bodybuilding – Page 10 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Eighteen – The Morning After

At 9:45 a.m. I wake up, vaguely remembering my dream. I think it had something to do with going back to school and finishing a biology exam, but I could be wrong. Who needs to dream when real life is so much more exciting?

I lazily turn to my left and see Miss North snoozing like an angel. Her black and gray hair covers her face, shielding her eyes from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. Lovingly, I pull back a lock of her hair and lightly caress her face.

Cindi stirs, feeling my fingers on her cheek. When she takes my finger into her mouth and sucks on it lightly, I know she has fully awoken.

“Good morning, Cindi.”

“Good morning to you, Ryan. You taste sweet.” Nibbling on my finger, I sense that my penis has also woken up from its slumber. As if she has a sixth sense for these things, Cindi reaches down and strokes up and down my shaft, sending goosebumps shivering up my body.

“Thank you, but you’re much sweeter than me.” Kissing her right breast, I gently take her nipple between my lips and play with it with my tongue. Releasing a hushed moan, her fingers wrap tighter around my manhood, as if she’s grabbing onto it for dear life.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just saying thank you for all you did for me last night.”

“Oh, thanks. But remember, lovemaking is a two-way road. You also did things to me as well, wouldn’t you say?” As if trying to job my memory, Cindi cups my scrotum and tenderly squeezes it. I groan, expressing my pleasure.

“Yes, you’re right about that. A lot happened to me last night, but I’m sure it’s just par for the course with you.”

“Are you calling me a whore?” Cindi sounds genuinely offended.

“No! Of course not! I’m just saying–”

“Shhhhhh!!!! Don’t get so chippy! I’m joking, Ryan.”

Cindi releases my testicles and sticks a finger up my anus, just as I did to her last night in the shower. I gasp loudly, but not with the shock of Cindi intruding my body, but with the delightful astonishment of her returning the favor.

“How does it feel to have a woman penetrate you? Does it feel good?” Cindi’s finger digs deeper inside me, as if she’s claiming ownership over me. I have no qualms about Cindi North claiming me as her own.

“It feels…strange. Is this what it feels like…to…you know, be penetrated back there?” I almost stop breathing. My lungs fill with air, but cannot exhale as long as she’s inside me.

“Yes. Because that’s exactly what’s happening to you right now.” Cindi releases her finger from my bottom and kisses me deeply on the lips, tasting every centimeter of my mouth. Our tongues meet, wrestling like two heavyweights grappling on the mat.

“What shall we have for breakfast?” Cindi asks. I struggle to catch my breath as our lips come apart.

“I have no idea. I don’t live here. What do you suggest we have for breakfast?”

“I know exactly what we should eat.” Cindi kisses me again. Then, she grabs my head with both hands and shoves me down toward her pubic mound. Her enormous clitoris stands at attention, ready to be satiated.

“Eat me for breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I begin by wrapping my lips around her “little penis,” sucking at its head till I hear Cindi let out a loud, uninhibited groan. I then stick one, then two fingers inside her vagina, exploring her inner walls. They are already moist and hot to the touch.

Cindi spreads her bulky legs wide in a spread eagle formation, opening her womanhood wider to me. I notice a small drop of feminine juice leak out from her vulva. It leaves a small, clear stain on the bed sheet. This arouses me further.

My fingers find her g-spot as my tongue continues to punish her clitoris. Waves of sensation pulse through Cindi’s dynamic body, leaving this muscular angel weak and helpless. She is at my mercy, a feeling of domination that sends surges of adrenaline rushing through me.

A third finger enters her, complimenting what my two fingers are already doing. I lightly blow hot air onto her wet clitoris, causing Cindi to gasp even louder than when I gasped. I am still in shock that a woman could be so well endowed. Her “little penis” grows harder and harder, anticipating a raging orgasm.

Cindi grabs my hair and pulls it, almost lifting my mouth off her womanhood. I resist, remaining between her legs, pleasuring her like she pleasured me last night. My three fingers suddenly thrust against her g-spot, forcing a vulgar scream to bellow from her throat.

Finally, Cindi can’t hold it any longer and she climaxes, sending waves of delight streaming across the entire room. Hell, her climax is probably being felt on the Richter scale at this moment!

A clear jet of white, milky fluid escapes from her vagina as her walls contract powerfully. It leaves a significant stain on the sheets, adding to the previous stain she made earlier.

Holy hell.

HOLY FUCK!!!

Did she just ejaculate? Did I just cause Cindi to ejaculate? I think it did.

Hooooooooooooooooooooooooootttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cindi’s breathing calms down and she eventually returns back to planet Earth. Her eyes open and she looks at me, smiling and puffing away.

“Thank you, Ryan. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Uh, Cindi, you…kind of…uh…”

“Squirted?”

Her nonchalant answer took me by surprise. I immediately sat up after hearing this singular word escape from her mouth.

“Yes…that’s exactly what I meant. You, um…squirted. All over your sheets.”

“I’ve been known to do that when someone hits my g-spot at the right time with the right amount of force. Congratulations, Ryan. You did something hardly anyone can do without specific instructions.”

I feel proud. Really? Did I just do that? Did I just give her an orgasm so powerful it caused her to ejaculate like a man? WOW!

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m proud of the fact that I can squirt as well as any man.”

Cindi sticks out her chest and beats on her breast like Tarzan. I laugh, causing her to laugh with me. She might be a powerful, dominating, muscular woman, but she’s still a softie at heart. I like this about her.

“Are you sure you can squirt as well as any man?”

“Of course. When properly motivated.”

“Men can squirt pretty well when they’re properly motivated, too.” I nibble on her ear. Taking my not-so-subtle hint, Cindi reaches down and grabs onto my penis with both hands, rubbing up and down furiously.

“I think I know what you mean.”

Before I could speak, Cindi kisses me, an electric shock bolting down my spine. Her fingers wrapped tightly around my manhood, with reckless abandon Cindi strokes up and down, causing my vision to blur. On the apex of the proverbial “Cloud 9,” I feel my orgasm build as her right hand surrounds me, refusing to let go.

“I love this, Ryan. I love this so much!” Cindi whispers into my ear, as if she enjoys giving pleasure as much as she enjoys receiving pleasure. At this point, who could argue either way?

Cindi’s thumb brushes against the tip of my penis, making me shudder. Then she grips the base of my manhood and squeezes it suddenly, sending me over the edge. I climax, powerful spasms rocking my entire being.

Five or six squirts later, I look down and see several drops of my semen lying on her bed sheets, shamelessly sprawled out on top of her womanly juices. We kiss again, but with less ferocity and with more passion.

We both look down at the mess we made and burst out laughing for what seems like ten minutes. Can you believe two mature adults, one 48 and the other 23-years-old, just wet the bed?

Our laughter dies down. Tears are rolling down our faces. We kiss again.

“I’m sorry I stained your sheets.” Embarrassed, I must be red in the face.

Cindi kisses my cheek and smiles.

“It’s okay. I did too!”

We burst out laughing again, this time our laughter lasts an eternity.

Eventually, we clean up our mess and toss the bed sheets into the washing machine. She starts a load of laundry, which includes a large pile of workout shirts, shorts and towels. We put our clothes back on and go downstairs toward the kitchen. It’s now time for REAL breakfast!

Cindi doesn’t feel like cooking, so we eat leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. Who knew quinoa still tastes good the next day?

After breakfast, Cindi takes out the laundry from the washer and places it in the dryer in preparation for her Sunday afternoon workout. Cindi tells me today is a chest day. Imagining Cindi bench press 350 pounds is enough to give me another erection. Surprisingly, I remain settled.

“Can you come over again next Saturday? We can do dinner again.”

“Of course! I’d love to. I think I should bring something else instead of just a bottle of wine. I can cook something!”

“You can do that? I’d love for you to bring something. Just make sure it’s healthy.”

“Without a doubt! I’d never bring anything unhealthy here.”

“I’m just kidding. I do have a sweet tooth. I can be very naughty at times.”

“Tell me about it! You are a naughty girl.” I squeeze her thigh. The feel of her large, muscular legs almost gives me a heart attack.

Cindi plants one last kiss on me as I head out the door. Gasping for air, I decide to hug her. We embrace for a very long time, savoring every moment. I should be thankful for this wonderful, gracious woman. She took me into her home, cooked me a delicious meal, took my virginity and treated me to an evening I will never forget. I’ll never forget this morning, either.

“Thanks, Cindi. For everything.”

“No, Ryan. Thank you. You’re a great guy. I’m glad I know you.” We embrace again, this time under the watchful eye of Cindi’s next door neighbors. Who cares if the whole world sees us like this? They can judge all they want. What we do in our own private time is nobody’s business but our own.

“I’m glad I know you, too. Have a good workout.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The short walk back to my car is very surreal. I came to his house yesterday a virgin, but I left a man. A real man. Yes, Cindi told me I was always a man, but this morning things are totally different. I genuinely feel different. I feel more grown up, more confident, more vibrant.

I can take on the whole world! Nobody can get in my way! Watch out, universe. Ryan Takahashi has arrived, and he’s taking no prisoners!!!

I wave one last time to Cindi as I drive away back to Seattle. She waves back, blowing me an air kiss. I almost hit a mailbox, but swerve out of the way at the last second.

As I drive home, I realize I just had six orgasms in the last twelve hours. Gee, I’m going to be so sore tomorrow!

But it will be well worth it.

VEEEEEEEEEEEERY well worth it.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Sixteen – Round Two

Cindi and I both sit up and gaze into each other’s eyes. I cup her face and kiss her languorously, savoring the sweet taste of her delicious mouth. I want to experience Cindi through all five of my senses. She’s the type of complex woman who can be experienced in that way.

After our lips come apart, Cindi grabs my hips and pulls me on my back. Experiencing her brute strength further arouses me, as if I needed further help.

Once I’m on my back, Cindi stretches her enormous body above me and kisses me again. This time, she’s the one savoring every moment. Do I taste as sweet to her as she does to me? I highly doubt it.

The sensitive tip of my penis is now brushing against her muscled tummy. I feel a small drop of liquid leak out of my manhood and onto her eight-pack abs. I hope I’m not going to prematurely come again!

“I love you, Ryan,” she whispers into my ear as she grinds her tree trunk legs against my weaker legs.

“I love you too, Cindi,” I whisper back, caressing her thick back muscles. My arms barely reach around her wide torso. Her thickness further arouses my senses.

Did we just exchange affirmations of love? This is getting serious, by God! Or are we just caught up in the moment of sexual ecstasy?

Cindi tosses her head back, her black hair flying backwards out of her face. A single strand falls across her nose. She lets out a short, quick breath to blow it away. It remains in place. I think this is cute. She apparently agrees.

“Being sexy is not one of my best qualities,” Cindi confesses.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the sexiest woman in the world!”

“Thank you, but trust me, acting sexy isn’t really my thing. I’m not comfortable being that way, if you know what I’m saying.”

“That’s okay. Perfectly okay. Just act like yourself. That’s sexy enough for me.”

Cindi smiles widely, accentuating every age line on her face. I reach up and touch her jawline. She takes my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them slowly. My erect penis is now resting straight up across her belly. I swear, if she doesn’t do anything else except suck on my fingers, I might come just because of that!

“I appreciate hearing that, Ryan.” Taking my fingers out of her mouth, she begins to caress my nipples until they both stand up at attention. My fingers wet with her moisture, I mirror her actions and fondle her breasts. Cindi’s large brown areola and long nipples harden as we continue to stroke each other’s chests.

As I prepare to say something in return, Cindi hushes me up by grabbing the base of my penis and squeezing it tightly. I let out a moan of delight. Sensing my readiness (or at this point, over-readiness!), she raises herself onto her knees until her entire body is hovering over mine. The bed squeaks in protest, a direct reaction to a large, muscular woman shaking the very foundations of the Earth.

Slowly but surely, Cindi lowers herself until the entire length of my erect penis enters her vagina. Still hot and moist, Cindi is the antithesis of the stereotypical middle-aged woman who’s lost her sexual vibrancy. When it comes to good, old fashioned lovemaking, Cindi has not skipped a beat, even at the ripe age of 48.

After coming together at our most intimate parts, Cindi sways her hips back and forth and side to side, experimenting with various tempos to see what gives us both maximum pleasure. Her hands explore my shoulders as my hands greedily explore her abdominal muscles and thighs.

Straddling me like a horse, Cindi takes the cowgirl position into full throttle by bouncing her pelvis up and down my shaft, taking in every thrust as if it might be our last. I sure hope this night isn’t our last together!

“Yes, yes, yes!” Cindi growls, anticipating her impending climax. I also sense my own orgasm building, as I’ve stopped stroking her thighs and began gripping her hips to give me better leverage.

I moan loudly as Cindi’s up and down bouncing becomes more frantic, more passionate. She’s looking up at the heavens, her eyes closed, drinking in every sensual moment of our lovemaking. I feel my penis grow harder and harder, explosions of pure pleasure permeating through every fiber of it. I wonder if Cindi is feeling the same way.

As if she’s reading my mind, Cindi reaches down and rubs her clitoris with sudden urgency. Her breathing becomes wild, her inhibitions becoming a thing of the past. I look down and see she’s ferociously massaging her clitoris with three fingers as her pelvis thrusts reach a crescendo.

“Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, yes!!!!!!!!!!!” Cindi screams at the top of her lungs, her powerful vaginal walls contracting uncontrollably around me.

“Oooohhhhh!!!!” I moan in response as my orgasm reaches its peak. I empty more semen into her, but this time I do it not as an act of lust, but an act of love; an act of a man giving a woman his precious seed as an expression of his affection for her.

My spasms come to an end but my manhood remains impossibly hard, lodged deep inside her womanhood. Cindi collapses on top of me, her breasts digging into my neck. A drip of sweat rolls down her chest and lands on my tongue. She tastes salty but sweet at the same time.

Her strong, musky smell permeates out of every inch of her muscular body. Cindi’s black and gray hair sweep across my face. I still can’t believe I just made love to this Strong Muscle Goddess.

Eventually Cindi rolls off me and onto her side. We exchange a long, deep kiss. Our eyes meet. We kiss again.

“That was fun,” Cindi says breathlessly.

“No kidding. You were amazing. I think I like it better when you’re on top.”

She kisses me on the cheek. I rub her bottom, feeling her taut glutes flex as she shows off her amazing muscle control. How can she be in the mood to flex her muscles at a time like this?

“I’m drenched in sweat, Ryan. Look at me.”

I take a good look at her. Wow! Even with tangled hair, no makeup on her face and sweat dripping from every pore of her body, she still looks a million times more amazing than any other woman on planet Earth. Her glistening sweat shows off her bulging muscles, exaggerating all the curves and curves on top of other curves on her body.

“You look amazing, Cindi. Absolutely amazing.” Stroking her meaty shoulders, I’m reminded of one of those guys you’d see fake-beating someone up on the WWE. Except in this case, it’s not a man. It’s a woman.

“Thank you, lover,” Cindi whispers into my ear, nibbling on it playfully. Is there anything she can do that won’t turn me on? We just got done with round two, but I feel like I could go for round three! And right now, not in a few minutes…

“What are you thinking right now, lover?”

“Honestly? I’m still in shock.”

“In shock about what, darling?”

“In shock about the fact that I just made love to a female bodybuilder. Someone who’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s still unbelievable to me.” I kiss up and down her powerful right arm, savoring every moment, enjoying every inch.

“I’m happy you feel that way. It must be a little unusual being with a woman like me.” Lifting her right arm up, she flexes, proudly showing off her gigantic bicep. She then bounces it up and down, a show of force that rips a chill down my spine all the way to my toes. I don’t think there’s ever been a woman alive in this universe who’s as strong as Cindi North.

“Have you ever met a woman who’s stronger than you?” I ask curiously.

She thinks about it for a moment.

“Yes. I’ve met lots of women who are stronger than me.”

“Are you being serious? Really? Who?”

“Oh, you don’t know them. When you go to as many shows and competitions as I have, you meet a lot of amazing people with unbelievable bodies. I’m sure I’ve met a girl or two who could lift more than me.”

“But do you know for sure?”

She thinks about it again for a moment.

“I think so. There are lots of women out there who are bigger than me.”

“Do they juice like you?” I still kiss her arm, completely oblivious about what I just said.

Cindi stops flexing her bicep and turns to me. I immediately cease kissing her. I sense I’ve said something wrong but I have no idea why. My eyes meet hers.

“Do you think I take steroids?”

I struggle to find the words to respond.

“Uh, um, I think so. But I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about–”

“Let’s not talk about other people. Let’s talk about me. Do you think I take steroids?”

Uh oh. Did I offend her? Am I making a very large assumption that has no basis of truth? I’ve always assumed she juiced. I mean, take a look at her body! She’s absolutely huge and she has a man’s voice! The evidence certainly implies that she does, or does it?

“Yes…I do. Do you?”

Cindi sits upright and leans her broad back across the headboard of the bed. She stops touching me and scowls at me with contempt. I think I’m screwed; and not in the way that just happened to me a few minutes ago! “Screwed” as in I’m totally fucked because I totally fucked up. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit…

“No, I do not. I used to, but I don’t. Not anymore. I used to when I was younger, but not today. Not yesterday, not last year, not anymore.”

“Did I offend you?”

Cindi lets out a heavy sigh, closes her eyes and reopens them, staring off into space. She doesn’t seem angry, at least not to the extent that I’m expecting. Maybe I’m not screwed after all.

“Yes, you did. But I’m not surprised that you think I’m juicing. Look, I am big, bigger than most women. But I can assure you I’m not taking any steroids. I did…ten years ago, believe it or not.” Cindi resumes touching me by taking her right hand into mine. I exhale a deep breath knowing she isn’t completely livid at me.

“So…you used to take steroids?”

“Yes, when I was about thirty-seven or thirty-eight, I took steroids so I could become as big as I could possibly be. But that didn’t end up so well.” She stops talking. I should probably change the subject.

“I’m sorry I said that, Cindi. I didn’t know you didn’t. I especially didn’t know it was a sore subject for you.”

“That’s okay, Ryan. I’m fine. I just had a brief flashback from my past. No big deal.” Cindi kisses my cheek and makes her way down to my neck. I cup her breasts and tease her nipples leisurely as my way of apologizing.

NOTE TO SELF: NEVER TALK ABOUT STEROIDS AGAIN WHEN I’M AROUND CINDI NORTH. OVER AND OUT.

“Do you want to take a shower before bed?”

“Can I spend the night?”

“Yes. Do you want to spend the night?”

“Of course. If you’ll let me. I don’t want to intrude. I think I’ve intruded enough already.”

“Like I said, it’s no big deal. I was just a little offended you thought my muscles aren’t natural. They’re all natural, for your information.” Cindi stands up and poses next to her mirror. Showcasing several competitive bodybuilding poses, she demonstrates the enormous size and incredible definition of her muscles, much to the delight of her lone audience member.

Holy cow, I sense my erection returning again!

“Do you like what you see?”

Could there be a more obvious answer?

“Of course I like what I see! I absolutely love what I see. You’re astonishing, Cindi. Thoroughly astonishing. What’s there not to like? You’re all natural, baby!”

With that, Cindi picks me up like a newborn infant and carries me to the bathroom.

“Let’s take a shower together, lover.”

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Thirteen – Dinner Party

The rest of my week flew by faster than a turkey on Thanksgiving morning. Tuesday turned to Wednesday, which turned to Thursday, which turned to Friday, which at last, after much eager waiting and anticipation, turned to Saturday.

Saturday! My date with Cindi North is finally here!

And a dinner date, no less. Very classy of us.

Cindi instructed me to bring a bottle of wine, so that is exactly what I will do. There’s a little wine and cheese shop about eight blocks away from my apartment. I visited it on Thursday after work. Believe it or not, I saw Monifa there buying a bottle of pinot noir and some fancy Swiss sharp white cheddar. Not only is she The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, Monifa has high-class taste.

I like her more and more.

I asked the employee working there what kind of wine he’d recommend (I like wine, but I don’t know much about it). He pointed to a moderately priced bottle of Beaujolais (it’s French, so it must be good!) sitting on a shelf behind him. I decided right then and there to go with that and immediately paid for it without looking at the other selections.

I hope my choice of something French will score me points. Perhaps I should have asked Monifa what kind of wine she likes. She seems to be a very urbane and cultured woman. This is definitely part of her charm. Ah, Monifa. She is SOOOOOOO gorgeous.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO gorgeous!!!

But enough about Monifa! This weekend is all about Cindi North, The Most Muscular Woman in the World. She told me to arrive at her house at 5 p.m., so I decide to leave my apartment at 4:30. I think thirty minutes will be enough to get me there.

In anticipation of Cindi seeing me naked, I went to the gym bright and early today to work out my arms, chest and hamstrings. I threw in the random leg exercise for good measure. The entire time I was busting my butt at Wellford Fitness Center I kept thinking about Cindi and her goddess figure. If that’s not enough motivation to torture your muscles for two hours, I don’t know what will properly motivate you!

At about 4:54 I arrive and park right by Cindi’s front lawn. I still have no idea which car is hers. I see three cars parked on her side of the street. One is red, the other is white and the other is black. I’m going to guess that her car is the black one. I have no idea why. It’s just a random guess.

With my bottle of moderately priced Beaujolais in hand (alright, if you must know, it cost me $46 plus tax. It’s not too much, but that’s generally speaking more than what I’d normally pay for a bottle of fermented grape juice), I approach her house as if it were a divine temple of worship. I’d worship Cindi’s body, no doubt about it. No Greek god ever had a body that was half as spectacular as Miss North’s.

Before I could extend my arm to knock on her door, the door opens and I see Cindi standing there to greet me.

Dear God! Even though it’s only been a week since I last saw her, seeing her again brings a whole new set of chills down my spine. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I will continue to be amazed of her large, muscular body. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to feasting my eyes upon it. Yowza!

“Ryan! You’re back! Come in!” Today she’s wearing gray sweatpants, a sporty t-shirt and a sweater. She looks like someone who just returned from the gym. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that’s exactly where she just came from.

“Hi Cindi, it’s good to see you after such a long week. I brought this.” I hand her the bottle of wine as I step into her house and take off my shoes. Taking off your shoes before entering into someone’s house is a very Japanese-y thing to do. I do it because I don’t want to get dirt on her carpet. It’s a pain in the rear to clean.

“Oooooh, it’s a French wine! And a Beaujolais. One of my favorites. Come in and make yourself at home. I’ve been cooking for the past hour and I think dinner is almost ready to eat.” Cindi takes the bottle of wine and goes back into the kitchen. After taking off my shoes I think about whether I should hang out in the living room or follow her into the kitchen. I decide to follow her to see what she’s preparing.

Wow, whatever it is, it smells really good!

I enter the kitchen and see Cindi mixing a salad together in a large green bowl. That salad must be taking the mixing of the century, judging from the size of her massive forearms.

“What are you making?”

“Something really healthy. I’ve cooked a vegan vegetable stew with a tossed arugula salad, quinoa and grilled asparagus. Just the type of good, nutritious food bodybuilders like us need to be eating,” she says with a silly grin.

“Ahem! Excuse me? Bodybuilders like us? You’re the only real bodybuilder here. I’m just a dude who works at a gym and exercises on a regular basis. I’m not even close to being in your league, sister.”

“I’m kidding, Ryan sweetie,” she says, kissing me on the cheek. “But to be honest with you, I consider everyone who works out their body on a regular basis to be a bodybuilder. Some are more…professional than others. And some are more accomplished than others, if that makes any sense.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I say, trying not to swoon from that kiss. “And I think you would definitely be put in the category of “more accomplished.” Did you work out today?”

“Yes I did. Today was legs. Never skip leg day!” Cindi puts down the salad bowl and opens the soup pot to check out the vegan vegetable soup. She stirs it slowly. My mouth proceeds to water.

“That’s right. Friends never let friends skip leg day.”

“The table is set and I think dinner is ready. There are two wine glasses on the counter. Grab them and I’ll join you in the dining room.”

“Alright.” I pick up the wine glasses and leave Cindi to tend to her last minute preparations. I set the glasses down at our respective spots (all the silverware and dishes are already in place) and take a seat. I can’t wait for dinner. It smells so delicious!

But mostly, I can’t wait for after dinner.

Yeah baby!

Cindi comes out of the kitchen with the salad bowl in one hand and a plate of grilled asparagus in the other.

“I’ll get the quinoa and I think we can then serve ourselves the soup.”

“I can’t wait. It smells divine.”

“Thanks. I hope it tastes divine as well. Uh, go ahead and serve yourself up.”

“Will do.” I take my soup bowl and follow her back into the kitchen.

Dinner was absolutely delicious, as expected. The soup was very good and had a rich aroma of various spices and flavors. The arugula salad made me almost want to become a vegan, but I still like meat. Speaking of which, our meal had absolutely no meat; just vegetables, starch and quinoa. Come to think of it, this might be the second or third time I’ve ever tasted quinoa.

Cindi and I talked for at least an hour about all sorts of subjects. Between sips of wine (which, I must say, was very delectable) we chatted about sports (BTW, Cindi can kick anybody’s butt at fantasy football), movies, observations about people at the gym (there are very specific groups of people at the gym who can all be neatly categorized. Trust us on this one), exercise in general and reminiscing on last week’s adventures.

“What really upsets me is when people sit on a bench and do nothing but talk on their cell phones, text or chat with their buddies. Other people want to use that, you know!”

“I totally agree!” Cindi exclaims. “That really pisses me off. Fortunately for me, I go to the gym when there’s hardly anybody there, so when idiots do show up I have other places to work out. But if it’s really busy, I’d just pick the guy up and toss him onto the streets.”

We both laugh. I can just imagine Cindi’s strong arms wrapping around some clueless dude and tossing him onto the side of the road. She wouldn’t do that, but she totally could.

“How do you feel about women who go to the gym and do nothing but run on the treadmill for 45 minutes and then leave?”

“You can do that in your neighborhood. Would it KILL you to pick up a weight every so often?” I can tell Cindi is a bit peeved that more women don’t weight train. She hates the stereotype of the ‘feeble, weak girl’ who can’t help herself. Cindi is anything but feeble and weak.

We laugh again.

As you can tell, we laugh a lot. A ton. Cindi is a very funny person. Who would’ve thought a massive, 6’4” female bodybuilder would also be hilarious in addition to possessing superhuman strength?

“Once again, I am so sorry I laughed at you after you came all over my face. I really didn’t mean to insult you. It was, like, the funniest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

“Hey, no problem. I laughed about it too on the drive home. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have a good idea. How about instead of talking about the past, why don’t we create a whole new set of memories that will be a lot more positive?”

My right eyebrow raises up.

“Ah, new memories you say? What are you trying to say?” I hope she likes teasing. I think she does.

“Thank you for joining me for dinner. But we all know the real reason why you’re here.”

Suddenly, a weird feeling came over me. Yes, I am here to have sex with Cindi, but that’s not exactly the whole picture. Something about the way she said that made me feel strangely uncomfortable.

“True, but let’s hold on a minute. Aren’t we also here to become friends? I don’t mean best friends or the kind of friends who hang out all the time. I also don’t mean friends with benefits. But I’m not here just for meaningless sex.”

Cindi’s face became serious.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. Not at all. I’m not implying our relationship is like that of a prostitute and her john. That’s not us. And I’m not ruling out the possibility of a friendship between us. I think we have very good chemistry together. Look at the time. It’s been almost an hour after we began eating and it feels like it’s only been ten minutes.”

“Wow. It has been an hour. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

There is a long silence. We stare at each other. This evening hasn’t had too many awkward silences. This is probably our first.

“I’m serious, Ryan. This relationship isn’t just about sex.”

“I know. I want to become friends.”

“I think we’ve become that already.”

“Really? But we’ve known each other for only a week. Is that enough time to become friends?”

“Sure it is. A friendship can start instantaneously and last a lifetime. That’s the beauty of friendships, no matter how unconventional.”

“Unconventional?”

“Yes. How many female bodybuilders are you friends with?”

“Only one. You.”

“And to be honest, I don’t have too many 23-year-old Japanese-American friends. You’re my only one.”

“I’m glad to be your only one.”

Cindi smiles. When she smiles it reveals the deep wrinkles around her eyes and age lines across her face. But I don’t see that as distracting from her beauty.

Yes, you heard me. I think Cindi’s beautiful.

Very beautiful.

“So….our friendship isn’t just based on sex?”

“That’s right. Not just sex.”

“But, we…uh, haven’t actually had sex yet.”

Pause.

A wicked grin flashes across her face. Almost instantaneously, Cindi rises from her chair, walks over to my side of the table, picks me up with her strong arms like a baby, kisses me passionately on the lips and carries me upstairs to her bedroom.

“Let’s change that.”

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Ten – Monday Morning Blues

Good God. Is it Monday already?

I look at my alarm clock and see it is 4:58 a.m. I turn it off before it decides to ring.

Shit. Garfield the cat is right. Mondays do suck.

My shift at Wellford Fitness Center starts at 6 a.m., which is when the gym opens to the public. That means I have to wake up at 5 a.m. to give myself enough time to eat breakfast and get some coffee in me.

I usually make my own coffee. Today is no exception. I only buy already-brewed coffee on Sunday mornings when I make my weekly trek across the street to D’Angelo’s Café. This is partly the reason why I didn’t order anything at the espresso bar when I first met Cindi. Why pay two dollars for coffee that I could make for myself at a much cheaper price?

After a hearty breakfast of Wheaties and a bagel with cream cheese, I chase down a cup of iced coffee (I’m too lazy to heat it up in the microwave) and head out the door.

Five minutes later I enter through the back door and put on my dark red Wellford Fitness Center t-shirt that’s sitting in my employee locker. Believe it or not, the company gives us four pairs of these shirts in order to prevent us from wearing the same shirt all week. I think this is a good policy. Gyms smell bad enough. We don’t want the foul stench of employees making things worse.

I usually feel a bit depressed on Monday mornings (who doesn’t?), but today I’m feeling especially down-trodden considering my week ahead. I have five whole days before I see the Goddess Cindi again. I wonder what time she gets up every morning to start her workout? Is she an early riser, or does she workout in the afternoons/evenings? I should ask her the next time I see her.

It is my turn today to man the front desk. I’m in charge of the front desk from 6 to 9 a.m. From 9 to noon I clean and do laundry (we provide workout towels for everyone).

As the clock approaches 6 a.m., I see our first customer of the day show up. And right on schedule. It’s Dale, a 40-something businessman who’s always here right when we open. Dale and his wife are both former college athletes who have raised two ridiculously athletic children. Their daughter is currently training for the Olympics as a gymnast and their older son is a high school track star. No big deal.

I unlock the front door at the stroke of 6 and let Dale in, who waits outside patiently like always.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning to you, Ryan.”

I scan his membership card and he strolls toward the locker rooms. Next I see Frances, an elderly 80-something woman who does water aerobics every morning. The class doesn’t start until 7, but she likes to be here early so she can read the newspaper before her workout.

“Hi Frances. How are the grandchildren?”

“They’re rude and they don’t listen,” she sheepishly says. I scan her membership card and wisely choose not to ask any more questions. She’s always in a pissy mood. But she seems to have a positive relationship with her grandchildren, so I’m a little taken aback that she thinks they’re rude and don’t listen.

Us whippersnappers are a real pain in the butt, aren’t we?

“Have a good workout,” I tell her as she leaves.

Frances doesn’t respond.

Somehow, my feelings aren’t hurt. My heart will go on.

Minutes later more people start to come in large groups. We’re talking people ranging from the very old to people my age looking to become as buff as possible. Try as they might, but they’ll never have anything on my Cindi. She’s buffer than anyone on the planet.

“My” Cindi? Am I claiming ownership over her? She should claim ownership over ME. She deserves that much.

As it approaches 7:30, the gym finally becomes lively with the noises of chit chat, treadmills running at full blast, the clank of 45-pound metal plates rubbing against each other and the usually grunts and groans of people getting a quality workout.

My mind starts to wander. What is Cindi doing right now? She’s definitely at the gym. She has to be. If she works out early on a Sunday morning, there’s no reason why she wouldn’t be at the gym earlier on a Monday morning.

“This sucks,” I tell myself out loud. It sucks that I have to wait five days before I can see her again. God, she’s like a drug. I’ve only met her once and I’m already at the stage where I can’t get her out of my mind.

Cindi North, you Beautiful Muscular Temptress. You’ve cast a spell on me. And I like it. A lot.

I giggle when I think about our first sexual encounter together. I totally prematurely ejaculated all over her face. I was humiliated at the time, but I can laugh at it now. It’s true when they say that time heals all wounds. But everything was totally worth it when she performed oral sex on me later. That felt divine. Absolutely divine. And I got to come on her eight-pack abdominal muscles. That was ridiculously hot.

I continue to daydream until I hear a woman’s voice call out to me.

“Excuse me, sir. Uh, excuse me?”

I immediately wake up from my mini-daydream.

“Uh, sorry. What is it? How may I help you?”

I look at the woman speaking to me and I almost stop breathing when I see her.

Hot damn.

She’s a young black woman who looks to be anywhere between 25 and 30. She’s fairly tall, maybe between 5’10” and 6”. She’s wearing a bright pink sports bra and a matching pair of tight spandex shorts that leaves nothing to the imagination. She has very dark skin that looks as black as night and as smooth as silk. Her angular face looks very exotic and unbelievably beautiful. I’m not a world-renowned traveler, but there’s something in her look and in her voice that tells me she wasn’t born in this country. I don’t know. But she’s simply gorgeous.

“I’m new in town and I have a free one-week pass. Do I give this to you?” she asks politely.

Her voice does sound like it has a slight African accent to it. I struggle to look at her face once I take a peek at her large, plump, bountiful breasts. Unlike Cindi, this woman has breasts. And very enticing. I want to squeeze them right now. But that would get me fired.

“Yes, you can give that to me. Can I see it?”

She hands it to me and I see that it’s legit.

“Alright, this is good for exactly one week, so it expires next Monday. Let me scan it for you.” I scan it and give it back to her. I take a quick look at her midriff and see she has a modest four-pack of abs developing. After I scan her paper card I look at the computer and see her name is Monifa Okendu. That’s a name you don’t hear too often around here.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Alright, have you ever been here before, Monifa?”

“No. I just moved here yesterday morning.”

“Oh! Welcome into town. Where are you originally from?”

“Ethiopia. But I’ve lived in New York City for the past three years.”

“In that case, welcome to Seattle. Would you like someone to give you a tour of our facility? I can ask a staff person to show you around.”

“Thank you, but no thanks. I think I can find everything I need just fine.”

“Alright. The women’s locker room is on the opposite side of the men’s locker room to your left. You will have to provide your own locks, however. Did you bring your own today?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It’s wise to do whatever you can to prevent against theft. We’re usually pretty good around here, but you never know. So, we offer workout towels for all our clients, including guests. Just drop them off in this box after you’re finished. Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention. Guests are allowed to attend all the classes we offer except for the advanced ones. Here’s a brochure explaining everything we offer here.”

I hand her a brochure and she puts it in her gym bag. Her toned arms look delicious.

“Thank you very much. You’ve been very helpful. What’s your name?”

“My name is Ryan. Enjoy your workout, Monifa.”

With that, Monifa turns around and walks toward the locker rooms. I take a look at her butt as she leaves. Holy mackerel! Lush, ample, perfectly rounded and taut, she nearly competes with Cindi’s impeccable derriere, but not quite. No one can compare to Goddess Cindi.

Well, that Monifa is quite a physical specimen! I hope she chooses to work out here long-term. That would make my mornings a lot easier to bear.

Just when I thought my morning got a little better, I look outside and see it has begun to rain. Hard. I mean, pouring down rain. Cats and dogs. Sheesh. Typical Seattle weather. Whenever a Monday seems to become somewhat tolerable, Mother Nature finds a way to slap you in the face and bring you back to reality.

The rest of my morning passes without a hitch. Nothing too spectacular. Later when I return to the front desk to pick up the box of dirty towels, I catch a peek of Monifa (whose bright pink and revealing outfit is extremely hard to miss) deadlifting what looks to be about 135 pounds, which is the metal bar plus a 45-pound plate on both sides. Not bad. It’s not quite the 500 pounds that Cindi can do, but that’s pretty darn impressive for a woman.

Wow, will Cindi ever leave my mind? Not for a long time, let me tell you.

As I walk into the laundry room I bump into Michelle, the ridiculously cute receptionist/personal trainer who works here.

“Hi Michelle. How many clients do you have today?”

“Only three. But they’re real clients, not the fake ones I’m usually stuck with.”

“You mean real athletes?”

“Yeah. One girl plays high school volleyball. Another girl wants to be a competitive figure model. And the other is a lady who’s determined to lose all her baby fat before Thanksgiving.”

“Before Thanksgiving? She better get on it. That’ll be here sooner than you think.”

“Well, she seems determined enough. See you around, sugar.”

Michelle, wearing a black Wellford Fitness Center sports bra and tight black shorts (not unlike what Monifa is wearing today), takes a swig from her coffee tumbler and goes into the workout area, leaving me alone holding a box of smelly towels. Dear God, these reek. Holy shit. If I don’t load these into the machine right away, I might just barf.

Ugg!

Oh, and by the way, Michelle usually calls every guy she knows “sugar,” so don’t get too excited on my behalf.

“That Monifa looks like she could become a competitive figure model,” I say to myself.

Loading the towels into a washing machine, I (for some really odd reason) start to think about Sam’s job offer he talked about yesterday. How would I like to be a drug dealer for the rich and wealthy? It would be easy money, these are people who don’t typically get involved in random street shootings and if I ever get caught, they could use their power and influence to get me off without any trouble. I mean, they’d do that, right?

And depending on what kind of drugs I’d be dealing, I might be able to meet more FBBs like Cindi North. Steroids and other human growth hormones are considered drugs, right?

But I’d never be able to meet another woman quite like Cindi. She’s a statuesque Goddess. But if women like her exist, there should be others like her. That makes sense. And I seriously don’t want to work here for the rest of my life. These smelly towels can always be washed by someone without a college degree.

I hope I’m not sounding too elitist.

But I digress. Sam and his buddies probably aren’t the type of people I want to associate myself with on a regular basis. I’d much rather hang out with Cindi and make love to her. Hell, who wouldn’t?

The thought of making love to a celestial muscle Goddess like Cindi is enough to carry me through the rest of the day.

What’s So Alluring About Female Bodybuilders?

Here’s a question that might be on some of your minds:

So, Ryan: Why are you so into female bodybuilders?

As any reader of my blog can attest to, the subject of female bodybuilding is very prevalent in “The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi” fiction series. The central character, Ryan Takahashi, is engaging in a budding romantic relationship with Cindi North, a fictitious female bodybuilder who exemplifies all the fetishistic qualities of a superhuman woman.

She’s tall (described as being 6 foot 4 inches).

She’s thick.

She has bulging muscles all over her body (her biceps are compared to cantaloupes).

She possesses strength that many male bodybuilders cannot attain.

These are all qualities not normally associated with “average” women. And society tends not to put these types of women on a pedestal. We tend to prefer our females not to look like she could bend steel with her bare hands or play defensive end in the NFL.

So…what’s so alluring about female bodybuilders? Why am I, your humble blogger living in Seattle (or at least, a suburb of Seattle), so obsessed and attracted to female bodybuilders? What’s my deal? Am I some freak? Did my parents raise me wrong? Do I have a messed up relationship with my mother?

The answer is, quite frankly, no. I am not a freak. My parents raised me just fine. And I regularly go to church with my mother on Sunday mornings. I’m pretty normal, outside of me being Japanese-American, which is a group of people you don’t meet very often.

To answer your question, here are my top five reasons why I’m attracted to female bodybuilders:

1. Muscle is sexy

From the times of ancient Greece to today, people with muscles have traditionally been revered for their strength, agility, physical superiority, hard work, dedication and aesthetic. From Michelangelo’s David, to the mythical character of Hercules, to modern day professional athletes, muscle has always been sexy.

Hard, ripped muscles convey all the qualities listed above. Strength means power. Hard work and dedication are positive characteristics valued by every society throughout time. And, of course, there’s the aesthetic aspect to it. Muscles catch our eye because they tell us this person has taken the time to improve themselves. This puts them on a higher level than the rest of us. We can trust them to do any of the “heavy lifting” needed by our society.

Victoria Dominguez, a.k.a. “Mistress Treasure.”

However, historically muscled supermen have been just that: men. Women very rarely have been valued for their physical strength. In addition to sexism (a subject that is beyond the scope of this essay), there might be a biological explanation.

It is no mystery that women are not as naturally strong as men. This brings me to my next point.

2. Muscular women boldly break stereotypes and cultural expectations

Because women are not expected to be as strong as men, what’s there not to like about those few brave women who aim to shatter these expectations?

This is probably why a lot of men are repulsed, disgusted or offended by women with muscles. They make them feel weak, emasculated and less of a man. If a woman has bigger biceps than you, what does that say about you? Our culture would say you’re puny and not worthy of your “man” status.

As I write this, the 2012 London Olympics is happening. This is a time when hundreds of millions of people around the globe (apparently, 1 billion people watched the Opening Ceremony) are seeing right in their homes a multitude of young men and women in the prime physical condition of their lives. This is when women with muscles (and other amazing physical abilities) are showcased like never before. And this has caused some cultural clashes.

Some Internet trolls are calling these women “gross,” “man-like” and any other hurtful labels. These are not women who aspire to be men. These are women who aspire to be great.

Deidre Pagnanelli. She’s in her 40s and has 4 kids. Impressed?

While bodybuilding is not an Olympic sport, female bodybuilders nevertheless are also vulnerable to these kinds of verbal attacks, even if it’s at a smaller scale. But they persevere and boldly break these social stereotypes with no shame, embarrassment or second-guessing. Though I’ve never met an FBB, I’m going to guess a majority of them are not doing what they do to emasculate men. They’re doing it to raise the bar for their fellow women.

There’s something to admire about those who are fearless about shattering stereotypes and defying cultural expectations. Do women belong in the kitchen? Hell no! They belong in the gym, pumping iron to become as strong as they can possibly be.

3. Female bodybuilders earn their beauty

Not all of us are born with the genetic material necessary to become a supermodel. Not all of us, even with the graces of Photoshop and other digital image editing software, have what it takes to be featured on the cover of magazines.

Essentially, beauty (or, our personal and collective standards of beauty) is something you are born with. No amount of cosmetic surgery will make you more beautiful than the limitations of what you are given (we all know how off-putting it is to see someone who has had a little too much work done. It can, ironically, make them look less attractive).

But this is not true with female bodybuilders.

Bodybuilding is a sport unlike any other sport. Winners of bodybuilding competitions win because of their aesthetic appeal more than their ability to shoot a basketball, catch a football or hit a baseball. They are judged by their size, shape, symmetry and presentability.

In this regard, female bodybuilders earn their beauty. Even if they are not born with a naturally beautiful face, they have direct control over the look of the rest of their body. No one can control what their face looks like, but everyone can control the appearance of their quadriceps, biceps, triceps, pecs, abs and other muscle groups.

To put it in another way, female bodybuilders redefine their beauty by creating their own personal standards of beauty.

And this is something to admire. How many of us genuinely admire a gorgeous supermodel? We brush them off and say things like, “They’re only rich and famous because of the way they look.” Unfortunately, this perspective has some truth to it. Gorgeous people are born gorgeous. But nobody is born with ripped muscles.

I respect a female bodybuilder’s beauty because she has earned it through years of training, long hours of hard work, radically changing her diet, sacrificing her personal comfort for the sake of making her body strong and investing a large chunk of her free time toward achieving her lofty goals.

She has my respect because she deserves her beauty; nothing was given to her for free. There’s nothing sexier than a woman whose beauty comes from her relentless pursuit of perfection through excruciatingly hard work, not a surgeon’s knife.

4. Female bodybuilders treat their bodies like a piece of art

While bodybuilding is technically a sport, one could also argue it is an art. Like traditional athletes, bodybuilders train endlessly to perfect their craft in the name of competition. However, unlike football or hockey players, bodybuilders are more concerned by how they look versus how well they can outmaneuver a cornerback or slap a puck past a goalie.

Bodybuilders willingly put themselves in a position where they are judged by their looks. As a society, we already judge women by their looks, so it must take extra courage for a woman to put herself in a situation where not only is she judged by her looks, but she’s judged by standards that are far outside the norm.

Which brings us to the concept of “art:”

Painters have their canvases, brushes and paints. Musicians have their instruments. Singers have their voices. Writers have their pens and imagination. Sculptors have their clay. Bodybuilders have….their body.

For a woman to put herself in that vulnerable of a position, where she is outwardly judged by her looks while shattering our typical conventions of “femininity,” takes guts that must border on obsession. Her chiseled look doesn’t happen by accident. It’s all a product of her taking a pro-active stance on how she wants to live her life.

Sounds like an artist, doesn’t it? The mindset of a female bodybuilder is no different from Ernest Hemingway, Salvador Dali, William Shakespeare or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Their dedication takes on a life of its own. She must sacrifice more than most of us are willing to sacrifice in order to make her body look the way she wants it.

Sounds very artistic, doesn’t it?

A true artist should strive for perfection even if the general public considers their work to be just fine. A true artist should never be satisfied with their art, as they are perpetually searching for the “truth” in their art. The French poet Paul Valery once said “A poem is never finished, only abandoned.”

Lisa Cross — Miss Cross is one of my favorites. She’s beautiful, muscular and British. What’s there not to like?

Likewise, even on the day of a competition, a female bodybuilder’s body is never finished; it is always a work in progress. That day happens to be the day that people will finally judge her.

Like any astute art critic, may they judge her harshly but fairly.

5. The concept of a female bodybuilder is both intellectually and sexually arousing

Aren’t women supposed to be the weaker sex?

If you’re a female bodybuilder, the answer is a resounding “NO!”

But, alas, society at large still views women as weaker and frailer compared to their male counterparts. Generally, they’re shorter, smaller in stature and have less muscle mass. In short, they ARE the weaker sex.

Biologically speaking, none of this can be proven false. This is why the concept of a female bodybuilder is both intellectually and sexually exciting.

A woman who takes it upon herself to make herself strong definitely has my vote of confidence. I’d vote for her if she ran for president. It takes a strong mind to want to prove the entirety of human history to be wrong. It takes an even stronger mind to actually go out and do it.

By defying our entire paradigm of maleness vs. femaleness, she seeks to redefine her identity by tearing down the status quo. Or does she?

Female bodybuilders are often at odds with society because they are expected to exhibit many cultural dualities: She must be strong, but nurturing; she must be muscular, but feminine; she must be tough, but not “unlady-like;” she must be as strong as a man, but not emasculate him. In other words, she must walk that fine (and impossible) line between being strong and being a woman.

Colette Nelson’s chest is out of this world. And I’m not referring to her breasts!

Often female bodybuilders are automatically accused of being lesbians. While plenty of professional bodybuilders (and figure and fitness competitors) are lesbians, a lot of them are not. Many of them are married to a man. Some have children. Some have many children. Some compete professionally, take some time off to become a mother, and resume her bodybuilding career once her children become old enough.

An FBB is always juggling multiple social and internal pressures that are nearly impossible to balance. She must do what she does because she wants to do it. There will always be people out there who say she is “becoming a man” or “compromising her femininity.”

No wonder why you need the heart of a poet to put yourself through all this agony!

And this is why female bodybuilders are so sexually exciting. In addition to looking visually stunning, their open defiance of our culture’s expectations of “femaleness” should make them popular to any anti-establishment, pro-freedom intellectual.

I find female bodybuilders alluring because by lifting weights, they are saying “FUCK YOU” to society (even if they don’t consciously carry around this negative attitude).

So go for it, honey. Pump those weights. Don’t be ashamed to drip with gallons of sweat after a grueling work out. Drink those protein shakes. Do what it takes to make your muscles huge.

Become as beautiful as you can be.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Eight – My Small Asian Penis

“Please don’t get me wrong, Ryan. I love your body. You have a very nice body.” Cindi assures me.

I sense a “but” somewhere.

“Thank you, Cindi. But I think you’ve just let the cat out of the bag.”

Cindi strokes my thigh and works up to my scrotum. I think now is the best time to talk about something like this. And believe it or not, we still haven’t had “sex” yet. Am I still a virgin, or does oral sex count as actual sex (insert your own presidential joke here)?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re small down there. I’m serious.”

“Look, you don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t think I’m tiny, but I know for a fact that I’m not big. You at least have to admit that.”

Cindi kisses me on the shoulder and starts to rub up and down my flaccid shaft. It shows no signs of life.

“Let’s not talk about this.”

“I sort of…do want to talk about this. It’s a major insecurity of mine.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. We’ve all heard the stereotype, right?”

I look straight into Cindi’s dark black eyes. She stops stroking me and understands this is a “serious” conversation. Cindi sighs.

“That Asian men have small penises?”

“Yes. That stereotype.”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Very much. It hurts deeply. But not in a way that makes me angry. In a way that makes me feel…less of a man.”

This revelation causes Cindi to hug me tightly. The feel of her strong arms wrapping around my body sends shivers down my spine. I wonder if she can feel that.

“You’re a man. There’s no doubt about it. You’re definitely a man. You’re more of a man than a lot of men I’ve met.”

“Really? How so?”

“I’ve met hundreds of male bodybuilders in my life. Most of them are very nice, but some can be total douchebags. When I work out at the gym, I hear what guys talk about. There’s so much sexism in weight rooms.”

I nod my head in agreement. “Tell me about it. At the gym I work at, I meet tons of guys who are total jerks. I don’t talk to them.”

Cindi massages my shoulders with her strong hands. I feel my penis start to come to life, but I still need some more time.

“But you’re different, Ryan. You’re kind, respectful, smart, funny and the total opposite of a douchebag.”

“Thank you. I try to be nice.”

“That’s why I invited you up here to my home. That’s why I felt comfortable to take you to my bed. From the moment I saw you at the coffee shop, you looked like a nice boy. You’re someone I can talk to without having to be someone else.”

“Someone else? Who else can you be?”

“It’s complicated, but for a female bodybuilder like me, you have to take on several personalities. You have to be strong, but feminine. You have to be tough, but nurturing. You have to be muscular, but still sexy. You have to be strong-willed, but still approachable. That sort of thing.”

“Is there a lot of pressure for FBBs to act a certain way?”

The question causes Cindi to fall to her back and stretch out. The sight of her eight-pack abs lying right beside me is enough to make my penis half-engorged.

“Oh, I could write a whole book on that subject. We’ll save that for another day.”

Cindi releases another sigh and I lie down on my side and stroke her abs. I admire her chiseled body like it’s a piece of valuable art. As far as I’m concerned, her body is art.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Cindi?”

She purrs like a cat as I stroke her tummy. I think she appreciates my appreciation of all her long, hard hours working out at the gym.

“Go for it. In this room, there are no such things as personal questions. This is a no-bullshit zone.”

“Alright.” I let out a sigh of my own. “Does size really matter?”

The look on Cindi’s face changes from mellow to full-of-concern. It appears she’s struggling to find the proper words to answer my question.

“Honestly?”

“Yes. Honestly. I want to know your opinion.”

Silence.

“For me, size does matter,” Cindi finally says.

My mouth forms a defensive smile. Inside I feel like I want to scream bloody murder.

“Really?”

Cindi gets up and wraps her muscular arms around me again. She kisses my shoulder again (this is a move she’s done a few times before. What’s with her and kissing shoulders?)

“Yeah. Size does matter for me. Do you want to know more?”

“Yes. As unusual as that sounds, I do want to know more. Do you not want to share?”

“No, no. I have nothing to hide. I’m perfectly willing to share anything. Well, I’ve had many sex partners, both men and women. As far as men are concerned, the best sex I’ve ever had was with men who were, more, uh, better endowed.”

“Uh huh.” This is my cue for her to continue speaking. She takes the hint.

“One lover of mine, his name was Jake, was a fellow bodybuilder. He was a natural bodybuilder who competed at a lot of the same shows as me. We became casual friends after a few encounters and quickly became lovers. He was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. He was tall, muscular, handsome as a movie star and gentle as a can be. We made love constantly.”

“How long were you in a relationship with him?”

“A long time. About eleven years. He’s the father of my third child.”

“Were you close to marrying him?”

“Very close. We were briefly engaged, before I caught him with another woman. His ex. Apparently, he hadn’t completely gotten over her. That was eleven years down the drain.”

“But you had a child with him.”

“True, so I suppose there were benefits. But he was a beautiful man, even though he broke my heart.”

I quickly change the subject.

“So…he was a good lover?”

“Yes! He was obviously beautifully built, but even more impressive was his penis. God, it was gorgeous. That penis was a work of art.”

“How big was it?”

“We measured him one time. Fully erect, he was seven and a half inches long.”

Seven and a half inches long? Holy shit!!!

“That’s…big. Very big. I’m not nearly as big.”

Ironically, it was at this moment that my erection returned. Right on schedule. Cindi sees it and strokes it tenderly. What was she thinking as she stroked my small penis? Was she longing for the days when Jake was ramming his mammoth manhood into her?

“Don’t worry about that. You’re fine. Just fine.”

“How do you know? We haven’t had sex yet.”

Cindi kisses me on the lips and cups my face. She looks directly into my eyes.

“Darling, don’t compare yourself to others. Ever. You’re a beautiful man, regardless of how you measure up to other guys. Size isn’t the only thing that’s important during sex.”

Size isn’t the only thing that matters? Was she being serious or was she lying? I had to know.

“What else is important?”

Sensing my insecurity, Cindi kisses my neck (wow, she can kiss me all day and I’d never complain!) before she speaks. Her face expresses concern, respect and oddly, love.

“First, love has to be there. And I don’t necessarily mean love between life partners, or soul mates, or anything like that. Love between two people.”

“Do you sense that type of love between us?”

“Strangely enough, yes I do. I do sense a certain type of love between us. Do you respect me?”

“I have nothing but respect for you.”

“Good. I respect you as well. Do you want me to be happy?”

“Everyone deserves happiness.”

“Great. I want you to be happy too.”

I kiss her lips. She kisses me back. Her left hand strokes my penis as her right hand interlocks with mine. My free hand starts to rub her enormous clitoris.

“In that case, we do love each other. We’re lovers.”

I laugh. “That’s funny considering we just met each other.”

“It is funny, but do you feel that special feeling for me?”

I think about it for a moment. The more I thought about it, the more I understood what she was saying. I do feel a degree of affection for her. Cindi North, a female bodybuilder, is a woman I am falling in love with. How can this be?

“Yes, I feel that special feeling toward you. Lover.”

Maybe it was the way I said the word “lover,” but Cindi looks very touched and a single tear falls down her cheek. I wipe it away and taste it. She tastes sweet.

“I want to make love to you, Cindi,” I whisper in her ear.

Did I just say that? Did that just come out of my mouth? As if she’d just been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer, Cindi kisses me on the cheek and stands up.

“Not tonight. Not tonight. Maybe next time,” she says.

“Did I do something wrong?” I feebly ask.

“No, not at all. I just think we should hold off on that until later. It’s just that…we’ve done enough for one night. We don’t want to use up all our tricks at once, right?”

I ponder about what she’s telling me. If she’s implying that there’s going to be a “later,” does that mean she likes me? Or at the very least, does this mean she tolerates me and wants to see me again? And why did she just suddenly get up? Is she falling in love with me too? I’m starting to have feelings for her, which makes no sense. We just met. Life can be so complicated!

“Do you want to see me again?” I meekly ask her.

She grins.

“The better question is: do you want to see me again?” she replies.

“Yes, Cindi. No doubt about it. I definitely want to see you again!”

“Good,” Cindi says, getting up and putting on her panties. It’s amazing how such a small piece of clothing can fit around her enormously tight butt. “I have to be at the gym tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp. My weight training partner will be waiting for me.”

I take the hint and start to put my clothes back on. I marvel at Cindi as she stretches in front of a tall mirror. The marvelous structure of her amazing body will never get old to look at. I could stare at her lovely figure all day if I could. But, alas, my time tonight has come to an end.

“Who’s your training partner?”

“One of my best friends. Her name is Julie.”

“Is she the one who took the picture of you at the beach?”

“You mean the photo I sent you? Yes, she did. How’d you know?”

“A wild guess,” I say, now fully dressed. Cindi puts on a white silk bathrobe and escorts me out the door. My erection subsides.

As we walk down the stairs, I look up at a clock and see it’s nearing 11 p.m. Gee, where did the time go? Cindi takes me back to the living room and turns toward me.

“Did you have a good time?” she asks.

“Despite my, uh, unflattering beginning, yes. I did have a good time. Did you?”

“I had a great time. It’s been a while since a man has pleased me orally.”

“When was the last time a woman pleased you orally?” I ask jokingly.

Cindi laughs and snorts. She’s cute when she snorts, I’ve decided.

“You’d be surprised, Ryan honey. Do you need help finding your way home?”

“Nah, I can figure it out on my own. It’s just a bunch of backtracking.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment. We both know what needs to come next. Finally, she speaks.

“Do you want to come back here next Saturday night? You can come earlier and we could do dinner. I’ll make something nice and healthy.”

“Yes! That sounds great. When would be a good time?”

“Oh, I usually finish my Saturday workout at 4ish, so how about 5 o’clock? You can bring a bottle of wine. That could be your contribution.”

“A bottle of wine. I can handle that. I’ll be here right on the dot.”

“Great. I’ll see you then. Good night, Ryan,” she says, pecking me on the cheek.

I lean over, look up at her (remember, Cindi’s well over six feet tall) and kiss her back on the lips. The kiss lingers for a long time, as if it’s an expression of gratitude more than a way of saying good bye. Our lips come apart and I walk out the door toward my car.

Every single memory of what just transpired during the last few hours rush back to me. I don’t think I’ll be able to fully comprehend what I just experienced until tomorrow morning. I return to my car, start the engine and look back to see Cindi waving at me. I wave back as I drive off toward I-5. My evening with Cindi North has just come to an end.

And what a night it was.

The drive home did not take long. I drive carefully, seeing numerous cop cars on patrol looking for drunks. Finally, I reach my apartment and release a deep sigh as I close the door. I really need a shower. Badly. All that oral sex made me sweat bullets. I probably lost a lot of weight between sweating in anticipation, sweating during our bedroom time and my two ejaculations. Holy shit. Did all that just happen to me?

After turning on the hot water I undress and look down at my penis. My small Asian penis. I look at it not with scorn or embarrassment (as I would in a gym locker room), but with pride. Hell, my little penis was inside a strong, muscular woman’s mouth not too long ago. That’s quite an accomplishment for someone who’s still technically a virgin (I guess you need to do the whole “vaginal penetration” thing before you officially lose your virginity). Tonight, I look at my small penis proudly.

“We did it, little buddy. Maybe not all the way, but it’s a great start. We did it.”

I hop into the shower, clean myself, dry off, brush my teeth and collapse into bed. I must have fallen asleep instantly because I don’t remember much after that.

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 One – A Friday Night on Craigslist

It was a dream come true.

There it was, right in front of me on Craigslist. A personal ad that was almost too good to be true. So good, I’m almost positive it’s a joke.

Nothing could be this perfect. Nothing at all. This was the equivalency of a billion dollars falling from the sky and landing right in my lap with no one around to fight me for it. Heck, this was WAY better than that.

The ad reads:

“FBB seeking young Asian male for a night of NSA sex. Please send pic of yourself and I will send you a pic right back.”

If my knowledge of acronyms is correct, “FBB” stands for “female bodybuilder” and “NSA” stands for “no strings attached” (it also stands for “National Security Agency,” but somehow I doubt this has anything to do with protecting the home front).

So there you have it. Supposedly, there is a female bodybuilder in my area who’s specifically looking for a young Asian male for a night of no strings attached sex. This is too good to be true (I think I’ve said this before). This is just like a billion boxes of take-out teriyaki falling from the sky and not a single person around to laugh at this horrible stereotype.

So here I sit at my computer desk reading this particular Craigslist ad on a Friday evening. The time is currently 7:21 p.m. I decide to respond to the ad.

There’s a photo of me that my mom took last month during our family vacation to Hawaii. It has me with my shirt off wearing a swimsuit. I think I look fairly decent in it, so this will do. I’ll omit the fact that my mom took it. I don’t think women find that particularly flattering in a man.

My name is Ryan Takahashi. I’m 23 years old and a recent college graduate still looking for a full-time job. I have a part-time job as a janitor at a gym; a position quite suited for someone with a degree in history (please note my sarcasm). If this woman is local, it’s possible I may have seen her at the gym. But that seems doubtful. I haven’t seen any female bodybuilders there. I’ve seen some guys who look like bodybuilders, but none of the female persuasion. Maybe she works out somewhere else.

Or maybe she’s lying. Maybe “she” is some teenage kid who thinks it’ll be funny to pose as a muscular lady to entice some poor schmuck like me into sending them a tacky-looking photo. I sure hope not.

Here’s what my e-mail message to this woman looks like:

Dear FBB,

My name is Ryan and I am responding to your Craigslist ad. I am a 23-year-old Japanese American male who is single and ready to meet someone new. You sound like an interesting person judging from your ad and your specific needs. I’ve attached a photograph of myself that I hope shows off what I look like. I hope I fit what a woman like you is looking for in a man.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Ryan

This sounds genuine enough. I tell her just enough about myself and don’t sound desperate. I refer to her as a “woman” instead of a “girl,” something that should score huge points for me. If I learned one thing in college, it’s that in our post-feminist society, calling an adult woman a “girl” is a sure ticket to being labeled as a misogynist (or some other similar euphemism). I guess I’m more aware of these things than most people.

Now all I have to do is click “send.”

Deep breath. Calm down, Ryan. What’s the worst that could happen? You’re using an alternate e-mail account separate from your personal one. If she’s a fraud, so what? Just don’t give her your bank account number. If she thinks you’re butt ugly, move on and pretend like this never happened. Drink a few shots of whiskey and call it a night. There’s no pressure in clicking “send.”

Whew.

Here goes nothing.

Click.

Your Message Has Been Sent.

Bingo.

Now the waiting game begins. What should I do?

Play video games? Jog around the block a few times? Take a shower? Watch something on Netflix? Waste time on YouTube? Explore what’s on Technorati? I could read a book.

Wow. Books. There’s something I haven’t picked up in a while. And that’s embarrassing considering I’m a history major. Maybe this explains why I work at a dead-end part-time job doing work they mostly give to people who can’t speak English. Maybe the hiring manager assumed English was my second language. That’s probably it. Bastard.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” I say out loud to myself.

I get up and push my chair into my desk. I strip naked and dump my clothes in front of my bed. I then walk into the bathroom, turn on the ceiling fan and look at myself in the full-body mirror.

Looking good, Ryan. Looking good.

“Does this female bodybuilder have a better body than me? Ha. It’s doubtful,” I say sarcastically to my reflection. My reflection seems to be in on the joke.

Thinking about the possibility of having sex with an FBB is enough to give me an erection. My penis slowly grows and stands upright at attention. I look down at my little penis that’s decided to come to life. Cute little thing. Will you get any action in the near future? We’ll see.

Dear God, having sex with an FBB would be awesome! Just imagine licking those big, hard bulging muscles while her thick, massive body surrounds me like a blanket. Then she lifts me up and plops me onto the bed as she goes down on me like a wild animal. Her massive body grinds into me like a bulldozer. Her wet vagina and enlarged clitoris enveloping my penis unmercifully. Her vaginal muscles are so strong I can feel her climax from head to toe. Her-

“I should probably take this shower before I come all over the floor.”

I turn on the hot water, close the shower curtains and clean off the grime of the day.

During my shower all I can think about is whether this mysterious Craigslist character will respond. Will it be some lame automatic response that clearly isn’t a real person? That would suck big time. Or will it be written in broken English by someone who doesn’t even live in the United States? That would also suck. I hope I don’t have to wait until tomorrow evening. Or next week. That would suck even more.

After my shower I choose not to put on my clothes and instead walk around completely naked. I love doing this after a shower. My body feels clean and I want to go about the rest of my business in my birthday suit. It can be a very liberating feeling.

As I began to wash some of the dishes in my sink, I hear a “ding” sound from my computer. This sound means I have a new e-mail in my inbox.

Holy crap! It could be her!

I placed the dishes back into the sink and race toward my computer. Sure enough, I do have a new e-mail message. There’s no subject line. And it’s from a “Cindi North.”

Cindi North? Never heard of this woman. My heart rate increases rapidly as I open her message.

Her e-mail reads as follows:

Dear Ryan,

I’m glad you responded to my Craigslist message! My name is Cindi and I would love to chat with you online sometime! I can’t tonight because I’m going to be busy early tomorrow morning, but if you could be on Gmail at 8:00 tomorrow night, we could get to know each other.

Hugs and kisses. XOXO

Thank you for sending me a pic. You look very handsome. Here’s a pic of me also at the beach. Enjoy! Good night, Ryan.

Love,

Cindi

P.S.: Are you married? I hope you’re not. I don’t like drama.

She seems nice. And the message seems like it was written by a real person, not a computerized program. Now I have to open her photo.

Catching my breath, I hover the mouse over the JPEG photo and click on it.

The image opens in a new window and fills nearly the entire screen. I look at it eagerly.

Damn.

No, seriously. Damn.

Damn.

Damn!

DAMN!!!

DAAAAAAAAAAAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She’s gorgeous! And very muscular! She’s perfect! There’s no doubt she’s an FBB.

Looking at her photo literally steals my breath. I take a deep inhale, exhale and look at the picture again.

She’s wearing sunglasses and a skimpy red bikini. She’s standing on a white sandy beach on a perfect sunny day. I can’t tell where she is, but she is the only person in the photo. It’s difficult to say how tall she is because there’s no one around to compare her with. She looks anywhere between 5’3” and 5’8”. I could be totally wrong about this.

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She has long dark brown hair and tanned skin. She appears to be Caucasian but could have some Hispanic in her. She doesn’t appear to be mixed race, but her tanned skin could be due to being in the sun too long. It’s a full body shot and exposes her entire figure. And what a figure she has!

Her entire body is covered in enormous, bulging muscles. Her biceps look like they could bend steel. Her legs appear to be as thick as tree stumps. Her six-pack abs look delicious and ready for me to stroke my tongue across. She has very small breasts which could be explained by repeated steroid use. She’s fantastically muscular and veiny all over. I like what I’m seeing.

She appears to be in her early 40s, maybe late 30s. Her dark brown hair might have some gray in it, but that could be the sun’s reflection. Then again, she could be coloring her hair. She’s definitely not in her 20s.

This Cindi woman looks very delectable! I would make love to her in an instant. I look down at my penis and see that it has hardened again. This is definitely an image that I can masturbate to in a few minutes. Not only is it hot that I’m looking at her gorgeous figure, but the fact that she just communicated with me is turning me on even more!

This beautiful muscular woman wants to have sex with me and even called me “handsome?”

SWOON!

I like her already.

I immediately turn off all the lights and leave her image on the computer screen. I pull back the covers on my bed and get in. I open my dresser drawer and take out a condom (yes, I keep a stash of condoms for the purposes of masturbation). I rip open the package, take out the condom and wrap it around my very hard penis. I toss the package in the waste basket and start rubbing my penis against the bed facing down. I look up and stare at her picture. I image her buff body pounding into my smaller body as we kiss and explore each other with our hands.

My hips move right to left at a quicker pace and I feel my orgasm build as I continue to grind my penis into the mattress. As I imagine her tongue exploring the inside of my mouth, I climax and feel several strong pulses of semen release from my manhood. My hips slow down and I collapse onto the bed with my face buried into the pillow. I catch my breath. I look up at the computer and still see Cindi’s beautiful body looking back at me. Then my computer goes into the screensaver.

Shit. Oh, well. I’m done anyway.

I get out of bed, turn on the light and pull the condom off my sagging penis. I dispose of it in the toilet, urinate, wash my hands and turn off the lights as I switch off my computer.

I definitely can’t wait for 8 p.m. tomorrow night.

I collapse into bed and immediately fall asleep.

Happy dreams are sure to follow.