Educating Jonathan – Part Two

A woman's bottom. A lovely sight, indeed.
A woman’s bottom. A lovely sight, indeed.

Jonathan loves the way she tastes. Subtle hints of expensive wine mixed with irresistible feminine prowess make for a concoction he cannot get enough of.

“God, make love to me, Jonathan. I need it,” she pleads with him. Samantha rolls on her back and spreads her legs wide, welcoming him to her. Her eyes never leaves his eyes.

His breathing becomes heavy. It’s apparent she’s kept her body in great shape. Long sleek legs, rounded butt, a flat tummy and curvy hips made her an aesthetic treat. Her small, slightly sagging breasts do not distract from her otherwise flawless beauty. Jonathan plans on enjoying every inch of her.

He takes her right nipple into his mouth. She gasps. He sucks hard, caressing his tongue over the sensitive tip. It stands up straight, hardened by Jonathan’s warm wet touch. He wraps his arms around her waist and embraces her tightly. He has no intention of letting her go.

Samantha looks up and closes her eyes, focusing all her attention on the pleasure her new lover is selflessly giving her. By now Jonathan has moved on to her other nipple, lapping it with his tongue languorously. She is thankful for this moment. She is thankful for him.

Her expression of her thanks inspires her to take matters into her own hands. She takes Jonathan’s erect penis into her hand and slowly strokes it up and down. He lets out a gentle moan that only she can hear. She strokes him harder. His mouth releases from her nipple and he kisses her.

“Do you want to end this before it starts?” he teases.

“Why? Are you really that close?” she teases back, fondling his scrotum with her fingertips.

Jonathan looks into her eyes and is captivated by her deep blue irises. Like a calming ocean, her eyes seem like they jump out of her body. Her fingers release from his manhood and they hold hands.

“I like you, Samantha. You’re so damn beautiful. Your skin is so soft. Your eyes are so…”

He pauses. She blushes.

“So what?” she asks.

“…so hypnotizing. It’s like you’re casting a spell on me.” He smiles wryly.

“Hypnotizing? I cast a spell on you? I like that. Are you like my own personal voodoo doll?” She extends a finger and outlines his jaw. Jonathan takes that finger into his mouth and sucks on it suggestively. In response, she groans and moans as if he were giving her an orgasm through her finger. Jonathan laughs, freeing her from his lips.

“You’re silly. Such a silly woman.”

She pauses. This time, he blushes.

“A silly woman? I’m a silly doctor. And don’t you forget it!” Samantha playfully nibbles on his shoulder.

Still not believing his good fortune, Jonathan takes a moment to reflect on this moment. How did he get so lucky to be here, engaging in fun foreplay with a gorgeous and intelligent woman like Dr. Sammy? It’s evident she needs this. It’s obvious she’s craving the touch of a man. She’s desperate to be desired.

And Jonathan is just the man to desire her.

“Enough. I want to make love to you,” he declares.

“Then…” she begins, kissing him on the cheek. “…let’s.”

As he reaches for a condom stuffed in his wallet, Samantha urgently grabs his hand.

“No. We don’t need it.” She looks at him earnestly, a sweet innocence glowing from her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m a woman of a certain age. We don’t need it. Come here, you!” Just like that, she straddles him and tosses Jonathan onto his back. Samantha reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. The room darkens, but the moody glow remains. Outside, the full moon beams a bright stream of light into the bedroom. The rain continues to patter against the windows. He can still see her beautiful face.

Gorgeous downtown Seattle during the evening.
Gorgeous downtown Seattle during the evening.

“I love how trusting you are,” he says.

“Shut up.”

Samantha opens her legs and nudges them against his thighs. She lets out a deep breath. He does the same. They stare into each other’s eyes, realizing this perfect moment will never be this perfect again. They could never replicate the feelings they share at this time, when they are seconds away from joining their bodies in the most intimate way possible.

Jonathan nods. She interprets that as her cue.

It takes a few attempts, but eventually she lowers herself onto Jonathan’s manhood at the proper angle and successfully pushes his penis inside her. A primal moan escapes from them both, a shared moan that can only happen when two lovers are tuned into the moment. Samantha experiments with a few up and down thrusts as she rides him like a cowgirl. Jonathan reaches up and cups her breasts. Insecure about her small size and sagging shape, she tries to forget about her body and enjoy the moment. She’s not young, but she’s still got enough appeal as far as her current lover is concerned.

A groan leaves his throat as her motions grow in their intensity. He still cannot believe she doesn’t want him to wear protection. Is she that trusting of him? Jonathan didn’t think pregnancy would be an issue, but she hardly knows him. How could she possibly know what history he has with other women?

These thoughts exit his mind as they continue to make love. Samantha leans forward and kisses him passionately. She turned off the light partially because of her own insecurity, but also because making love in the dark – lit only by the moonlight – is so damn romantic. At heart, she’s a hopeless romantic. She hopes he is too.

“You feel so good, Samantha…so good.” Jonathan struggles to breathe between her incessant kisses and experiencing the pleasure she’s giving him.

“Thank you.” As she continues to ride him, she focuses on her own pleasure. He isn’t as big as her husband, but Jonathan feels…so right inside her. As if he was always meant to be inside her. As if this 5 and a half inch Asian penis was always meant to please her. In all her research about men’s penises, the conclusion she’s universally found was that a woman’s ability to achieve orgasm during penile-vaginal sex has less to do with the size of the man’s endowment and more about her state of mind. Right now, her state of mind couldn’t be better.

Their breathing gets louder. Samantha feels her orgasm reaching its peak. Jonathan’s hands are still feeling her breasts. Her small size doesn’t bother him. What right does he have to criticize the size of a person’s body part?

Her focus dissolves. His world blurs out of view. She is about to come. He is about to come. They both know the other is close.

“I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you, Samantha.”

Such foolish declarations of love are enough to send both lovers over the edge. Samantha’s orgasm consumes her entire body from head to toe. The pulsating pleasure reverberates out from her vagina and throughout the entire room. Her muscles contract rhythmically, creating music from within her body. Jonathan also comes, carelessly emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and indulges in the sensations his body is giving him. Samantha collapses on top of him and they kiss. Jonathan grabs her butt and pinches her right cheek. She gasps at this sudden action. She responds by tickling his scrotum as the last waves of his ejaculation subsides.

They remain still for what seems like an eternity. Neither speaks. Both breathe loudly. Samantha never wants this moment to end. Jonathan wonders how many more moments like this they will share together.

A beautiful white overcoat Dr. Sammy would have worn.
A beautiful white overcoat Dr. Sammy would have worn.

“That was fun,” Samantha whispers.

Jonathan is left speechless. She prefers it that way.

Several moments later Samantha gets up from the bed and walks to the bathroom. Jonathan can hear her pee. Still dazed from their lovemaking, he turns the bedside lamp back on and looks at the condom jammed in his wallet. He smiles, knowing this little piece of latex wouldn’t be used tonight.

The toilet flushes and minutes later Samantha returns to the bed. She lies down on her stomach and spreads her legs wide. Jonathan is amused that she has the nerve to take up all the room. He playfully pushes her legs off to the side.

“In the heat of the moment, we say some pretty imprudent things,” she observes.

“Are you referring to when we said we loved each other?”

“Yes. I don’t know what came over me. And I have no idea what came over you. Were you just being polite?”

“Polite? More like agreeable. I never want to ruin a good moment. And that was a great moment between the two of us.” Jonathan’s penis returns back to a smaller size. He strokes her naked back, hoping the act of caressing her beautiful body would bring him back in the mood. But for now, he’s perfectly content to massage her skin.

Moments pass. Neither lover has a single care in the world.

“Can I ask you a question, Jonathan?”

“Go ahead.” Jonathan looks at her beautiful face, memorizing every inch of her.

“What if I told you your penis was the greatest penis I’ve ever made love to?”

Wait…what?

Time stops. The Earth ceases to spin on its axis. Hell freezes over.

“Uh, what?” His concentration breaks. Jonathan sits up on the bed. A deep sigh escapes from her. Basking in the sensual glow of her two most recent climaxes, Samantha doesn’t know if what she’s talking about makes any sense. Jonathan doesn’t care. He likes what he’s hearing.

“What I mean is complicated. It’s not what you think,” she says. Jonathan strokes her back as she rolls over on her side. Her breathing calms. She doesn’t look at him but instead fixes her gaze outside the north-facing window.

Bondage. A preview of things to come?
Bondage. A preview of things to come?

“I’ve always admired Asian men. I find them fascinating. I think young men like you are fascinating. I’d love to follow you around for one day and find out everything about you. Do you ever feel oppressed in your everyday life?”

“Oppressed? Gosh, I don’t think so. People have always treated me well.”

Her focus remains on whatever is outside that window. She may be looking outside, but her mind is somewhere else.

“I’m glad to hear that. I really am.” Samantha turns over on her back and peers at her lover.

Jonathan cuddles closer to her and strokes her breasts, teasing her nipples. He leans over and they kiss. She reaches down and fondles his much-discussed penis. Initial feelings of arousal return, but he still needs time to recover from their previous coupling.

“Are you asking whether people make fun of my…penis?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I was getting at. Do people do that?”

“Some do. I’ve been hearing jokes about it since middle school. But what does that have to do with…?” He stops toying with her nipples and kisses her shoulders. Not really wanting to have this discussion right now, Jonathan is doing what he can to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad I was able to do this. I’m glad you were willing to invite me to your apartment tonight. I owe you.” Though she’s not making much sense, Jonathan politely remains silent and listens to her speak.

“This is going to sound weird. I know. But please bear with me for a moment. Have you ever heard of the concept of white guilt?”

“Yes. It’s when…white people feel bad about the crimes their ancestors committed against racial minorities in the past. Right?”

“Right, but it’s a little more complicated than that. But here’s the thing,” she sits up and leans against the bed’s headboard. “I too feel guilty. I feel guilty that our society desexualizes Asian men. I feel terrible that boys like you had to grow up hearing all those awful jokes. It makes me sad to think that the dominant white culture has to emasculate you like that for no apparent reason. Do you follow me?”

Hm. Jonathan certainly did not expect a sociology lesson to break out post-coitus. But he will continue to listen to her soliloquy.

“Yes, I follow you. Go on.”

“So this is my way of apologizing to you and other Asian men out there. I chose to come here for many reasons. You’re smart, handsome, well-spoken, studious and courteous. Not too many college-age men are like that to someone who’s willing to fuck them with no strings attached. But there’s another reason at play here. I feel…empowered to make love to you. It’s empowering to know that I’m giving you an opportunity not too many of your Asian brethren are granted. I feel like I’m making right a past injustice by allowing you to come inside me and give me your seed. Your seed liberates me.”

By now Jonathan is a little creeped out. What the hell is this lady talking about? “White Guilt” inspired her to come here and have sex with him? What the fuck?

“Listen, Samantha. This is a pretty strange thing to talk about. I mean, what we’re doing here has nothing to do with society, culture, history or anything like that. We’re just, you know, hooking up. That’s it, am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right to an extent. But there’s more at stake here. By making love to you, by allowing you inside my body, I’m redeeming myself. I’m turning racism on its ugly head and fucking it away. Like magic, you know?”

No, honestly Jonathan has no clue what the hell she’s talking about. Really, what is she trying to–

Samantha spontaneously leaps out from the bed and speed walks toward the front door. When she arrived at his apartment she came with a white overcoat and a black bag. She grabs the mysterious black bag and returns to bed. She sits down and unzips it. Jonathan tries to peer inside while appearing calm and indifferent at the same time.

This is what the mysterious black bag looks like. Intriguing, isn't it?
This is what the mysterious black bag looks like. Intriguing, isn’t it?

“So, Jonathan, I want to redeem myself further. I want to erase the racist crimes of the past committed by my white ancestors. Slavery, the genocide of the Native Americans, pogroms against the Jews, the capitalist exploitation of colored children in the developing world, the Japanese Internment, everything. I want to make right with the Universe. And you’re going to help me out with this, my love.” It appears she’s finally found what she’s looking for inside the bag. By now, Jonathan is officially creeped out. This lady has clearly gone psycho! She’s off her rocker. She’s gone off the deep end of the pool. She’s…

“Take this, Jonathan.”

Jonathan snaps out of his daze and turns to look at her. Samantha, with an eerie look in her eye, is holding a long black leather whip, handcuffs and rope. She hands the items to him. He has absolutely no idea how to react.

“I want you to punish me, Jonathan.”

Just like that, Dr. Sammy stands up and gets down on all fours on the floor. She sticks her butt up in the air facing his direction. Jonathan is utterly shocked and frozen. He cannot move, think or even come close to comprehending what’s going on.

“Punish me. Hard.”

Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Three)

Vilma Caez. There are no words.
Vilma Caez. There are no words.

I mean, HOT DAMN.

“Come on in,” she says to me.

I immediately obliged, closing the door gently behind me. I looked around and saw the room was dimly lit. Music played from an iPod in the background. It was some pop song that I can’t recall at the moment.

GFBB looked great, but different than I expected. But to be truthful, I had no idea what to expect. Would she be as hard and muscular as she was in her competition days? Or would she be a shadow of her former self, perhaps maybe slightly overweight?

My questions were answered the moment I laid eyes on her.

She wore a tight blue dress that left very little to the imagination. Proudly showing off her ample bosom and allowing her legs plenty of room to breathe, she looked beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Her body was curvy and toned, not ripped or hypermuscular as a competitive bodybuilder (I might have just invented the word ‘hypermuscular”). She was a few inches shorter than me, 5’4” as it indicates in her biography on AMG-Lite. She was bountiful in many parts of her body; including her chest, back, legs and arms. She looked like a woman who took care of herself at the gym, though not necessarily in the obsessive-compulsive manner of a professional bodybuilder. Her figure would definitely turn heads – not in an “Oh my God she’s so freakish” kind of way, but rather in a “Wow, she looks great!” sort of way.

Let me pause momentarily. Usually, guys who regularly schedule sessions with FBBs would be disappointed by this. Some folks truly expect their FBBs to look ripped, huge and ready to compete in the Ms. Olympia contest. Clearly, GFBB did not fit in this category. But I didn’t mind at all. While her figure wasn’t exceptionally muscular, she still looked beautiful nevertheless. I had nothing to complain about.

Asian Muscle Goddess Brenda Raganot.
Asian Muscle Goddess Brenda Raganot.

If I can make an analogy, it would be like this: Imagine meeting your favorite baseball or basketball player for the first time. You ask for his autograph or for him to take a picture with you. Now imagine you grew up rooting for this player and you consider him to be your childhood hero. A legend from your youth. Now imagine you’re meeting this famous athlete later in his career. He’s not nearly as great as he once was and his production on the field/court isn’t nearly up to the standards he held himself to when he was in the prime of his career. Regardless, you still feel amazed to meet your childhood hero up close. Yes, you realize he’s past his prime, but you still respect him and his body of work. You still feel giddy inside when you shake his hand and he gives you his signed jersey.

Meeting GFBB was sort of like that. I knew she wouldn’t look like she did when she was in the prime of her bodybuilding career, but that didn’t bother me one bit. Meeting her was still a great honor and a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life. Was I disheartened when I saw she didn’t have the bulging muscles that I’ve seen in countless photos and videos?

Hell no!

Returning to my adventure, she led me inside and told me to get comfortable. I took off my shoes and put my backpack next to a chair. We sat down. I sat on a comfortable chair and she sat on the bed. I could not stop staring at her legs! (Confession: I’m a leg guy) She sat cross legged to hide whatever was happening between her gorgeous thighs. I felt my manhood start to rumble. God, I can’t believe I’m actually going through with this!

More Sheila Bleck. Yowza!
More Sheila Bleck. Yowza!

The first thing we did was introduce each other. Though she didn’t ask for it, I gave her the envelop full of money to complete my financial obligation to her. She graciously accepted it. We both sat down again.

GFBB and I proceeded to have a fairly long conversation about many different topics. I asked her about her bodybuilding career and how she feels about traveling around the world and offering sessions to paying customers. Then we talked about traveling in general. We spoke about our world travels and some of our shared experiences of being a foreigner in a far off land. We talked about our jobs, our families, politics, the difference between our generations and some fairly deep philosophical topics.

Gee, I did not expect our conversation to go like this! She’s a pretty smart cookie.

After talking for about fifteen minutes, our conversation found a natural conclusion and we both knew it. It was time to begin this thing. She broke the ice by asking this simple question:

“Do you like strong women?”

Do I? Um, yes!

I got the sense she wanted to talk with me just to ease my nerves. She knew this is my first ever session and that I’m a complete newbie to this whole process. She even jokingly asked me how my mother would feel if she found out her son was in a hotel room with a strange, mostly naked woman. I told her she would probably be shocked and a bit disappointed.

Come to think of it, I have no idea what my mother would think about this. That’s probably something I don’t want to ever find out.

Amber Deluca exudes uncontained sexiness.
Amber Deluca exudes uncontained sexiness.

She suggested that she give me a back rub first. Alright, no problem!

I took off my shirt, shoes, socks and pants and lay down on the bed face down wearing only my underwear and a nervous smile. I still could not believe this was happening. But here I was, about to receive a back massage from a strong, beautiful intelligent woman.

Her hands pressed deep into my back, relaxing me beyond what I expected was possible. She commented on how I have a “swimmer’s body,” which I suppose means lean, angular and v-shaped. I took this as a supreme compliment. She obviously has met her share of muscular men in her life. I can take pride that she even found a reason to comment on my figure!

After I was sufficiently relaxed, she proceeded to take off her dress. I tried to turn around to steal a peek, but she playfully tapped me on the face to scold me.

“No peeking!” she says.

Oh, how I love this woman!

I, being a good boy, turned my head away so she could denude without my eyes wandering in her direction. I knew she was topless when I felt her large, plump breasts rubbing against my back. GFBB slowly caressed her breasts across my back side, starting on my butt and ending to almost my neckline. God, that felt good! Feeling the points of her nipples poke my skin accentuated the entire experience.

Very erotic, indeed.

Eventually she allows me to turn me around, upon which I lay on my back only to look up upon one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her pretty face smiling at me, GFBB’s ample bosom impeccably complemented her toned, curvaceous figure. Her strong hands stroked my arms and shoulders. If Heaven exists, I think angels would look like her.

Shy and unsure about what to do next, she guided my hands to feel her breasts. Wow! Unbelievable! Warm, abundant and plump, her breasts gave off a more maternal vibe rather than sexual. She says they’re implants, which makes sense considering how much bodybuilding rescinds the fatty tissue women have in their mammary glands.

The angelic Charmaine Patterson.
The angelic Charmaine Patterson.

We both sat up and she began to “pose” for me. Flexing her arms, I felt her hard biceps welcoming me. Do I like strong women? I think my answer is definitely a resounding “yes!”

I greedily felt her muscles with a mixture of awe and hesitation. Where can I touch her? How does she feel about me touching her body like a horny school boy? She’s obviously used to this sort of thing, but I still didn’t want to treat her like a prostitute. She’s not a prostitute, even though the services she’s offering and the circumstances surrounding our meeting would suggest such a role.

Let me be clear. GFBB is not a prostitute. Not even close.

These thoughts flooded through my mind as I felt up her legs, feet, butt (she still had panties on), back, abdomen, arms and shoulders. Was I disappointed that her muscles weren’t bulgier and more defined? Not one bit.

“What about if I give you a back rub instead?” I suggested.

“Okay. Let’s try that,” she responds.

Now it was GFBB’s turn to get on her stomach and receive a relaxing back rub. Admiring her thick core, I thoroughly enjoyed making her feel like I appreciated everything she’s doing for me. I wonder how often guys who see her return the favor instead of always being on the receiving end. I wanted to show her that I’m a giving person.

We then got on the subject of talking about her career offering sessions to guys like me and how she feels about it. She tells me she doesn’t mind doing things like this, but she hates the word “session.”

“I prefer to call this an appointment,” she tells me.

I agree “session” doesn’t sound right. “Appointment” seems to be a more dignified way of describing muscle worship services. I agree with her completely.

Fanny Palou is perfect.
Fanny Palou is perfect.

Eventually I ask her about some of the weirdest “appointments” she’s ever had. She told me about one time when a married couple, a man and a woman, asked her to participate in a threesome. The man got aroused by his wife choking him nearly to the point of total asphyxiation. She found that disturbing.

I would too. Yikes.

I continued to rub her back. Feeling her trapezius muscles and listening to her retell stories, I realized I love the way her deep, gravelly voice sounds. There’s something sexy about a woman with a deep voice; very authoritative yet undeniably feminine.

GFBB’s skin was warm and firm. Her musky smell turned me on even more. I don’t consider smell to be a strong sense of mine. I don’t normally associate memories with smell. This evening might change all that. This evening will perhaps change many things about me.

I briefly looked at the bedside clock and saw nearly 50 minutes had passed so far. Gee, time sure flies when you’re having fun! She tells me I’m her last client of the evening. So I suppose that means she isn’t “clock watching” to make sure I get only an hour. I get the sense she wants to take her time with me. For that I am thankful.

We turned the discussion toward the subject of BDSM, the novel “50 Shades of Grey” and how muscle worship fits into all that. I told her BDSM isn’t my thing. She said that’s fine. We both agreed that “to each, his own.” GFBB offered to give me a brief taste of what she usually does with her clients. I got on my back and she wrapped her strong legs around my neck. She demonstrated what a “scissor lock” feels like. Some guys get aroused by a strong woman wrestling him into submission. A scissor hold is a common move. She squeezed, though not particularly hard, and asked me if I liked it.

“Honestly, I’m a little uncomfortable by this.”

She released her powerful thighs and let me sit up. Wow. Those are some dynamic pair of legs!

“It’s strange,” she began. “The guys who want to wrestle with me feel like they have something to prove. But prove what?”

Who wouldn't want Anne Freitas to wrap her strong, powerful legs around them?
Who wouldn’t want Anne Freitas to wrap her strong, powerful legs around them?

I imagine there are insecure men out there who feel like “winning” a wrestling match with a female bodybuilder would be a great personal victory. In a strange sort of way, I kind of understand why, even though I don’t feel the same. All I can say is that I don’t need to “prove” anything to anyone, let alone a beautiful lady like GFBB.

I looked at the clock again. Almost an hour has passed. From the time I knocked on the door to the present moment, it’s been an hour. I think we both know what comes next.

“May I use the bathroom?” I ask.

“Of course.” She laughs.

I go into the bathroom and pee. I didn’t really have to pee that badly, but I figure if I’m about to receive a “happy ending” I should be as comfortable as possible. I’ve never done anything like this before so I want my first time to be special.

I come out of the bathroom and see GFBB has taken off her panties. She is completely naked. As nude as the day she was born. She stood over her iPod and fiddled with it. She asked me if I knew how to work this. Her iPod was playing the same song over and over again (I hadn’t noticed) and she wanted it to move on to the next song. I told her I had no idea why it was doing that. I gave her a playful spank on her bare butt. She giggled.

We got back on the bed after I removed my underwear. Both of us completely nude, we felt up each other’s bodies once more. Amazingly, my penis wasn’t hard yet, but I sure hope it will be soon. I looked down at her vagina and saw she shaved her pubic hair down to a fine thin strip. Very hot. Her firm, round butt was majestic. God, this woman is beautiful beyond words!

More Yvette Bova is never a bad thing.
More Yvette Bova is never a bad thing.

We looked into each other’s eyes and knew what was about to happen next. She promised a hand job at the end of our appointment. This moment could not have been more surreal. Imagine for a moment: Here I am, a meek Asian dude from Seattle, about to receive a hand job from a gorgeous world-famous female bodybuilder. One year ago I would have said you were crazy if you told me this was going to happen.

No way! Not me. I wouldn’t be able to do anything like that.

But – sure enough – it’s about to happen. Her touch sends shivers down my spine. Her skin feels like rich velvet. Her eyes captivate my soul. Her strength makes me swoon in ways no other woman could possibly match. Her playfulness, intelligence, kindness, sexiness and dry wit elicit emotions inside me that I know are irrational. We aren’t lovers. I just met her an hour ago. I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. Yet why do I feel this way? Why do I feel like, in a mysteriously metaphysical way, this moment will forever be frozen in time? Why am I feeling a love for her that doesn’t make an ounce of sense? I know we could never be actual lovers, but why does this moment feel so…perfect?

As she teasingly plays with my penis, I couldn’t stop thinking about what all of this means.

Continued in Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Four)

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

6:30 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:31 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:32 p.m.

Tick, tick, tick…

6:33 p.m.

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

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

So…where is that bottle of scotch?

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

God, I hope not!

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

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

6:45 p.m.

Good. Time is moving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6:53 p.m.

Can time move any slower?

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

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

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

Well, that puts an end to all that speculation.

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

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

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

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

Me: I’m doing awesome! How are you?

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

Me: Me too. Where do you work out?

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

Me: Yes, I do.

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

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

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

Cindi: I’m Cindi.

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

Cindi: I am. Do you think I’m lying?

Me: I Googled you and nothing came up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cindi: My bodybuilding name is Grace Gonzalez.

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

Me: Wow! You’re really Grace Gonzalez?

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

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

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

Cindi: No problem. LOL

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

Cindi: Do you like strong women?

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

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

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

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

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

Me: Yes.

Cindi: I’m not looking for a relationship.

Me: I know.

Cindi: Are you looking for a relationship?

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

(Pause)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: I’d love to.

Cindi: Great! Make sure to bring protection!

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

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

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

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

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