November 2016 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Female Muscle on Demand

I demand to touch the arms of Tonia Moore. May I?

It ain’t easy being a female muscle fan. But do we have it harder than fans of more “mainstream” interests? Maybe, maybe not.

Yes, sports fans have the offseason they need to endure for a few months every year before their favorite team plays meaningful games again.

Like tropical fruit? You can’t necessarily get great tasting pineapple or grapefruit year-round. Enjoy a perfectly cooked (i.e., rare) New York Strip steak? You can’t buy it too often or else the contents in your bank account will get too low. There’s nothing wrong with eating a scoop of ice cream before going to bed, but if you do it too often you might need to invest in new pants and belts. Not a good trade-off, if you ask me.

Being a fan of anything in life obviously has its drawbacks. The biggest one being you can’t always be satiated 24-hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. All good things must come in moderation. In fact, the best things in life should be enjoyed sparingly in order for the novelty to not wear off.

Yet, being a female muscle fan puts one in a whole other boat. What we love is especially rare (and I’m not talking about how you like your steak cooked). Muscular women comprise a remarkably small percentage of the world’s population. The number of muscular women who offer wrestling/worship sessions is even smaller. And the number of muscular women who offer sessions and are willing to travel to major cities across the world is smaller than that.

And, the people who are female muscle fans, live within close proximity of major metropolitan cities, and have disposable cash to pay for sessions are…you guessed it. Limited. Do you live in the countryside? Too bad. Do you live paycheck-to-paycheck and can’t afford $250 to $400 for an hour-long muscle worship appointment? Oh well.

Get the picture? It’s an issue of basic arithmetic. Wine aficionados can find reasonable quality vin at most grocery stores. Fans of classic movies can subscribe to channels that play Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford films seemingly on continuous loop. Even folks who are into kinkier stuff like BDSM can meet up with like-minded participants if they know how to do a basic Internet search.

But female muscle fans cannot experience their interests quite like the previously mentioned cohorts. Not by a long shot. Our tastes are more difficult to experience thanks to the simple principle of supply and demand. We have demands, but the supply is tragically short. Not inexistent, of course, but not readily available on the shelves like the newest iPhone or boxes of Wheaties.

I'd order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode. — I’d order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode.

At times like this, it makes one fantasize about having an app on your phone that delivers “female muscle on demand” much like how you can order a pizza, hail an Uber driver, or watch reruns of Game of Thrones on your big screen television. How would this hypothetical app work? Well, let’s put on our thinking caps for a moment and find out.

Let’s say you’re alone by yourself at home. Your significant other is away or your roommate is out painting the town red (whatever that means). You’re bored watching YouTube videos of animals doing tricks. You’ve run out of beer. It’s raining outside, so taking a leisurely walk is out of the question. The gym is about to close and the nearest bar just recently jacked up their prices on liquor. What are you to do with yourself?

You’re feeling “randy” but have no partner to help you relieve your pent-up tension. You can watch porn but that’s dull and mundane. Besides, most of it is complete garbage anyway. You’re secretly a fan of female bodybuilders, though. You love the feel of their rock hard muscles. You love playfully wrestling them and submitting to their superior strength. You want to touch their bodies and allow them to touch yours. You’re in a sensual mood and the only prescription is a big strong beautiful woman who’s ready to rock and roll. What do you do now?

Easy! You open the “Female Muscle on Demand” app on your smartphone and simply let its magic sweep you off your feet.

So, how would this app work? There are several possibilities:

One is for you to magically summon any female bodybuilder in the world to appear in the flesh (we’re going to ignore fundamental scientific laws here, in case you haven’t noticed) right before your eyes for only an hour or two. Do you want to hang out with Amber DeLuca? Simple! Just swipe the app (or tap the app, or however the darn thing works) and voila! Miss DeLuca will materialize out of thin air and you’ll be feeling her gorgeous pecs in no time.

Sucking on Angela Salvagno's gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me. — Sucking on Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me.

Could you ask for multiple real-life female bodybuilders to join your company? I suppose, but that’s still in the beta testing stage. Or maybe you can do that. Perhaps there’s a limit of ten FBBs per usage. Or fifteen. Or twenty. Or more than that. Who knows? Just make sure you have enough room in your cramped apartment to accommodate all these beautiful ladies.

So maybe you can ask Amber, Denise Masino, Lindsay Mulinazzi, Isabelle Turell, Brandi Mae Akers, and Lisa Cross to collectively join you for one hell of a sexy evening. Wow, that would be something else! I would download that app faster than a kid opening his presents on Christmas morning.

What would you do with these ladies in your living space? Well, I’m pretty sure you can adequately fill in the blank yourself. You can invite Deidre Pagnanelli over and treat her to a romantic candle-lit dinner of steak and lobster paired with a delectable bottle of fine wine. Or you can conjure up Victoria Dominguez and ask her to be your “mistress” for the evening who will act out every single naughty fantasy in your dirty little mind. Or you can summon Angela Salvagno and spend a few hours doing nothing but sucking on her big juicy clit. Or you could have all three over and engage in a full-out female muscle orgy where nothing is off the table. After all, it’s your app.

Oh boy. Yup, the scenarios you can come up with are sure endless!

Another possibility is for you to create a muscular woman from scratch. This option could be better than the first one – although that one is pretty damn incredible – because it really allows you to fulfill your fantasies to the max. You can choose from a long list of physical and personal characteristics and manufacture your own personal FBB who will be unique to your tastes.

Imagine that it’s like one of those mix and match monster flip books you used to peruse through when you were a little kid. You can assemble a beast with a centipede-like lower body with an orangutan midsection and the head of a serpent-goat. Or, the head of a tyrannosaurus rex with the midsection of a great white whale and the legs of a praying mantis. Whatever floats your boat. Remember being fascinated with those books growing up?

Wind the clock to the present day and imagine being able to do that with human flesh and bone. You can, with the tap of a few buttons, construct your very own female bodybuilder playmate to spend the evening with whenever you feel like it. Just open the app, find a spot with good Wi-Fi reception, and generate a woman with:

Biceps like Isabelle Turell
A chest like Theresa Ivancik
Abs like Cindy Landolt
A back like Jay Fuchs
Shoulders like Rene Campbell
A torso like Amber DeLuca
Glutes like Alina Popa
Legs like Tina Lockwood (back when she was in her peak condition, of course!)
Calves like Brenda Smith
A clit like Denise Masino
Labia like Angela Salvagno
A face like Deidre Pagnanelli
Sexy red hair like Lindsay Mulinazzi
Height like Maria Wattel (6 foot 2 inches)
A sultry deep voice like Kathy Connors
Intelligence and personality like Julie Germaine
“Bad girl” attitude like Brandi Mae Akers

Ooh. What a playmate she would be! Of course, the combinations are endless and everyone’s personal preferences will differ. And it may be more practical for the “Female Muscle on Demand” app to have a desktop version as well if we’re going to get this specific. Perhaps every user can have their favorite features “saved” so that the Female Muscle Aggregator (we’ll call this a sub-feature within the app itself) remembers what you like.

Just so we’re not being sexist, and in the spirit of accommodating as many genders and preferences as possible, there could also be a “Male Muscle on Demand” counterpart that ladies (and men who like men) can also utilize. Or maybe this is all consolidated in one app known as “Muscles on Demand.” Whatever works, I suppose.

Another option that users have is to customize which race/ethnicity you happen to prefer. Like Caucasian muscle? Ebony muscle? Asian muscle? Latina muscle? Middle Eastern muscle? Or a combination of a few of these? Well, I wouldn’t be against our hypothetical users having this option when navigating through our miraculous digital sexual fetish service.

Jay Fuch's sexy back? Yes, please! — Jay Fuch’s sexy back? Yes, please!

Well, well, well. This would certainly make being a female muscle fan much more fun. Come to think of it, this would go over well with people of every fetishistic color and stripe. Your “Muscles on Demand” creation could wear sexy frilly underwear, a kinky BDSM outfit (with the expected ensemble of handcuffs, whips, and chains), a revealing beach bikini, a Catholic school girl’s outfit (I won’t judge if that’s your cup of tea), a classy white slip, or a sensual black negligee. Maybe this is where users can actually suggest and design outfits that fulfill their deepest and darkest erotic fantasies. User-generated content is the wave of the future, is it not?

It sure is. So is the ability to customize whatever you damn please right up to the most minute detail. If you want your Muscle Fantasy to have big brawny arms, you can customize her biceps to be 18 inches in circumference…or 14 inches if you don’t want her to be that muscular. Or 20 inches if you don’t care about realism. Yikes. That could potentially get out of hand real quick. Once you go down this road, you could technically create a Dream Muscle Woman who defies scientific limitations and really gets your juices flowing (interpret that as you will).

But, what would the experience actually be like once your Muscle Fantasy is right before your eyes? Well, obviously it would be awesome for this person to look, feel, and sound like a real person.

Unlike virtual reality, the experience of meeting your Muscle on Demand playmate will be just like actual reality, not similar to existing inside a vast three-dimensional video game. So basically, it’s like a genuine muscle worship/wrestling session except you don’t need to travel, shell out $350 or wait around for a premiere FBB to come to your area.

Thus, one moment I could be sitting on my couch watching a soccer game I don’t care about and the next I could be feeling up Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous naked body. My head is jammed between her strong legs, sucking on her beautiful big clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. After she’s had enough climaxes, she returns the favor by flexing her enormous muscles until I am able to touch every single inch of her. Then, we make sweet love until we come together one final time. I empty myself into her, we kiss, we chat for a few moments, and she disappears until I choose to summon her again.

All this time, the real Angela Salvagno is peacefully enjoying her own life wherever she happens to be, totally unaware of what I just experienced with her avatar. So what happens between me and her digital self is nobody’s business except for…mine. She’s completely oblivious of my evening spent with “her,” as is the rest of the world. Because the version of Angela Salvagno I just made love to doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a realistic avatar conjured from my trusty app.

Ah, yes. How I wish this could come to pass! Alas, such a thing is not physically possible. Perhaps this is a product of my longing for something that’s not easily attainable. Or maybe a sign of the times; that we live in an age where what we want must be available to us immediately or else. I consider myself a patient person, but female muscle is so irresistible how can it not drive you crazy knowing you have to wait five to six months and spend a whole week’s worth of wages to be able to get your fix? I’m not a “female muscle junkie” by any stretch of the imagination, but what you desire is what you desire for a reason.

Why must beautiful women like Julie Germaine be so scarce?

Muscular women are sure scarce. However, as short in supply as they may be, they are available if you have the time, resources, and proximity necessary to meet them one-on-one. Then again, maybe this is part of their charm. Maybe the agonizing wait times and the steep price of admission are partly to explain why I find FBBs so alluring. I often wonder what it would be like if more “everyday women” were as muscular as competitive bodybuilders (or in this particular case, what it would be like for female muscle to be accessible to me on demand). Can you imagine how splendid it would be if you took the bus to work and 30-40 percent of the women riding with you had arms as big as Yaxeni Oriquen-Garcia? Whoa! Talk about living in a surreal parallel universe.

But, I am not so naïve to believe that my love for muscular women would not change one iota. Maybe the scarcity of big buff women is one of the chief reasons why I love them so darn much. If they were as common as 30-something hipster women in Seattle wearing Uggs and gray wool hats, I probably wouldn’t care as much if I saw one up close. Hm. Is that really true?

Maybe it is true. Or not. Either way, there are benefits to certain things in life being readily available “on demand” or “pretty damn close to on demand.” Clean water would be one example. Electricity would be another. On the other hand, as difficult as this may be to comprehend, certain things in life are better when they’re experienced infrequently.

The eager anticipation, butterflies in the stomach, ache of seeing your bank account slightly diminish, fluttering heartrate, joyous times of the experience itself, and the warm fuzzy memories you have of your time together are all part of the packaged deal. If these things happen too often I can see how they could lose their magic touch.

So for now, Female Muscle on Demand only exists in the wild recesses of my imagination. I can wager a guess that it also exists in the minds of many of my dear readers – or at least it does now. There may come a time when virtual reality becomes so technologically advanced that it can seamlessly mimic real life, but we are not quite there yet. I have no doubts that we may one day reach that pinnacle, but that day is not today. Many hurdles must be jumped over first before we can even begin to have that conversation. But that shouldn’t stop us from pondering those delicious “what if” questions.

What if <insert fantasy of your choice> were possible? Oh my goodness, the possibilities are endless, aren’t they?

Bridgette – Midnight Rendezvous (part five)

Sipping on a cold vanilla latte, it’s been two hours since Sean left the party. He found a late night coffee stop several blocks away from the Convention Center and decided to stop in for a caffeine injection.

His vanilla latte tastes okay, but he wasn’t looking for taste. He was looking for a place to sit around until he can be reunited with Beautiful Bridgette. Their previous coupling didn’t drain the energy out of his system. On the contrary, it filled him with more passion than ever before. He craved to be with her again. Her musky smell. The feel of her taut skin. Her gorgeous face. Her rock hard muscles. He needed every inch of her. He felt like he could scream with frustration at not being able to be with her at this moment.

How is this possible? Is be becoming obsessed with her? Sean considers himself to be a reasonable man. He knows obsession can lead someone down a dangerous path. He has no desire to become someone like that; someone who lets their uncontrollable lust overpower them. Sean would like to think he’s more level-headed than that.

He quickly glances at his phone. It says it’s 11:40 p.m. His battery is at 28 percent, just enough to last him for the rest of the night. He figures it will become dead at 2 a.m. or so. All he needs is to receive that magical text from her. That would make him the happiest man in the world.

Minutes pass. Sean finally finishes his bland latte. He tosses the paper cup into a nearby recycling bin. The grumpy old barista who’s working the graveyard shift smirks at Sean’s demonstration of environmental stewardship. Sean gives an obligatory smirk back. He decides to shift his attention away from Mr. Tattooed Barista and stares at the late night traffic. It’s surprisingly busy considering it’s nearly midnight. It must be attendees of the bodybuilding competition going home for the night. That must be it.

His phone then buzzes. His heart stops momentarily. He checks his phone. It’s a text. From Bridgette! It reads:

Hi darling! It’s me! I’m finally back in my room. You know which hotel. I’m in room 1245. Come on up! Can’t wait…lol

She’s right. He does know exactly which hotel she’s staying at. Sean doesn’t hesitate for a moment and skips out of the coffee shop to head toward his next destination. Her hotel room. He doesn’t quite know what to expect, but he’s certain he’ll treasure it for the rest of his life. The human mind has a funny way of remembering key moments. Sometimes, it’s the anticipation of a momentous event you remember more than the actual event itself. Perhaps this is one of those instances. Or not.

Moments later, Sean is strolling into a quiet hotel lobby. He seeks out the elevators as inconspicuously as possible. He eyes a row of metal doors and speed walks to it. He pushes “up” and waits. The doors open. He allows a flood of drunken tourists to pour out. As loud and obnoxious as college kids on spring break, he’s glad to walk inside and have the elevator all to himself. He pushes “12” and watches the doors close in front of him. He arrives on the 12^th floor faster than he’d expected. Whoa! These elevators travel up really damn fast. Sean is genuinely impressed.

Sean gets lost for a bit, but eventually finds room #1245. Butterflies are swarming inside his stomach. He can’t figure out why. Why is he still as nervous as a schoolboy to see her? It’s not like Bridgette is a total stranger. He knows her! But for whatever incomprehensible reason, he still feels anxious to meet her. It must be this unbreakable spell she’s cast over him. It’s forcing him to act irrationally. He knocks on the door. The door quickly opens.

“Hello. Good evening. Come on in,” Bridgette greets him. Dressed in sweatpants and an old workout undershirt, Bridgette looks as though she’s just showered. Wearing no makeup and none of the elegance she exhibited earlier in the evening, Bridgette still remains as beautiful as ever. She’s dazzling to behold. Her white undershirt generously shows off her muscles. Sean sees a travel-friendly pull up bar set up on the far side of the room.

“I’ve been doing pull ups for the past 20 minutes before you got here. Today is back day for me, but I haven’t had time to get to a gym because of all the bullshit I had to get done earlier,” Bridgette says. Sean notices the sweat dripping down her flawless face. He removes his shoes, jacket and places his phone, wallet and keys on top of a maple wood credenza. Bridgette leaps up, grabs the pull up bar, and astonishingly busts out 15 repetitions before plopping down back on her feet. Sean feels a tingling sensation dance through his system.

“How on earth can you do that?” Sean’s legs quiver underneath him. He isn’t sure if he’ll be able to stand up straight for much longer.

“Practice makes perfect, right?” Bridgette grabs a white towel off the credenza and wipes a drip of sweat off her brow. She looks at Sean and knows she has him in her grip. Not one who frequently enjoys wielding power over people, Bridgette occasionally does get an adrenaline rush from maximizing her sexuality to her advantage. Throughout her adult life Bridgette has realized, not in a narcissistic way, her looks give her power over men (and women). She’s tried to remain humble, but that power can be intoxicating at times. She agrees that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

“Practice? More like hard work. You look incredible, Bridgette. But you already know that.”

“Please. I just got out of the shower. My hair is dripping wet and I haven’t an ounce of makeup on. I probably look like a disaster.” She leans in and kisses Sean. She catches him mid-breath, causing him to gasp. When their lips part, he places his hands on her curvy hips and strokes up and down.

“Stop it, Bridgette honey. You don’t look anything like a disaster. You look so…” She places her index finger against his lips. He hushes up. Bridgette suggestively sticks her finger inside Sean’s mouth and he obediently sucks on it.

“I’m kidding. Do you like how that tastes? What do I taste like?” She removes her finger from his mouth. He comes to her and nibbles on her earlobe.

“Sweet as honey.”

“I like that analogy.” Bridgette sits down on the bed and takes a drink of water from her water bottle. Sean plops himself down on a nearby chair. They say nothing for several moments.

“You don’t like crowds all that much, do you?” she inquires.

“I don’t. I’m not claustrophobic or anything. There’s something about big crowds that make me nervous. I feel like I don’t matter, that I’m just an ant marching up a hill along with millions of other ants. I cease to be an individual. Am I crazy for feeling that way?”

“No, not at all. I think I know what you mean.” Police sirens roar by. Bridgette takes another swig of her water.

“But you’re not in that situation. You were the center of attention. All eyes were on you, my dear.”

Bridgette spreads out across the bed and smothers her face into a pillow. “Yeah, which gets exhausting as hell. I love the spotlight, but not quite like that. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” Sean jumps out of his chair and lands on top of Bridgette. He kisses her on the neck and caresses her massive quads. She strokes his hair.

“You mean you couldn’t wait to go outside with me and do it in front of all those people!” Sean gets bold and reaches into her panties and strokes her clit. It’s already engorged and moist. Bridgette not only allows him to do this, she gasps in response.

“Oh God! You’re getting frisky, Sean!” Pulling his fingers away from her cleft, Sean kisses her lips and lifts her dirty workout shirt off her and tosses it across the room.

“I was sure frisky with you on that balcony.”

“You sure were, dirty boy. I still can’t believe we did it out in public like that. What the fuck were we thinking?” Not to be outdone, Bridgette cups his balls and feels Sean’s erection. She begins to unzip his pants as he pinches her taut nipples.

“We weren’t thinking. That’s the point. We just did what we felt like.” Sean kicks off his pants and rips off his underwear. Bridgette pinches the base of his erection as Sean removes his shirt. Now completely nude, he seeks to make sure she becomes the same way.

“Are we doing the same thing?” Bridgette asks.

“Yes, except with a little bit more privacy,” he says. “Check that. A lot more privacy.”

“Indeed!”

Bridgette slips out of her sweatpants and removes her panties. She lobs them at Sean’s face and he smells it deeply, taking in her feminine musk. Sweet perfume, as far as he’s concerned. She playfully shoves Sean onto the bed and poses for him. Double biceps. Front lat spread. Side chest. Side triceps. Abdominal and thigh. He can clearly see every muscle fiber on her immaculate figure. She sure knows how to entertain a crowd!

“Flawless, dear Bridgette. Absolutely flawless. You are a spectacle to behold.” Sean feels his erection poke his bellybutton. That’s usually a sign he’s aroused far beyond normal. Bridgette definitely knows how to drive a man crazy.

“You haven’t seen a spectacle yet,” Bridgette warns. She sashays toward the light switch and turns it down to 25 percent. The room dims to a romantic dark orange glow. Bridgette then walks to the curtains and opens them wide, letting the bright moonlight flood the darkness. Sean makes his way toward her.

“What else do you have in mind?”

She turns around to face him.

“Let me show you.”

Bridgette swoops in and lifts Sean onto her shoulders. She playfully tosses him onto the bed and lets out an animalistic roar, loud enough for the entire floor of guests to hear. He laughs at her silliness, but quickly discovers she isn’t messing around. Bridgette jumps on the bed and mounts him. Wrapping her strong legs around his torso, she strokes his penis up and down and never breaks eye contact with him. Sean holds his breath in hopes of delaying his gratification. Like a hungry lion stalking its prey, Bridgette squats down onto Sean’s penis, allowing him to penetrate her. They share a collective moan at the moment of their intimate joining.

Unapologetic and as violent as he’s ever seen her, Bridgette rides him with a level of ferociousness that borders on maniacal. He knows he’s going to come faster than he’d like. Bridgette also senses her impending orgasm, and lowers herself to kiss him in hopes of postponing both of their climaxes for as long as possible.

Their lips meet. He bites her lower lip. She feels pain, but enjoys it. She returns the favor and bites his tongue. Sean tastes her sticky saliva but doesn’t mind it at all. They kiss once more before Bridgette’s final thrust fiercely pushes them both over the edge.

Sean groans as he empties himself into her. Bridgette also climaxes as her pelvic movements slow down methodically. He feels her vaginal walls contract powerfully around him. Bridgette, completely sapped of energy, collapses on top of him. They kiss again, this time deeper than before. She giggles. He exhales with satisfaction. Their first coupling of the evening comes to a glorious end.

A comfortable bed to sleep in...and do other things. — A comfortable bed to sleep in…and do other things.

Bridgette couldn’t remember if she drifted off to sleep, but she finally opens her eyes and looks at the bedside clock. It reads 1:45 a.m. She listens closely to Sean and decides he is quietly snoring. His snoring stops as he too awakens.

“I love you, Bridgette.”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken to me before,” she says.

The lovers fall asleep together again.

Two hours later, Sean wakes up to the sound of Bridgette flushing the toilet. He looks at the clock and notices it’s almost a quarter to 4. The night is still dark, perhaps at its darkest. There is enough moonlight to allow him to fully regard her striking beauty.

“God, you are amazing. A true goddess.” Sean sits up in the bed and stretches his arms. Still naked, Bridgette falls to the floor and does 50 pushups. Watching her exercise makes Sean’s heart skip a beat. His erection returns, much to his gratefulness.

“I’m just doing pushups, not summoning a storm or shooting lightning out of my fingers.” Bridgette sits up on the floor and mimics firing electrical bolts out of her hands. Sean pretends to get shocked and falls down on the floor next to her.

“You’ve got me, Goddess. I shouldn’t have displeased you!”

Sean feels the soft rug underneath his skin. “Wow. This is so damn soft. I could sleep down here if I have to.”

“You should. I don’t know where the hotel got it, but I definitely want to steal it.” Bridgette touches the rug with her bare skin and lets out a subtle sigh. She didn’t grow up from a wealthy family, so staying at these hotels is the closest she gets to experiencing the life of luxury. As a pro bodybuilder and part-time pornographic actress, she barely gets by paying her bills month to month. Sean doesn’t have that problem, but he sympathizes with her.

“Do it. I won’t tell anybody.” Sean licks the back of Bridgette’s neck and caresses her firm butt. She rolls to her side and flexes her left arm. Sean kisses her bicep peak. His erection pokes Bridgette in her belly, the tip of his penis bouncing off her six-pack abdomen. He inhales to keep control. Bridgette twists her body toward him and wraps her strong legs around his torso. She playfully squeezes, stealing his breath. Sean attempts to push her bowling ball calves out of the way but fails to counter her impressive strength.

“You’re not getting away that easily, I can tell you that!” Bridgette smiles. Sean can only smile back.

“I have no intention of going anywhere darling,” he says.

She mercifully releases him and spreads her legs out wide. Sean lays a trail of kisses that start at her feet – Sean isn’t a “feet” kind of guy, but he’s willing to change his mind! – and ends at her inner thigh. Sean still cannot believe how incredibly thick her quads are. He bets she could crush a watermelon between her legs if she wanted to. Odds are she’s done feats of strength like that before.

“Well, if you don’t plan on going anywhere, you might as well please me until I beg you to stop.” Bridgette’s innocent smile turns to a devilish grin. Sean knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Angela Salvagno being her usual sexy self.

Sean levels himself and places his fingers between Bridgette’s engorged clitoris. She lets out a modest moan in response to his touch. He dips down and places his entire mouth over her pubis region, his tongue meeting the ultrasensitive tip of her large feminine endowment. Sean purses his lips around her clit and strokes her as his tongue laps the head. He can sense her squirming uncontrollably. Her eyes are closed. She’s doing nothing but enjoying the gratifying sensations running through her entire body.

Bridgette can feel heat rising out of every pore. She doesn’t just feel pleasure; she feels an intense love for a man whom she met randomly on a street corner in the suburbs as part of her job. Memories of their first encounter and riding with him to the luxury condo where they filmed their love scene come flooding back like a tsunami. She’s about to come but her physical experience is the last thing that’s on her mind.

Sean intensifies his oral motions as he notices her writhing more. An audible gasp escapes from her lips just moments before she hits her satisfying climax. Wanting her to enjoy this moment like nothing else before, Sean jabs his tongue inside her throbbing vagina right before jerking her clit off with his fingers. Her meaty labia are slick with moisture. Bridgette raises her pelvis in anticipation of her climax.

Finally, she comes and her entire body shudders. She even releases an involuntary fart as her vaginal walls contract. Sean tries to suppress a giggle but cannot help himself. Minutes later, still basking in the glow of a satisfying orgasm, Bridgette sits up and kisses Sean’s lips – the same lips that gave her immeasurable pleasure just a few moments ago.

“Thank you lover.”

That’s all she can say. Sean doesn’t need her to say anything else.

Instead, Bridgette responds with actions instead of words. She picks up Sean like a rag doll and plops him onto the bed. Then she proceeds to put her mouth over his entire penis. She gently strokes his scrotum as she covers his entire manhood with her warm saliva. Sean looks up at the ceiling and tries to take it all in. He peers out the window and sees the full moon staring back at him. Like a werewolf eating its prey, Bridgette consumes his erection with reckless abandon.

As she laps her tongue around his sensitive endowment, Sean groans loudly. That’s the cue she needs to know he’s close. One last squeeze of his testicles does the trick, as she feels Sean’s penis contract up and down. His hot semen shoots into her mouth. Without being prompted, she generously swallows it all. Even more generously, she cleans up his deflating penis with her tongue and a tissue she finds on the credenza. She throws the smelly tissue into a trashcan. Bridgette doesn’t normally like the taste of semen, but as far as she’s concerned Sean’s juices taste like sweet dessert to cap off a romantic evening.

The time is now 4:18 a.m. Totally and utterly spent, Sean and Bridgette fall asleep into each other’s arms without a damn care in the world.

Karen Zaremba: My Sentimental Favorite

Hand bras are the worst!

Every female muscle fan has “the one” who truly made them see the light. It’s not necessarily the first muscular woman they ever saw or the one they would consider to be their favorite. Personally, the first FBB I ever noticed was Lisa Marie Bickels, a former U.S. Marine who caught my attention more than ten years ago during my college years.

My current favorite is Denise Masino, a devilishly sexy siren with an endowment between her legs that can only be described as scrumptious. Miss Bickels isn’t close to being a favorite of mine and Miss Masino is someone I discovered later on. Thus, the subject of the woman who played a crucial role in my “female muscle awakening” is none other than Karen Zaremba.

Karen Zaremba was born on January 27, 1964 in Detroit, Michigan. Back then, Detroit was deserving of its nickname of The Motor City and the breeding ground of some of the most recognizable names in American pop music (Motown, anyone?). Today, Detroit resembles a Third World country, but that’s another story for another day. On that fateful day in the heartland of America, the world was introduced to a gorgeous young lass who would one day grow up to become one of the sexiest female bodybuilders the Universe has ever known.

Today, Karen resides in Clinton Township, which is less than 30 miles north of her birth town. So Karen didn’t scurry too far from the crib, as it were. I suppose there’s no reason why one should move far away from home unless there were extenuating circumstances. If you like where you live, why not stay there? Karen and her family obviously feel this way.

Like many beautiful female bodybuilders, Karen is the mother of two children and is happily married. Evidently, she never had any problem balancing her work/home life with her chosen profession of being a competitive bodybuilder and fitness model. Standing at a modest 5”2” and weighing 124 pounds (give or take), she describes herself as a “stay-at-home Mom” when she isn’t working in the fitness industry. Of course, many of the interviews that I’ve used to curate this information are several years old, so take this with a grain of salt.

Love those abs!

From what I can gather, Karen no longer competes and probably doesn’t participate in bodybuilding anymore. Like many FBBs, details about their personal lives are scant, making it a challenge to paint a complete picture of what she’s like. I am confident that whatever she’s doing now, she’s probably happy with her life and wouldn’t want things to be any other way.

Her contest history is as follows:

2007 – Europa Super Show: 8^th place, Lightweight

2006 – IFBB Motor City Pro Figure: 16^th place

2006 – IFBB Pittsburgh Pro Figure: 16^th place

2005 – NPC National Figure Championships: 2^nd place, Class A (earned her IFBB pro card)

2005 – Junior Nationals: 3^rd place, Class A

2005 – Junior USA: 3^rd place, Class A

2004 – Central States Figure championships: Short Class, Masters and Overall Winner

2003 – Michigan Novice Bodybuilding championships: Lightweight, Masters and Overall Winner

Of course, this might not reflect her full contest history, but my quick bit of Internet research reveals that this is pretty comprehensive. If you know of any further contests that Karen has participated in, please do not hesitate to let me know in the comments below.

As one can clearly see, her contest history isn’t remarkable or noteworthy. Pretty standard for someone who loves to compete but isn’t too committed to becoming an elite competitor. This is not meant to be a slight against her. This is just to say that when she was a competitive bodybuilder, she wasn’t someone you would have associated as being the best of the best.

Poetry in motion.

She came, she saw, she…participated. Her accomplishments are as modest as her objectives. She didn’t aim to be better than everybody else; she just wanted to see what she could do. Many competitors (both male and female) are not necessarily “in it to win it.” Many are in it for no other reason than to have fun, challenge one’s self, and meet new people while trying new things.

That’s an attitude we need to see more in our world.

But that’s not why she’s a sentimental favorite of mine. I discovered Karen in 2005 or 2006, so in other words a solid decade ago. Back then, I would have been 18 or 19 and Karen would’ve been 41 or 42. Think it’s unusual for a boy in his late teens to completely fall in love with a woman who’s more than twice his age? A woman who is nearly old enough to be his own mother? I certainly thought so at the time, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong or abnormal about it.

Why was there nothing unusual about this? Well, have you taken a good look at her?

Yowza!

Karen is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She has an authentic look to her that’s difficult to explain but easy to see. Her dark hair is beautifully complemented by her olive complexion, a skin tone that perfectly accentuates her muscles. She’s legendary for her six-pack abdomen, which she is not shy about showing off to the camera. I briefly went through a stage of having a six-pack fetish. Can you possibly guess why?

Facially, she doesn’t look like a cookie-cutter Playboy Playmate or a nameless fashion model you see plastered across shopping mall corridors. It’s too clichéd to say she looks like the “girl next door” or the “hot mom next door,” but it’s sort of true!

What initially struck me about Karen, and it still strikes me today, is how effortlessly sexy she is. When she walks, her hips poetically bounce in a way that can make your heart stop. She’s very feminine, so much so you forget that all those negative stereotypes about female bodybuilders even exist. Of course, she’s a mother – which allows her to be called a certain idiotic acronym that I refuse to mention on this blog. Personally, I find muscle moms appealing, but there are certain misogynistic levels I refuse to lower myself to.

Baby got back!

Perhaps that’s at the root of my attraction to Karen Zaremba. She’s a muscular woman who transcends the “muscle chick” fetish. She isn’t just “beautiful for a female bodybuilder,” she’s “beautiful…period, end of story.” Karen forced me to view muscular women through a different lens. No longer were all FBBs big, oversized masculinized “women” who’ve vehemently rejected traditional femininity and womanhood. I may not have felt exactly that way toward FBBs at the time, but my worldview was limited during those years. Karen encouraged me to expand my horizons.

Then, the floodgates opened. I discovered Annie Rivieccio. Then Lisa Cross. Then Alina Popa, followed by Yvette Bova and Denise Masino and Deidre Pagnanelli. I found out about Michelle Maroldo and Denise Hoshor. And Brandi Mae Akers. Of course, Victoria Dominguez. And other women like Nikki Fuller, Debi Laszewski, Sondra Faas, Marina Lopez, Catherine Holland, Emery Miller, Gayle Moher, Lauren Powers, Shawn Tan, Julie Germaine, and newcomers like Shannon Courtney, Minna Pajulahti, Dani Reardon, and Sheronica Sade Henton. There are many more to name. We could go on for hours. I’m still discovering new beautiful ladies seemingly every single day.

But I never forgot my roots, as the saying goes. Karen Zaremba remains on the front of my mind and tucked away snuggly in my heart. She isn’t just one of my first discoveries…she remains one of the best and brightest. I have the feeling I’m going to feel the same way regardless of how many additional tens of thousands of muscular women I’m introduced to in the future.

But let’s return to Karen’s effortless sexiness. It cannot be understated. Karen doesn’t walk; she glides. She doesn’t smile; she glows. She doesn’t pose; she radiates. She doesn’t flex; she blossoms. She doesn’t impress; she transcends. She doesn’t compete as a bodybuilder; she elevates the ceiling of human potential. She isn’t just beautiful; she’s ethereal and magnanimous. Karen Zaremba exceeds your expectations yet doesn’t seem to be trying to do anything other than being herself.

That takes more than talent. That takes a flawless combination of natural gifts, determination, hard work, and instincts. No one can teach you how to be as angelic as Karen. Nor could she necessarily teach others the ropes. Some of us are more radiant and charismatic than others for reasons that cannot be rationally explained or easily transferrable.

Karen’s skin tone is the best.

Perhaps part of her appeal is her laidback Midwestern demeanor. Karen doesn’t boast the flashiness of an entitled California-bred pseudo-celebrity. Nor is she a snooty East Coaster who treats bodybuilding as her ticket to Broadway-style stardom. I am, of course, exaggerating and wildly stereotyping millions of people in the United States (which is trendy in the year 2016), but what cannot be denied is the refreshing authenticity that Karen brings to the table.

She doesn’t post selfies every single day on Instagram. In fact, I don’t think Miss Zaremba even has an Instagram account. When you research her, you don’t actually find a whole lot. This adds to her mystique. Because thousands of photos and hundreds of hours of video footage of Karen don’t exist, we can only witness a small slice of who she is. This allows us to fill in the blanks wherever we see fit.

So I can speculate that she’s modest, down-to-earth, and full of “small town charm” because…well, I feel like it. Is this based on extensive knowledge of her personality, lifestyle, and background? Nope! Our idealized version of people is what fuels our love for celebrities.

Karen Zaremba may not be a traditional celebrity, but in my heart she’s a glamorous superstar.

She comes across as a super chill lady who will just as likely bake you a batch of gingerbread cookies as she is to rapidly do 25 pullups as if it were no big deal. She’s a mom and she loves being a mom. She once was a muscular woman who also doesn’t mind being a loving wife and someone who would enthusiastically serve on her local PTA board. Once again, this is based on nothing but what exists in my imagination. But doesn’t this seem plausible?

For her, bodybuilding isn’t her life’s calling or integral to her business model. Doesn’t it seem like for Karen being a bodybuilder was a “neat” thing to do? She wasn’t in it for the money, the glitz, or the fame. She didn’t “brand” herself as a bad girl or a sexy muscle siren or feminist superhero. She just let herself be herself. She’s a mom, a wife, and a friendly neighbor who thinks having big muscles would be nifty. You rarely see that level of unpretentiousness in today’s narcissistic culture.

In other words, Karen never wanted to be a celebrity – even among the small subculture of female muscle fans. Having big muscles wasn’t her way of feeding her ego. It was her way of experiencing self-empowerment. All she wanted to be was the best version of herself. For me, that’s all I need.

Karen left just enough to the imagination…yet revealed enough to let us know what she got. Such a tease!

Just as any baseball or football player must eventually call it a career and “hang up the cleats,” Karen has now decided to forgo her muscles and become “normal-looking” again. I have no doubt that Karen still exercises to keep herself fit and trim, but from what I can gather (and she prefers to keep her personal life private, which is her right) she’s allowed her muscles to shrink. She’s now a former bodybuilder. She’s now a regular lady you see shopping for groceries at the supermarket on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. This isn’t disappointing or regrettable. She can do whatever she wants with her life.

But there is undeniably a small element of sadness at play here. It is a bit melancholy when a gorgeous FBB retires and relinquishes her muscularity. As a sports fan, you never want to see your favorite players withdraw from playing the game they love and ride off into the sunset back to civilian life. But time marches on and not everything lasts forever. There will be plenty of young up-and-coming Karen Zarembas who will take up her mantle. Heck, I’ve referenced many of them on this very blog.

So this is a celebration of a woman who leaves a legacy of making the world a more beautiful place, whether she has big muscles or not. Because of her, we now have stronger faith in the goodness of people and the potential of human achievement. Karen Zaremba never has to “prove” that she is gorgeous. She just is. She never hogs the spotlight and demands that people look at her. We look at her because we cannot help but look at her. That takes something special.

As an 18-year-old kid Karen made my heart leap out of my chest. She was more than twice my age and rarely ever did any nude modeling. She never did anything pornographic or overly sexual. She kept it classy. She kept things modest. You’ll never find a video of her sucking a porn star’s penis or masturbating with an oversized dildo. She never had to do any of those things to capture my attention, even all these years later.

She just had to be herself. And that was enough. And it still is.

Perhaps We Should Vote for a Female Bodybuilder for President

I'd vote Tina Jo Orban as "Best Legs" if such a category were to exist. — I’d vote Tina Jo Orban as “Best Legs” if such a category were to exist.

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock for the past two years, or if you live outside of the United States and you don’t particularly care what happens in this country, most of you should be aware that very soon we will be bringing this God-awful presidential election to a merciful end and will choose who our next Commander-in-Chief will be.

I refuse to even name the two candidates who are running for my nation’s highest public office on the grounds that both of them have received enough attention from people like you and I. So perhaps this post will remain relevant four, eight, or twelve years from now. Who knows?

If this excruciating and painful election cycle has taught us anything – and it has indeed taught us many valuable lessons about the state of my nation and politics in general – it’s that qualifications for the job don’t matter to the typical voter when it comes to selecting the next U.S. President. So, in an effort to not get too political and keep matters civil, I will lay out a tongue-in-cheek argument for why Americans (and people from other countries who are blessed to live in a representational democracy, or at least a country that practices such style of governance in theory) should decide to vote for a female bodybuilder for president on Tuesday, November 8, 2016.

I will admit that I am embarrassed as a U.S. citizen to subject the world to watching our political theater play out in all its horrifying glory. Let’s hope 2016 is just one of those “weird” years that we look back upon decades later and proudly declare that we were fortunate enough to have lived through it (for the most part) unscathed. After all, we could do worse. And odds are we will actually end up doing worse sooner or later.

But I digress. I am no political commentator, but in my opinion the most significant reason why U.S. politics sucks right now is because we expect our politicians to deliver on promises that were unrealistic to begin with…which then breeds contempt, more unrealistic expectations, and more extreme candidates who can only get elected if they continue to up-the-ante and foster a whole new set of stupid promises. This means personality tends to matter more than qualifications or knowledge about the job, which explains an awful lot.

However, a female bodybuilder lives in a completely different world than politicians – but can offer said politicians a lot of life lessons that could go a long way in generating better public policies.

Think about the world a female bodybuilder inhabits. She’s working in an industry that persistently is trying to weed her out of it. The Ms. Olympia is dead and buried and doesn’t appear to be coming back any time soon. Other competitions may rise out of the ashes and attempt to take its place, but that doesn’t change the fact that the IFBB isn’t too keen on allowing hypermuscular competitors to be the “face” of the female side of the sport. They’d rather more “audience friendly” fitness and bikini competitors take center stage over the bigger and buffer ladies who’ve worked harder to achieve their physiques.

So, right off the bat a female bodybuilder has to endure working in a profession where the chances of cultivating strong career prospects are becoming dimmer and slimmer as time marches on. Yet, money doesn’t fall from the skies and she has to make an income somehow. This is where things like personal training, one-on-one online consulting, fitness entrepreneurship, and ahem, offering wrestling or muscle worship sessions to paying customers (all under the table and away from the prying hands of tax collectors, of course!) fit into the picture. She may not necessarily want to do any or most of these things, but as I mentioned before, money doesn’t grow on trees and food won’t miraculously appear on the dinner table out of thin air. So, a female bodybuilder who wants to pursue bodybuilding as a profession – more or less – must adapt to her present circumstances or face the inevitable option of having to choose a different career path.

Another lovely and gorgeous Tina: Tina Chandler.

Adaptation isn’t easy or seamless, but it does happen. People who live in the real world adapt every single day of their lives. What worked yesterday won’t necessarily work today and sure as hell won’t work tomorrow, so it’s foolish to remain stilted in one’s ways of doing things. One must always look for the next best opportunity or face the consequences of becoming poor, irrelevant, or both. This requires understanding the bodybuilding industry well, knowing what customers want (if you get my drift), and being willing to forge a new pathway if the current ones leads to a dead end. I didn’t say it’s easy to do this, but it can be done. We can collectively name hundreds of female bodybuilders from all across the world who can testify to this.

Another aspect to female bodybuilding that’s important to realize is the independent nature of the sport. Unlike team sports like baseball, football (the one that features tackling, throwing, and catching), basketball, hockey, soccer, rugby, and others, bodybuilding isn’t a sport that consists of teams, teammates, and being dependent upon others to win games. It’s solely on the shoulders of each individual athlete.

Of course, it deserves to be said that every single top-level bodybuilder – male or female – has a large team of coaches, trainers, nutritional experts, doctors, and assistants who aid them on their journey to becoming an elite competitor. No man is an island, and perhaps no woman is an island either. So a female bodybuilder isn’t completely paddling a single canoe. But there’s no denying that bodybuilding is ruggedly individualistic in nature. The panel of judges that decides who wins and who doesn’t win only looks at the individual competitors, not who they have standing in their corner cheering them on.

Muhammad Ali is known as the greatest boxer of all time – not Muhammad Ali and his army of personal trainers, physicians, sparring partners, promoters, advisors, and so on. Though every top athlete has help from a team of professionals, but only one person is in the ring fighting against his or her opponent. And the last time I checked, Ali was the only one in that ring staring down his hapless challenger.

Bodybuilders of all stripes understand this reality intuitively. If they make a mistake, they alone must answer for it. They can’t blame a lazy teammate, idiotic coaching, or an overall poor supporting cast for being a perpetual loser. They only have themselves to blame if they placed 3^rd at last year’s competition but 10^th this year. That drop-off can have plenty of rational explanations (biased judging being a prominent one), but at the end of the day every single competitor is responsible for their own training, progress, dieting, and outcomes.

Which leads us to the next point…

Female bodybuilders aren’t striving to achieve a goal that exists only in the abstract. Rather, they bust their tails every day of their lives working toward a goal that’s specific, tangible, measurable, attainable, and very damn difficult to meet. There’s an element of poetic beauty integral to this reality, isn’t there?

If a new and up-and-coming female athlete looks at photos of Alina Popa, Debi Laszewski or Brigita Brezovac and says to herself, “I want to look like that one day,” guess what? She can! Granted, it won’t be easy and the journey from Point A to Point B will be arduous, tumultuous, and full of plenty of doubt. But nevertheless, one cannot deny that the goal can be met if she sets her mind to it and educates herself on what is necessary to get there.

Annie Rivieccio earns my vote for "Best Bicep Peak." — Annie Rivieccio earns my vote for “Best Bicep Peak.”

Unlike politicians who promise big and bold achievements that probably aren’t realistic and only will set their constituents up for disappointment, a female bodybuilder has a distinct goal in mind that’s specific and can accurately be visualized ahead of time. It doesn’t exist in a theoretical universe that looks great on paper or in a rousing speech but doesn’t actually work in real life. Bodybuilding is a sport where end results aren’t achieved by dumb luck or happenstance. It materializes when an athlete makes a definitive decision to take specific action toward achieving a precise goal.

Nobody will argue that it’ll be easy to look like Lisa Cross or Rene Campbell. That high degree of muscularity doesn’t come easily. But one cannot also argue that such objectives are impossible. They are quite possible to meet, albeit after one is eager to dramatically reorganize one’s lifestyle.

Point B isn’t a hypothetical reality that exists only in one’s mind. Building an impressive level of muscle mass is a concrete end that arises after participating in concrete means. Gaining x number of pounds of muscle or placing in the top five of a certain bodybuilding contest are measurable and quantifiable aims that are either achieved or not achieved. There is no middle ground. There is no ambiguity. Either it happened or it didn’t. Period.

And who is to blame if one sets out to gain bigger biceps and triceps and fails? You guessed it. The person who established these goals in the first place and nobody else.

One other facet of female bodybuilders that must be addressed is the fact that FBBs are, for the most part, not worried about being popular or widely accepted by society. A woman who chooses to pursue bodybuilding in any serious manner is opening herself up to a variety of different kinds of obstacles – many of which she would not face had she not decided to become a bodybuilder.

It’s no mystery that a woman with big muscles is an unusual sight to see. Simply put, these women are rare in our world. Yet, a small number of remarkable women are actively working to build big muscles despite the potential backlash that might come with it. Many will receive looks of repulsion or disgust. Accusations of being “too manly” or “becoming a man” will start to flood in. There will be those who will ask her “do you have to get that big?” Others will question her life choices and wonder if she’s hiding something.

But no matter what comes her way, a female bodybuilder must be tough-minded and relentless in the pursuit of her dreams. She must endure people looking at her differently. She must accept the fact trolls on the Internet will post nasty remarks about her. She knows the road to becoming a pro bodybuilder will be strenuous…but she does it regardless. That’s not easy to do. There aren’t too many of us in this world who are capable of breaking all those barriers, jumping over all those hurdles, and trudging through all those obstacles when the easier road is to not pursue bodybuilding in the first place.

She does what she wants to do knowing it won’t be popular with everyone. Yes, she will meet people along the way who will support her, but certainly that won’t be everybody. Doing the right thing – following your dreams – despite outside noise takes emotional and intellectual fortitude. Do you honestly believe some of our elected representatives share that same level of internal strength?

Catherine Holland could start a nuclear war over her physique.

The final point I’ll make (although I could go on further) is that a female bodybuilder possesses a deep understanding of how the world works and must apply this knowledge practically in the quest of her chosen profession. She needs to be an entrepreneur, agent, marketer, business manager, scheduler, public relations specialist, nutritionist, athletic trainer, and personal ambassador all at the same time. As a small fish in a big pond, an FBB’s success or failure wholly depends upon how well she understands her circumstances and how she can cultivate an accomplished career from it (or despite it).

In this respect, female bodybuilders earn what’s coming to them. They aren’t “given” success. Nobody votes for them to have large muscles or a chiseled physique. They have to expel blood, sweat, and tears day in and day out to achieve their bodies. Granted, a panel of judges does elect how she places at a competition, but that’s an exception. For the most part, she wouldn’t have been able to reach that point of being on that stage unless she put in the hard work beforehand. Besides, actual competing is only a small part of the rewards that come from bodybuilding.

The biggest reward is the personal satisfaction of knowing that you’ve accomplished something grand. Nobody can take that away from you. Your opponents may have more trophies than you, but what every single competitor has is the sense of triumphant pride that comes with pursuing a goal with manic obsession. Truly, an FBB earns her success. That’s how the real world operates.

Presidents, prime ministers, senators, representatives, governors, MPs, city councilmembers, mayors, and other positions of elected authority do not always share these same traits. It seems rather odd to have a system where the power to regulate, tax, create new laws, authorize war, or incarcerate citizens are given to people who get that job simply by winning a glorified popularity contest. Very strange, indeed. But, that’s the system we have until something better replaces it.

Here in the United States of America, we give the nuclear codes to people we wouldn’t trust to manage the local Burger King. We trust those who’ve never ran a business to regulate businesses. We ask people who’ve never served in the military to send young men and women they’ve never met to a foreign country and die for an ambiguous cause. To summarize, we elect people who don’t understand how the world works to decide how the world works.

Insanity.

However, ask I’ve just articulated, a female bodybuilder does understand how the world works. She has to in order to survive. She must understand how to relate to people. She knows what it’s like to be a businesswoman…because she essentially is a one-woman business. She does what she does regardless of how unpopular it might make her. At the end of the day, a female bodybuilder shares these characteristics:

Mental toughness
Adaptability
Entrepreneurial savviness
Focus
Intelligence
Knowledgeable about the real world
Grit
Strength – both physical and emotional
Ability to earn her success
Independence

As I’ve said before, the list can go on and on. But you get the idea. I’m not suggesting that we should actually elect current or former female bodybuilders to high positions of political power just because they happen to be current or former FBBs. However, what I do want to illustrate is that FBBs boast a unique perspective on life that cannot be easily replicated or transferred.

I'd appoint Nikki Fuller as my Secretary of Muscle. — I’d appoint Nikki Fuller as my Secretary of Muscle.

She’s earned her success. She’s forged her own path. She’s self-taught herself topics in areas like calisthenics, biology, science, nutrition, sports medicine, etc. She lives in an environment that can be cruel and adversarial toward her. She knows how to persevere through obstacles and come out better for it. She must adapt to her surroundings…or die refusing to do so.

That’s not an easy thing to do. It’s not for everyone. Certainly not people who’ve existed in an Ivy League-encrusted silver spoon-fed bubble for their entire lives. As Americans go to the polls on November 8 they should ask themselves, “How the hell did we get here in the first place?” It’s a perfectly valid question; one that doesn’t have any easy answers.

But perhaps the answer is simple. We, as a nation, don’t value the right things. We value what we want to hear, not what we should hear. We live in a fantasy world full of bright shiny objects, not in the real world where decisions have actual consequences.

Female bodybuilders, on the other hand, do not get to live in such a magical universe. They must always be on their toes. They cannot get lazy or entitled. They must continuously grind in order to reach the Promised Land – which nobody actually promised them at all. In short, female bodybuilders represent humanity at its best. FBBs don’t make empty promises about what they think they’ll do. They actually do it every single day of their lives.

I’d vote for that.

Big Clits and Little Penises

Melissa Dettwiller catching some much needed sunshine.

I love big clits.

Many female muscle fans also love big clits. We love big clits. There aren’t too many things in this world that excite us like the sight of a beautiful muscular woman with a large clitoris. As odd as this may sound, it actually makes quite a lot of sense once you start to think about it. I’ve written before about why muscular women with big clits are so fascinating, but it seems like the conversation has just gotten started.

Though analogous with the male penis, a woman’s clitoris is still without question an exclusively feminine organ. For most women, the clitoris is remarkably small and not easily visible. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t significant. On the contrary, the vast majority of the clitoris is actually located inside the woman’s body. While the medical research isn’t in complete agreement, the general consensus (if one exists) is that the base of the clitoris is what we would normally call a woman’s g-spot, an erogenous zone of the vagina that can lead to intense orgasms when properly stimulated. The head is what we see protruding underneath the clitoral hood.

Female bodybuilders who’ve taken drugs (for an extended period of time) that increase their testosterone levels often experience their clitorises growing in size. Fans of female bodybuilders may not know or be able to successfully pronounce the word “clitoromegaly,” but we certainly appreciate witnessing the result of it whenever we get the chance. I know I do!

This is why we cannot stop watching female muscle porn that involves us seeing close-up shots of great big clits. There’s a reason why Denise Masino, Angela Salvagno, Brandi Mae Akers, and Amber DeLuca are among my favorite FBBs of all time. All four of these women (as well as many others) not only are endowed with large clitorises, they are also not shy about showing them off to their voyeuristic fans. How lucky we are, indeed.

These ladies and others are not only willing to show off their clits for the camera, they’re also enthusiastic about masturbating it, pumping it with a clit pump, and allowing a partner (male or female) to suck it to the point of orgasm. They don’t just have large clits. They want us to know it. They want us to desire it. They want us to fantasize about it.

Well, it’s definitely an effective marketing strategy. They’ve got me hooked! Many of you probably are as well.

But what is it about a large clitoris that lures us in like a magic spell? Theories abound, but I think I know what’s so special about them. In a previous post titled The Bigger the Clit, the Happier We All Are (NSFW), I presented the argument that guys love female bodybuilders with big clits because a large clitoris symbolizes sexual independence, empowerment, and sovereignty. Skimming through this post again, I can’t say I disagree with anything I wrote. But let’s discuss this topic from a slightly different angle.

My original thesis is based upon the perspective of the female bodybuilder. From her point of view, her large clitoris is an outward expression of her sexuality. She isn’t a passive being who possesses a vagina that exists for the sole purpose of receiving a man’s penis during intercourse. This paradigm reinforces the idea that men are the ones who should initiate sex and that women are only there to oblige. This framework has existed for thousands of years and still lives on today. But times are changing. A female bodybuilder with a large clitoris, however, speeds up the process of society changing its perspective.

Her clitoris is a pro-active sexual organ that can give her orgasmic pleasure absent a man’s penis. In fact, the clitoris exists for no other reason than to give a woman pleasure. All women have clits, but most women’s clits are too small to be seen. Many women’s clits cannot be seen even when she’s fully aroused. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there, however. It’s there…it’s just that the majority of it exists inside her body, away from a casual glance.

For a female bodybuilder who’s well-endowed, her large clitoris is obvious for everyone to see. It can be stimulated to the point of orgasm just like a man’s penis. Rumor has it the clitoris is more sensitive than the penis, which perhaps gives women more pleasurable orgasms. I don’t know if this can be scientifically verified, but let’s assume there are at least a few grains of truth to this. Like the penis, the clitoris is a woman’s way of demonstrating that she is a sovereign sexual creature who can enjoy sex for purposes that have nothing to do with reproduction or pleasing a man. She can please herself anytime she wants to, even if she’s all by herself without a phallic object anywhere in sight.

Of course, you can't have a discussion about female bodybuilders and large clits unless the esteemed Denise Masino makes an appearance. — Of course, you can’t have a discussion about female bodybuilders and large clits unless the esteemed Denise Masino makes an appearance.

This theme of sexual independence is especially pronounced when we’re dealing with muscular women, who are in many respects the epitome of a “strong independent woman.” She’s strong and independent not in a fake pop culture-inspired quasi-empowerment sort of way, but in real and tangible terms. Her big clit punctuates the point that she can control her own destiny, whether it’s in the gym or in the bedroom.

As I mentioned before, this perspective assumes the beauty of a large clit from the point of view of the female bodybuilder. Another perspective that should be talked about is that of guys who love muscular women. What are some other reasons why they love big clits on big strong women?

One significant reason is that a big clit looks like a small penis.

Now, let’s back up for a moment. There exists the misconception that guys who love female bodybuilders are either secretly gay and refuse to admit it or have sexual preferences that are not totally 100% “straight,” however you define the term. I don’t think this is accurate. Also, I’m not saying that being gay is somehow a bad thing or something that one should be embarrassed about. Who you are is who you are, that’s what I say. The point I’m making is that many guys who love muscular women are completely heterosexual and wouldn’t have it any other way. Our love for muscular women is nothing more than an alternative preference that’s a bit far removed from the so-called “mainstream.” That’s it.

That being said, our association of a big clit with a small penis has nothing to do with latent homosexual preferences or anything of the sort. It has more to do with appreciating the accomplishments of female bodybuilders despite their physical limitations.

To illustrate this point, consider the concept of big muscles. Normally, we associate large muscularity and great strength with masculinity. Men have more testosterone in their bodies, which logically means they can build muscle faster. Combined with the fact that human males are naturally larger than human females, you can quickly see why we traditionally associate strength and muscles as being masculine traits. However, female bodybuilders don’t necessarily shatter these perceptions; instead they are prime examples that men do not have a monopoly on strength and muscularity.

Women are at a handicap but do not have to be defined by this handicap. We can think of hundreds of female bodybuilders, athletes, fitness enthusiasts, and gym rats who have strength and muscle mass that surpass many men. So for guys who love FBBs, we love them not because they’re women who look like men, but because they’re women who look like women…strong women to be exact.

Along the same wavelength, we love a big clit not because it looks like a small penis but because it almost is the same size as a small penis (in a manner of speaking) in spite of it being undeniably a clit.

Huh? What does this mean exactly?

Guys who love big clits on big muscular women love the fact these ladies possess a beautiful endowment that is unquestionably feminine yet powerfully autonomous at the same time. A big clit also symbolizes another truth that guys tend to like: No matter what, a man is still a man and a woman is still a woman.

For guys like us, a big clit is a stark reminder that no matter how big and burly a woman can get, there’s still a distinct separation between biological men and biological women. Even the smallest penis in the world (although I will admit I haven’t done a whole lot of research on what the world record is regarding the smallest penis in human history) is larger than the biggest clitoris in the world. At least, I’m assuming that to be true.

Thus, in a titillating way, even the weakest and most sexually insecure man can take comfort knowing he still possesses the larger endowment. She may have bigger muscles. She may be able to lift more at the gym. She’s more powerful, energetic, charismatic, intriguing, popular, motivated, and authoritative. Her clitoris may be larger-than-life and almost (but not quite) resembles a man’s penis. But a man is still a man. And she is still a woman. This isn’t an overtly sexist or misogynist observation, but instead one rooted in how men think of themselves with respects to women.

Desiree Ellis relaxing and spreading her legs wide. No big deal?

For men, genitalia are ultimately what separate us from the fairer sex. Though men are naturally stronger than women, as I’ve mentioned before, female bodybuilders are proof that biological construction is not an unbreakable barrier. No matter how insurmountable it may seem, a woman can definitely work hard enough to be stronger than many men. Not all men, but certainly she can earn a spot above the vast majority of men on the planet. Social status could also separate men from women, but those barriers are also being blurred as time marches on. So what’s left?

Here’s what’s left: what exists between our legs. Am I right?

Yes. The intrigue of a man seeing a female bodybuilder with a large clit is similar to the thrill of beating a little kid at pickup basketball. 10 years from now, that puny little kid may grow up to be more athletically gifted than you, but at this moment you’re the superior basketball player. This kid may even have the reputation of being a basketball prodigy. You might not have been good enough to play for your school’s junior varsity team. But you are a solid three to four years older and several inches taller, making you the better player as things stand right now. You love beating this kid at his own game even though you clearly have advantages that he does not.

Similarly, guys love seeing a female bodybuilder with a large clit because it reminds us of our masculine qualities. We know we’re supposed to have larger genitalia than women. And despite a few rare instances in recorded human history, men do have much larger genitals than women. Even women with enormous clits that are big enough to make your jaw drop to the floor. She has big muscles and an eye-popping endowment hanging between her legs, but you ultimately have the larger piece of meat when all is said and done.

For guys who are insecure about themselves (which is perfectly normal) this glaring reminder serves as a bit of psychological comfort. We’re still men. We don’t believe that possessing a penis makes us superior or that possessing a vagina makes you inferior, but deep down inside the recesses of our brains we know our genitals provide us a degree (whether it’s earned or completely unearned) of sexual vitality and strength.

An FBB could be bigger than us in almost every facet. Bigger biceps. Bigger triceps. Bigger chest. Bigger back. Bigger quads. Bigger shoulders. Bigger hamstrings. Bigger calves. Bigger glutes. More chiseled abs. Everything about her is bigger, stronger, and more dynamic. Except, of course…

You guessed it.

Her enlarged clit is a valiant effort. It’s a striking testament to the fact that even women can be “well hung” under certain circumstances. But not totally. Her clit is beautifully big and potent, but it ain’t what hangs between our legs. We got something that she doesn’t have and will never have. Even those of us who think we have smaller packages (because a lot of that is based on perceptions instead of reality) can lift our heads up high knowing not even the brawniest female bodybuilder can surpass us in one specific anatomical area.

So that’s what I mean when I say we love big clits because it resembles a penis. We love them not because they are penises, but because they resemble one. There’s a significant difference. A big clit may be a phallic-like organ that provides a woman orgasmic pleasure, but it still isn’t even close to being a penis. Not. Even. Close. Regardless of what trolls on the Internet or impressionable young kids Googling things for the first time may think, a big clit is not a penis. Sure, it sort of looks like a very small one, but that still doesn’t mean anything.

Autumn Raby enjoying a phallic object that isn't her own. — Autumn Raby enjoying a phallic object that isn’t her own.

Yet, they do indeed resemble a little penis. I am not here to deny that. A clit has a thick head, a narrower shaft, and is ultrasensitive to the touch. When stimulated it can produce an orgasm. So the comparison is apt and understandable. When we’re dealing with a female bodybuilder who’s blessed with a large endowment the comparisons become more apparent. But that doesn’t change a thing. We love big clits because at the end of the day, a clit is still an undeniably feminine organ, no matter how large in size it gets. I don’t think this point is even up for discussion, but that’s just me.

In a way, a big clit is similar to big muscles. We love female muscle not because it resembles male muscle; we love female muscle because it’s…muscles on a female. Muscles are neither male nor female. The only difference is which type of body they exist on. Likewise, we love big clits because we love beautiful-looking female genitalia. We love it because it’s feminine, not masculine. We love it because it accentuates the concept of women being independent sexual beings who deserve the delights of physical pleasure. We also love it because in a kinky kind of way, it reminds us men of our own sexual independence. Women have their stuff and so do men. But our stuff is bigger!

A common theme found within discussions about female bodybuilders and the men who love them is the degree to which muscles can break down social and biological barriers. Do muscles make a woman more masculine? Is becoming more masculine even a bad thing? Are men who love muscular women somehow abandoning their social status? Can muscles help a woman elevate her social status, or does it not make any difference at all? Are muscles the great equalizer, or do biological gender differences still act as a brick wall that distinctly separates men from women?

All of these questions are fascinating. I can spend years and decades pondering them. But this clearly illustrates one important reason why we love female muscle: Strong women don’t just lift up themselves. They lift up all of us!