had to choose one part of her body that is most impressive, it would have to be her abs. Holy mackerel! Lots of guys have a six-pack, but Cindi has at least an eight-pack! And the definition of her abdominal muscles is divine. They look like someone glued eight square rocks on her stomach.

Holy cow, her ABS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I could lick them all day. And all night. And all week. And all month…

But let’s get back to the rest of her erotic dance.

She’s wearing a white cotton bra that barely fits around her massive chest. Her overall muscle definition is something to drool over! Every inch of her body is packed with muscle. She looks like she has muscle growing on top of other muscle. There are no soft spots on this amazing woman.

Cindi continues her striptease show by unzipping her pants and slowly easing her way out of them. Her legs are as thick as watermelons (and I’ll bet she could crush one between her legs as well!). She reaches down and takes off her socks as she steps out of her pants that have pooled around her feet. She is now only wearing a white G-string thong and a bra.

“Your body is beyond words.”

“Then don’t speak,” Cindi cleverly responds.

Then Cindi does something that I will never forget. She leisurely twirls around like an angel to show off her entire body. Her back muscles are almost enough to make me come right now. I also love her large, tight butt that puts every skinny woman to shame. She then approaches the bed with her back turned toward me.

“Unhook my bra, darling.”

“Will do.”

I fumble around with the bra while brushing my fingers against her hard back. If I were blind never in a million years would I guess this body belongs to a woman. For crying out loud, I can see just fine and I still can’t believe this body belongs to a woman!

Finally I unhook it and her bra drops to the floor unceremoniously. Cindi turns around and reveals the one singular flaw in her otherwise flawless body: her ridiculously small breasts. I’m guessing years of steroid use are probably responsible for shrinking her mammary glands. But I digress. Her flatness is not a strike against her. I’d still cup them and play with them. Her dark brown nipples are standing erect, ready for my mouth to cover them.

Cindi now only has one article of clothing left covering her divine figure. I cannot wait for this. She pulls back her wavy long black hair so they don’t cover her breasts.

“I see you looking at my breasts. Do you think they’re small?”

From the sound of her voice, I could tell she’s insecure about them.

“They are small, but I couldn’t care less.”

She smiles.

“Thank you, darling.”

My kind words are rewarded by a long, languorous kiss that lasts a lifetime. Cindi pulls back and prepares to strip off the final piece of clothing that remains clinging to her god-like body. I love her skin color. Her light brown complexion allows her muscles to fully entertain the eye. Her body is art.

Cindi slowly pulls her G-string thong down to her ankles. She is now completely naked. My heart is beating faster than an Olympic sprinter after winning the 1000 meter dash.

My eyes look up and down at her perfectly chiseled form. But when I peer down below her waist, I see something that makes my jaw drop.

She has a penis!

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Four – Meeting Cindi

I’m racing up I-5 so fast I’m afraid I’m going to get pulled over by a cop. Right now I’m driving in the far left lane (the furthest left lane is for carpools) doing 75 mph. I should probably slow down. The police are usually out in droves on Saturday nights.

Grace Gonzalez. I had no idea she went by a different name. I’ve seen about a half dozen videos of her online. She only posts videos showing her working out and displaying feats of strength. Nothing pornographic in nature. A lot of FBBs also work in porn because bodybuilding isn’t a terribly lucrative enterprise. But trust me; there will always be horny guys like me who want to see their beautiful bodies in “action.”

It’s a little unusual for a woman to want to meet an unknown man alone at her house. Despite her freakish strength, this doesn’t seem very safe. I could be a serial killer. Or a rapist.

Hell, she could be the serial killer.

Oh shit.

Nah, that can’t be true. She’s legit. I’ve seen her work. She’s definitely an athlete, not a psychotic killer.

I exit I-5 and head west toward her home. Fifteen minutes later I’m in a quiet residential neighborhood filled with upper middle class homes. How much do bodybuilders get paid? I suppose that depends on how much money they win competing in contests.

Because it’s so dark I slowly peer to my left to try to catch her house number. I think I spot it and I pull over to the side of the road and park. My heart is thumping at least a thousand beats per minute. I feel sweat dripping down my back. I think my fingers are shaking. I’m surprised I made it here without crashing into a light post first.

I step out of my car and look closely at a modest two story off-white (at least I think the house is off-white. It’s difficult to say for sure in these conditions) house surrounded by a chain link fence, several green hedges and a tall oak tree in the front lawn. I don’t see any guard dogs anywhere. The house number matches the address she gave me. I take a deep breath and approach the front door.

As I step on her porch I see a handwritten note taped to the door. It reads:

Dear Ryan,

If you’re reading this message I can assume you found my house. Right now I’m sitting at a coffee shop just four blocks away from here. It’s called Anytime Espresso and it’s right down this street heading east. I look forward to seeing you there.

Kisses,

Cindi.

Of course! She would never meet me alone at her house. She would much rather meet me in a public setting. I follow her directions and briskly approach a small business area adjacent to the residential homes. Sure enough, there is an establishment called Anytime Espresso. I’m guessing this place gets its name because it’s open 24/7. But I could be wrong.

What I hope I’m not wrong about is Cindi being here. I didn’t come all this way just to be stood up. Why did she originally tell me to meet her at her home when all along she intended to meet me in a public place? Did she decide to meet me here at the last minute? Or is this going to lead to some scavenger hunt where I have to snoop all over Everett looking for this woman?

Before I can finish asking myself more useless and incoherent questions, I open the door and look around. My blood pressure must be through the roof.

I see a barista sitting at the counter looking at her phone. She peers up and sees me standing there like an idiot.

“Welcome. What can I get you?”

“Hi. I’m meeting someone. Did you—”

“She’s in the back. Over there.”

She points to a door that leads to a separate room. I casually nod to her and head toward my destiny. She continues to read whatever is on her phone.

Every step makes my knees shake. My breathing turns heavy. I can now feel the sweat dripping down my legs. If Cindi is actually in this building, I think I’m going to faint.

Standing right in front of a closed wooden door, I slowly extend my right hand and grab the doorknob. It feels cold, like the ominous opening to a haunted mansion. I twist the knob and push the door open. It creaks noisily. I take a deep breath, wipe a drip of sweat off my cheek and walk in.

I look around.

I see her.

She’s sitting at a small table in the far left corner sipping an espresso and reading a fitness magazine.

Cindi North.

The Woman, the Myth, the Legend.

She looks up and sees me standing there like a horny bastard.

“Hello there. Ryan, I presume?”

“Yes. That’s me. Cindi, right?”

“Yeah. Come on over. Have a seat. Do you want anything?”

Besides the obvious?

“No thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

I creep over to her table and give her a look over.

Oh. My. God.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Look at this woman’s body. I mean, look at her! (I realize you can’t see her, but let me tell you, she has a body that could stop the space-time continuum)

She’s an eye-popping specimen. Wearing tight blue jeans that show off her tree stump thighs and a short sleeved low-cut blouse that shamelessly exposes her massive biceps, Cindi is everything I dreamed she would be. Ripped, tanned, ridiculously muscular and wearing clothing that intentionally flaunts her gargantuan figure, Cindi is without a doubt the real deal. I feel my penis harden. I’m surprised it isn’t hard already.

She stands up and shakes my hand. Her grip is firm. I can feel her hard, callused fingers as they wrap around my soft fingers.

“I’m glad to finally meet you in person. I’ve been anxiously waiting for you to show up.”

“Likewise.”

That’s the best I can do? Great.

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

Wow! She’s tall! I couldn’t tell from her photograph how tall she is, but she definitely looks down at me when we meet face-to-face. I’m a good 5’7”, so she must be at least 6’3” or maybe even 6’4”. She has light brown skin that looks like a very dark tan. And from the looks of it, her skin appears to be as smooth as leather. She speaks with a deep, gravelly voice that I guess is caused by taking steroids. I bet she sings baritone in the choir.

Standing next to her, I’m amazed at how massive she is. Her wide shoulders take up the whole room. Her forearms are as thick as my legs. She looks like she could carry a refrigerator on her back. And let’s not forget about her legs. Holy cow, I’ll bet she could crush a bowling ball between her magnificent thighs.

“Did you find my place alright?”

“Oh, yes. And I obviously found your note.”

“Yes you did. Good job. Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“I’m very sure. I just want to talk.”

“That’s fine with me. Tell me about yourself, Ryan. Or do you want me to go first?”

“Nah, I can go first. Unless you’re dying to share something with me.”

“Well, I sort of am. You probably want to know why I’m specifically seeking out an Asian guy.”

She’s right. I am dying to know that. But I can’t force her to reveal that yet. It’s too soon. I’ll let that pass and change the subject to something else.

“I do, but let’s not go there yet. I’ll start with myself. My name is Ryan Takahashi. I’m single, I work at a gym doing janitorial work and I desperately want a career change.”

Cindi laughs. Her laugh is deep, melodious and very sexy. I feel my stomach twitch.

“Why do you want a career change? Don’t like mopping up other people’s sweat?”

“That’s certainly part of it, yes. I think I could be doing something better with my life. I want to be a writer. But jobs for professional writers are scarce. Very scarce.”

“Hm. I’ll bet. Try being a professional bodybuilder. There’s very little money in that.”

Should I ask her how she makes a living? Of course not! Talking about money would be a horrible idea. I…uh…wow! I can’t stop staring at her amazing body! She’s so incredibly thick and defined. Every inch of her body is covered in muscle. She must have muscles layered on top of other muscles. God, I just want to lick her arms right now. I want to bury my face in her bulging biceps and-

“Are you going to ask me how I make a living?”

That woke me up from my mini-day dream.

“Oh? Uh, no. You don’t need to answer that. Money might not be the best thing to talk about at this moment.”

“Okay. Fair enough. Why are you into female bodybuilders?”

“Why do you think I’m into female bodybuilders?”

“Ooh, good answer! Let me guess…you’ve probably never met someone like me before, right?”

I nod my head silently.

“There has to be the element of curiosity. I’m guessing you’ve seen a lot of pictures of female bodybuilders, am I right?”

I nod my head silently again.

“Okay, okay. You probably get turned on by looking at women with muscles. Is it that simple?”

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!”

Cindi laughs again. She’s a very pleasant lady. For some reason I get this impression that all FBBs are serious man-hating meatheads who would rather crush your skull than tell a joke. I realize this is an atrocious social stereotype with absolutely no merit whatsoever, but that’s the impression I get. Cindi (or Grace, depending on which name she goes by) is a nice woman. Very nice. I could get used to this.

“Well, if you’re looking for a woman with muscles, look no further. Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody stronger than me?”

“I highly doubt it. You’re stunning, Cindi. Or should I call you Grace?”

A slight smile creeps across her face. There has got to be a story behind this.

“Grace Gonzalez is my professional name. My birth name is Cindi North. I was adopted when I was a baby and I’ve never met my biological parents. I know I’m part Puerto Rican, so I go by Grace Gonzalez to honor that part of my heritage.”

“Have you ever sought to locate your birth parents?”

Cindi’s smile disappears. Oh, shit. I may have asked too personal of a question!

“Yes. But they don’t want to know me. My birth mother was fourteen when she had me. My birth father was in this 40s. As you can expect the circumstances of my birth were not pretty.”

Her father was a pedophile? Was her mother raped? Dear God, this is getting heavy.

“If you don’t want to talk about this, you don’t have to. We can talk about something else if you’d like.”

“That’s okay. I’m not ashamed of my life. What I can’t control I shouldn’t worry about.”

“Hm. Have you ever been married?”

“Yes, twice. I divorced my second husband almost three years ago.”

“Are you looking to remarry?”

“No, I’m looking to have fun. That’s why I put that message on Craigslist.”

“All work and no play makes Cindi a dull girl?”

Cindi chuckles again. If she’s laughing, I must be doing something right. Right?

“Something like that. In addition to having two husbands, I have four kids.”

Holy shit! Four kids? She’s a MILF!!!

“Four kids? How old are they?”

“This might shock you, but I’ve had four kids from four different fathers. I’ll admit, that kind of makes me a whore. I had my first-born daughter when I was sixteen with a boy I knew in high school. My second child, another girl, came when I was eighteen. Her father was a neighborhood boy I grew up with. I had my third child, a son, with my first husband when I was twenty-five. We divorced and I had my fourth child, my third daughter, with my second husband. I was twenty-seven.”

Let me add these things in my head. According to her bio, she’s 48-years-old, which means her eldest daughter is 32, her second oldest is 30, her son is 23, and her youngest daughter is 21. Wow. I’m younger than at least two of her children. Damn!

“That’s quite a life. I have no kids. Nor have I ever been married.”

“Do you plan on getting married?”

“Sure, but not yet. I need to meet the right girl first.”

“Do you think that girl could be me?”

I stare at her in disbelief. I can’t think of a good come-back.

“I’m kidding, Ryan! I know you’re not looking for a serious relationship with me. You’re looking to fuck.”

That slightly startled me. Somehow, when she said the word “fuck,” it hit me on a gut level that I’m going to have sex with this woman in a short while. Wow! That realization is enough to give my already erected penis an additional jolt.

“That’s rather crass, but yes.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Are you a virgin?”

I’m stunned again. Did she just ask me that? How do I answer? Do I tell her the truth, or do I make up some story about how I’ve had sex with so many girls I’ve lost track?

“I’m, uh, well, I…”

“You are. Just admit it. It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

She sounds very reassuring and nonjudgmental. Her eyes glow with love like a mother tending her young. How can I not answer her honestly?

“Yes, I am.”

“I knew it! Somehow, I knew it the moment you walked into the room. But that’s okay. We’ll change that. Follow me.”

And with that, Cindi gets up, pushes her chair in, drinks the last of her coffee, puts the magazine back on a bookshelf and walks toward the exit.

“You seem harmless enough, Ryan. Let’s go to my place.”

“Okay.”

That last line is delivered weakly and almost to myself. Is this real? Is she inviting me over to her place for sex? Well, that shouldn’t be too surprising, considering the fact she posted a sexual ad on Craigslist in the first place. But it’s getting real! Like, really real! I’m about to have sex with a strong, muscular female bodybuilder!

If this is all a dream, I’m going to murder someone.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Three – Saturday Night Gmail Chat

6:30 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:31 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:32 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:33 p.m.

Arg! When will it be 8 o’clock? The wait is killing me!

Sigh. I really need to take a chill pill. Or down a shot of whiskey. I need to do something to calm my nerves. I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever anticipated something quite like this. Not even the release of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace as an eagerly geeky 12-year-old boy can top this. Yeah, that about sums it up.

So…where is that bottle of scotch?

Let’s hope, unlike Episode I, this chat with Cindi isn’t a colossal disappointment. I still need to keep in mind that Cindi might not even be a real person. It’s possible “she” could be a Craigslist scammer trying to pry money out of my female muscle-obsessed hands.

God, I hope not!

The more I look at her picture the more I fall in love with her. Wow, did I just use the word “love?” How can I love somebody I’ve never met? Can you fall in love with someone when a single e-mail exchange is the total extent of your relationship?

I also need to remember that even if she is real, she doesn’t appear to be looking for a long-term relationship. She wants a “young Asian male for a night of NSA sex,” to quote her Craigslist ad. Does she want to “test ride” me to see if I fit her standards? What standards is she using? Attractiveness? Sexual performance? Intelligence? All of the above? None of the above?

6:45 p.m.

Good. Time is moving.

Maybe I should go on Gmail right now and see if she’s on. Even though she said 8 o’clock, if she sees we’re on at the same time, maybe she’ll want to chat earlier. Let’s give it a try.

I log in to my Gmail account and check out who’s active. So far, not a whole lot. I see Annie Nakamura is on. She’s an old friend who’s essentially the female version of myself. We’re the same age and grew up together. We went to the same daycare, church, school and college. We’ve gone on a few dates before but we never crossed that threshold into “boyfriend/girlfriend.” Maybe it’s because we’re practically brother and sister. It feels weird dating someone you’ve known your whole life.

I don’t know for sure, but I’m going to assume Annie is a virgin like me. She’s never had a boyfriend, much like I’ve never had a girlfriend. She’s quiet, moderately cute, not terribly outspoken and spends way too much time practicing the piano. She’s a wizard at the piano. You should have listened to her senior recital. I’m not much of a music guy, but it blew me and everybody in attendance away. That girl can play.

Like a lot of Japanese girls, Annie is short, petite and has very small breasts. Her breasts are so small, I don’t even know if she wears a bra. I’ve known her all her life and I can never recall a “blossoming” period. But I don’t count that against her. She’s sort of cute and very smart and kind-hearted. She’ll make some guy very happy someday. But not me.

I’ve often thought about the possibility of dating her. This is sort of an awkward subject for us. Neither of us has ever said we want to enter into a relationship. However, neither of us has ever said we don’t want to enter into a relationship. It’s a topic we keep quiet so it doesn’t affect our friendship. Maybe it’s best we stay friends.

But am I “friend-zoning” her? Does she want to be boyfriend/girlfriend but she’s too timid to ask me? Annie is not the type of person who will open up about her feelings. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a boring person, but she just doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeves.

Heck, this should tell you something about us. Here it is, a Saturday night, and the two of us are on Gmail chat instead of socializing with friends. What sucks is that she lives in Tacoma and I live in Seattle so we don’t get to see each other very often. Maybe if we lived closer we’d be able to explore our relationship further. But that doesn’t appear to be happening any time soon.

As usual, neither of us wants to chat. Oh, Annie just left. Now it’s just me.

6:53 p.m.

Can time move any slower?

It still perplexes me that Cindi North is nowhere to be found on search engines. I know some people do everything possible to make themselves invisible. Some go as far as to hire a web expert. But why would Cindi do such a thing? Is she a fugitive from the law?

I then look at my Gmail chat list and see Cindi North has just checked in! Holy crap! She’s on now! What do I do? Do I do nothing? Or should I initiate the contact? In her e-mail message she never says who is expected to initiate the conversation. Should I message her and ask if she’s available to chat? Or would that come off as being desperate? Or is this a test to see if I’d message her first, which would tell her I’m earnest in my interest in her? I hate mind games. Or maybe this isn’t a mind game at all…

Suddenly a chat box pops up from a “Cindi North.”

Well, that puts an end to all that speculation.

Her message reads “Ryan! Do you want to talk now?”

I sure do! I respond with “Yes! I’m free to talk now.”

I wait a few seconds which seem like hours. Finally, she writes “Great! How are you doing?”

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeet! She wants to chat now, not an hour from now. Our conversation thread unfolds like this:

Me: I’m doing awesome! How are you?

Cindi: Spectacular! I got a good workout in today.

Me: Me too. Where do you work out?

Cindi: I work out at the Everyday Fitness in Everett. You live in Seattle, right?

Me: Yes, I do.

(I instantly open a new screen and Google “Everyday Fitness” in Everett. The place is real, apparently. It’s a small chain with five locations across western Washington and one randomly in Kentucky. I click on their company website to see if they have any photos of famous clients. Gyms that are frequented by professional bodybuilders almost always post photos of them to show they’re a legit place to be.)

Cindi: I like your photo. We should meet up. You okay with that?

Me: I’m very okay with that. Who are you, exactly?

Cindi: I’m Cindi.

Me: I know that. But are you a real bodybuilder?

Cindi: I am. Do you think I’m lying?

Me: I Googled you and nothing came up.

(As I type this, I see there are no photos of famous patrons. In fact, there aren’t much photos of anything. This website sucks.)

Cindi: Cindi North is my birth name. But when I work I use a different name.

(Hm. She’s toying with me. She speaks in short, direct sentences and prods me to ask further questions. This doesn’t smell right.)

Me: I’m not saying you’re a liar. I just think it’s weird for someone not to have an online presence these days.

Me: You can’t blame me for doing research, huh? 😉

(There is a long pause. Finally she begins to type again.)

Cindi: My bodybuilding name is Grace Gonzalez.

(Holy shit! Grace Gonzalez? I recognize her! She’s put up some crazy awesome YouTube videos showing her deadlifting 500 pounds and doing some freakish Turkish Getups. I close the Everyday Fitness website and Google Grace Gonzalez. Sure enough, she has a much larger online presence. I enter her personal website and read her biography.)

Me: Wow! You’re really Grace Gonzalez?

Cindi: Yes! That’s me. Cindi North is the name my adopted parents gave me. I never knew my biological parents but I always knew I had some Puerto Rican blood in me. I go by Grace Gonzalez to honor my heritage.

(According to her website, Grace “was born and raised in Los Angeles, California and has been currently living in the Pacific Northwest for the past two years.”)

Me: That’s so cool. I was a little concerned when I researched “Cindi North” and nothing came up. 🙂

Cindi: No problem. LOL

Cindi: If you didn’t look me up, I’d be worried.

Cindi: Do you like strong women?

(Goodness. She won’t let me respond fast enough.)

Me: I love strong women. I especially love muscular women like you.

Cindi: Have you ever met a woman as strong as me?

Me: No, ma’am. I’ve never met an FBB before.

Cindi: It looks like you’re interested. I’m looking for NSA sex, understand?

Me: Yes.

Cindi: I’m not looking for a relationship.

Me: I know.

Cindi: Are you looking for a relationship?

Me: I’m not looking for anything that’s beyond my reach.

(Pause)

Cindi: Smart answer. I like you already. You know your boundaries. I like that in a man.

(She likes that in a man? So she’s interested in men, huh? Her bio claims that she’s “Interested in: Women.” Is she a true lesbian or is she bisexual? Maybe she lies on her website in order to avoid horny muscle-loving men like me!)

Me: You use proper grammar and punctuation when chatting. I like that in a woman.

Cindi: LOL! You’re funny. Do you approve of “LOL?”

Me: Traditionally, no. But I’ll make an exception in your case.

(There is a very long pause. I feel a drip of sweat roll off my cheek.)

Cindi: Let’s meet at my house. I live in north Everett. Do you want to visit tonight?

(My heart stops. She wants to meet me at her house? TONIGHT??????)

Me: I’d love to.

Cindi: Great! Make sure to bring protection!

(I can supply condoms, no problem. Holy fuck. I almost never swear, but this merits an f-bomb. She really wants to meet me at her house right now?)

Cindi gives me her home address and I type it into Google Maps like a madman. She wishes me “good luck” and says I can come over as soon as possible. This shit is getting real, folks! She then leaves Gmail chat. I stare at the computer monitor in still silence.

So…I have her address, her real name, her fake name and that’s about it. I can spend time Googling “Grace Gonzalez,” but I don’t have time for that! I recognize her, so that should be enough to guarantee my safety. Now is the time for me to live out my dream.

I feel my penis harden as I think about having sex with her. Wow! I’m about to make love to an FBB! I want to shout this at the top of my lungs, but that would not go over well with the other people in my apartment building. I have better things to do than to cause a disturbance.

I grab my box of condoms, look in the mirror, inspect my appearance, put on my coat, grab my car keys and head out the door.