Educating Jonathan – Part One

This is the figure I imagined Dr. Samantha would possess.
This is the figure I imagined Dr. Samantha would possess.

“Is it true Asian men have small penises?” she asks.

Jonathan stops his slow, languorous kisses across her neck as he freezes, utterly shocked to hear such a question.

“Um, I have no idea if we do or not. I don’t think any scientific studies have been done on the matter.” He continues to kiss her, moving up to her jawline, tasting her sweet skin. Samantha softly moans as his tongue explores her slender cheek bones.

“I lost my virginity to an Asian boy. He was Vietnamese. We were both fifteen. I haven’t spoken to him in almost twenty years,” she says, cupping his bottom with her hands. Jonathan and Samantha were now down to their underwear, dainty pieces of fabric separating them from total nakedness.

“How was he? In bed, that is…” he asks. He isn’t just asking to make casual conversation. Jonathan sincerely wants to know. How would he compare to a pubescent Vietnamese boy?

Samantha takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around Jonathan’s waist. She ponders this question for a moment, her right eyebrow raised slightly. Deep in thought.

“I don’t remember. We were both very young. I didn’t come, but that wasn’t because of him. The whole time I was scared we’d be caught by my parents. We did it on their bed. They could have come home at any moment. We were both drunk.” Samantha felt a chill roll down her back as she reflects upon that particular night. They were so close to being caught. But alas, they had plenty of time to finish the deed before Mom and Dad came home from the movie theater.

Jonathan wonders where this conversation is going. Are they going to make love or not? He isn’t the impatient type of guy, but after hours of foreplay (starting with him buying her dinner at an overpriced seafood restaurant) he was more than ready to ravish her on his bed. Mostly naked and furiously aroused, he was as good as ready. He was pretty sure she was too.

The rain fell peacefully on the bedroom’s sky window. Jonathan’s top floor apartment unit stood seventeen floors high, overlooking the entire metropolitan skyline. It was approaching midnight, but neither of them felt sleepy. He wants to make love to her right now. She, on the other hand, is preoccupied with discussing the size of Asian men’s penises.

This is how things are going so far.

“Overall, was it a positive experience for the both of you?” he asks. Maybe if he kept the discussion going this would lead to better sex than if he just remained silent. Women love men who can communicate, right?

There's something peacefully calming about the rain.
There’s something peacefully calming about the rain.

“Yes, it was. I didn’t feel any pain. He came inside me. I didn’t come, but I was at an age when I hadn’t ever come before. I learned how to shortly after.” Her soft skin felt divine against his body. She smelled like a fresh spring morning, full of hope and renewal. Jonathan desperately wants to taste her femininity, to take in every inch of her magnificent body and destroy any notion that Asian men can’t be good lovers. He wants to bring her to as many earth-shattering climaxes as possible and leave her begging for more until the sun rose the next morning.

“How…big was he?” Jonathan courageously asks.

“I was young, so I didn’t think about that. We did it in the dark, so I couldn’t get a good look at him. He felt fine inside me, I think. But no one can fill me the way my husband can.” Jonathan almost cringes at the thought of Samantha being a married woman. He hates being the “other man,” but his uncontrollable lust for her has clouded his judgment and rendered any sense of moral decency useless.

“What would your husband think if he knew what we were doing?” he quietly whispers in her ear.

“He’d be very angry. He wouldn’t resort to violence, but he’d be very angry.” Samantha doesn’t have a single shred of guilt inside her. The moment she peeked into their bedroom one early afternoon and saw her husband in bed with a female coworker, she knew she had to exact revenge on him without his knowledge. He never found out that she found out…and that’s the way Samantha wants it to be.

Jonathan and Samantha met under very unlikely circumstances. He’s a grad student at the University working on his Masters in physics. She’s a college professor at the same University and earned her doctorate in Gender, Race and Class Studies. He’s never taken a course from her, but her reputation as an accomplished and intelligent woman with gorgeous good looks made her a legend on campus. She’s never slept with any of her students, as she’s remained faithful to her husband (a neurosurgeon and widely respected man in his community) throughout their entire marriage until this fateful night.

He’s Asian, 25-years-old and unmarried. She’s a natural blonde, white, 52-years-old and has been married for 27 years. She’s been with her husband longer than Jonathan’s been alive. This fact does not escape either of them.

Jonathan reaches down and feels between her legs. Her panties are soaking wet, moisture seeping through the bright red fabric. She lets out another moan as his fingers explore her swollen womanhood.

Olympic track athlete Funmi Jimoh, born in Seattle, WA! She's the inspiration for "Kristina," the girl Jonathan lost his virginity to years ago.
Olympic track athlete Funmi Jimoh, born in Seattle, WA! She’s the inspiration for “Kristina,” the girl Jonathan lost his virginity to years ago.

“I want to make love to you. Badly, Samantha,” Jonathan pleads with her. His erection is straining against his underwear, equally anticipating release and satisfaction. She reaches down and pinches the sides of his underwear, slowly dragging it down his legs.

“Please. Call me Sammy. That’s what my students call me,” Samantha quips, mesmerized by the unveiling of Jonathan’s manhood.

“Dr. Sammy” is what she’s specifically known by around campus. The moment Jonathan first saw her he instantly fell in love. Her beauty, intelligence, passion and dedication to her craft of teaching struck him immediately – like a thousand bolts of lightning hitting him all at once.

When she pulled off his underwear, Jonathan was completely naked. His erected manhood stood between him and her. A sudden wave of insecurity rushed over him. She says her husband can fill her like no one else can. How would he compare? What is she thinking right now?

Samantha looks down at his penis and stares at it, studying its shape and size. Before marrying her husband, Samantha had a very active sex life and has seen her share of male anatomy through the years. She didn’t quite know what to think about his endowment yet. It wasn’t particularly small, but it wasn’t big either. It was light brown, curved slightly and circumcised. His black pubic hair was short and lightly trimmed, dancing around his manhood without being distracting.

“How big is it?” she asks, almost in a trance-like state. Jonathan has no idea how to respond.

“Uh, I don’t know. What do you mean by that?”

“How long is it? Have you ever measured it before?”

“No, I have not. Do you want to?”

Her eyes light up. Of course she wants to! Samantha doesn’t know where her obsession with penis size came from, but throughout her adult life (starting in high school) she’s been mesmerized by men’s penises – their function, their size, their appearance, their unique smell and their role in social relationships. She once wrote an entire book dedicated to studying penises. Every possible angle was explored in this groundbreaking text. She even won an award for it.

“Yes, I want to. Do you have a ruler or measuring tape?” Her eyes still have not left his manhood. Jonathan has never taken much thought about the size of his penis. He’s always assumed he was average. None of the women he’s ever been with (both Asian and non-Asian) have ever complained. But then again, not complaining isn’t the same as being satisfied. He lost his virginity to a black girl during his freshman year in college. Her name was Kristina. She lived in the same dormitory building and was a member of the track team. She had an incredibly muscular body that was as fit and athletic as he’d ever witnessed in his life. He’ll never forget that experience.

“I have a roll of measuring tape in my desk drawer.” Jonathan gets up off the bed and almost trips on the pile of clothes recklessly sprawled out across the floor. His erection sways from side to side as he walks across the room. Samantha notices this and begins to touch herself in response. She slides her right hand beneath her panties and places two fingers across her swollen clitoris, stroking herself as she closes her eyes and imagines Jonathan’s Asian penis filling every inch of her. She unclasps her bra and drops it on the floor.

Have you ever measured the length of your manhood?
Have you ever measured the length of your manhood?

Meanwhile, Jonathan opens his desk drawer and takes out a small roll of measuring tape. He can’t remember the last time he used this. High school shop class, perhaps? That must be it.

He turns around and sees Samantha pleasuring herself. Her right hand caresses the sensitive nub between her legs while her left hand explores her stomach, breasts and neck. Jonathan watches, captivated by this little “show.” Jonathan has seen lots of videos of women masturbating in front of a camera, but nothing compares to watching the real thing unfold right before his very eyes.

She has no idea what’s come over her. She’s not the type of woman who impulsively touches herself when a sudden rush of arousal hits her. But here she is, rubbing herself like a sex-starved housewife in front of a total stranger she’s only met hours ago. Samantha feels a hot rush of heat pulsate from between her legs as her fingers relentlessly caress her most sensitive area. She knows she’s close. And she’s further turned on knowing he’s watching her.

Jonathan can’t breathe. Samantha loses her breath – caught up in the moment, reveling in the sensations rising up from her depraved body.

Samantha looks up to the Heavens as she approaches her climax. Her fingers continue to rub her clit as her breathing increases with forceful panic. Seeing Jonathan’s hard manhood sway back and forth reminded her of her husband twenty years ago, when they were both young and full of uninhibited sexual ambitions.

Finally, Samantha’s orgasm reaches its peak and she climaxes. A controlled scream fills the air as her orgasm engulfs her entire body from head to toe. The rhythmic contractions of her vaginal muscles steal her breath, making her fall backwards on the bed. Her fingers linger on her clit until her spasms subside. Eventually her breathing returns to normal and she opens her eyes, thanking every deity in existence for this amazing experience. She brings her fingers to her mouth and tastes her feminine juices, enjoying the way her taste buds respond to her own essence.

Silence. Neither of them move for what seems like an eternity. Jonathan decides to break the deafening stillness.

“That was amazing. It looks like you don’t even need me.” Jonathan winks at her, a wicked smile streaking across his face.

Samantha laughs heartily. She never expected this impromptu masturbation session. But there was something in the way that Jonathan’s penis moved as he walked that erupted a sudden burst of lust inside her. She needed release at that moment. And the only one who could give her that immediate release was herself.

More erotic photography. A woman pleasuring herself. Who can better please a woman than herself?
More erotic photography. A woman pleasuring herself. Who can better please a woman than herself?

“Come here. I want to do something with you.” Samantha pats the bed next to her as she sits back up. By now Jonathan can clearly see her panties are soaking wet, a sign of her arousal that sparks a similar eruption of lust inside him. He hands her the measuring tape and sits down next to her.

“Let’s see how big you are. If you don’t mind.” She stretches the tape out. It’s 72 inches long, plenty of length for whatever scientific experiment she wants to conduct.

“No, I don’t mind. I’m never one to get in the way of scientific research.” Jonathan inhales a deep breath as Samantha grabs the base of his penis and lightly strokes up and down. He feels sudden waves of pleasure cascading through his body. If she wasn’t careful, he might come right there.

“Good. Let’s see where you are…” she trails off, pushing her thumb against the tip of his penis to make sure it stands straight. She then places the end of the measuring tape at the base of his pubic hair and rolls the tape up to the top. He looks down to see how he stacks up.

“About five and a half inches long,” Samantha says unemotionally, as if she were relaying astronomy coordinates to a bored lab assistant.

“Whew,” Jonathan says, breathing a sigh of relief. Is that standard? All the unscientific research he’s ever read says the average penis size, when fully engorged, is between five and six inches. At five and a half, he’s right in the middle. Good! He’s not small. But he’s also not large. He’s…average.

He can live with “average.”

Samantha then wraps the measuring tape around the base of his penis to calculate the circumference. She brushes some of his pubic hair aside to get a more accurate reading.

“Just shy of four and three-quarters inches,” she says, equally without emotion or judgment.

“Dr. Sammy” winds the measuring tape and places it on top of the bedside table. She turns to face Jonathan and plants a light kiss on his right cheek. Electricity runs down his spine as her soft, luscious lips linger on the side of his face.

“Let’s make love,” he suggests, caressing her cheek and lightly pinching her pink nipple with his fingertips.

She takes the hint and slips off her soaked panties down her beautiful legs. Samantha kicks them away to the side, uncaring where they land. She is now completely nude.

“Yes.” She kisses him deeply, refusing to let this prefect moment go to waste.

The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode Two – Black Beauty

When you think of Black Beauty, think about Desiree Ellis.
When you think of Black Beauty, think about Desiree Ellis.

Max’s next dream took him to a familiar place: his own life.

Rainfall. Dusk. The time is 5:37 p.m. It is Friday, a day Max always cherishes.

After a rough week at work, Max knew he had to blow off some steam at the gym. TGIF, right? Max frequently worked out at the gym 3 to 4 days per week, doing a variety of exercises ranging from weight lifting to yoga to Pilates to swimming. Today he just needed to lift till his muscles gave out. It was one of those days.

6:40 p.m.

Max just completes nearly an hour and a half of blasting his chest and back muscles. Drenched in sweat, breathing hard as if he’d just run a marathon; he decides it’s time to stretch and end his workout with light cardio. As he was heading to the treadmill area, a heart-stopping sight caught him dead in his tracks.

Walking out of a now completed Zumba class was a striking black woman. Tall (perhaps 6’1”, maybe taller), muscular, athletic and as gorgeous as a supermodel, this woman exudes sexual power out of every pore of her impeccable body. Max is certain he’d never seen her here before, but at this moment, encountering this Beautiful Goddess destroyed any certainty he had of anything.

Imagine seeing a lady like Tatianna Butler in your gym. Talk about distracting.
Imagine seeing a lady like Tatianna Butler in your gym. Talk about distracting.

Wearing tight pink workout shorts and a revealing pink sports bra to match, this fetching woman is a perfect specimen of female beauty. She is the quintessential Black Beauty, the Immortal African Queen. Her dark black skin looks silky smooth and as soft as a blanket. Her hard muscles are sharp and well-defined. She is as strong as an ox. Every inch of her is perfect.

And Max was determined to find out more about her.

Black Beauty proceeds to walk toward the weight room. Wait, really? She’s not going back to the locker room? She actually plans to lift with the rest of the guys?

Hell yes, she is!

Black Beauty demonstrates that she isn’t just strong “for a woman;” she shows everyone she’s STRONG, plain and simple. Deadlifts. Squats. Lunges. Leg presses. Massive weight. Heavy reps. Sweat dripping off her delectable body. Today is definitely her leg day.

All the guys stop and stare at her. But does she get offended with this new-found attention? Nope. She loves the attention. She adores being looked at. She treasures every guy who can’t help but stare at her glorious figure. She wants this. She desires this.

She deserves this.

Every guy wants her. But Max knows he would be the one who would end up with her before the night is out. He doesn’t know how. He just knows this is how things will happen.

So…time to make a move!

It started with casual flirting. Max passes by Black Beauty and lets out a hushed wolf whistle. Black Beauty smiles back and returns the whistle as Max pumps out ten reps of heavy military shoulder press. Today isn’t a shoulders day, but any excuse to get close to her makes that fact irrelevant.

Then he strikes up a casual conversation with her. He asks her why he’s never seen her here before. She answers that she just moved into town. Their conversation goes deeper. They learn things about each other; where they grew up, what schools they attended, where they live, what they do for a living (as it turns out, she’s an amateur bodybuilder and a professional erotic model) and what hobbies they share. They learn a lot in a brief amount of time.

Her name is Afrika. See her power. See her strength. Admire her.
Her name is Afrika. See her power. See her strength. Admire her.

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Then an hour and a half. Forget working out. Max and Black Beauty aren’t just flirting – they’re connecting at a deep level. All the men in the weight room are jealous of Max. Many leave after conceding that Black Beauty is Max’s for the taking. They know what will happen between these two. So why bother sticking around and hoping they’ll get their shot?

For Max and Black Beauty, this is no longer casual flirting. This is foreplay. This is a mating dance; albeit one that involves dumbbells, barbells and lots of 45-pound plates of weight. Consummating this dance isn’t a possibility; it’s a guarantee.

Eventually Max and Black Beauty ease off their conversation and resume their workouts. Having already completed his initial workout, Max is now doing overtime. His muscles may collapse on him. But he doesn’t care one bit. This opportunity to get to know Black Beauty is one that he cannot pass up.

Max says he’s leaving and is heading home. Black Beauty, clearly enamored by him, offers to exchange phone numbers. They do. Max texts to Black Beauty his name and phone number. She smiles and resumes her grueling workout. Max leaves the weight room as if he’d just conquered the world.

After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Max buys a protein shake at the juice bar. He looks around for Black Beauty. She’s still at the weight room, squatting what looks to be 315 pounds. Holy smokes. Look at that power. Look at her impeccable form. Look at her massive thighs, growing stronger and stronger with every punishing repetition. The way she strenuously pushes her leg muscles beyond what they can handle turns Max on in ways he’s never been turned on before.

Max senses his manhood waking up. Who cares if anyone notices?

An hour later, Max is at home watching a rerun of some football game he couldn’t care less about. Out of the blue, his phone buzzes. He checks it out and sees this simple message:

I wanna fuck you. So fucking bad. My place or yours?

Do you really have to guess who this is? Didn’t think so.

Ultimately, Max decides to come over to her house. Black Beauty texts him her address and fifteen minutes later he’s pulling up his car onto her driveway. He kills the engine. She lives in a quaint stone house in a quiet residential neighborhood a few miles away from his apartment. Though he wouldn’t consider her a next-door-neighbor, he’d drive any distance to be with this Black Muscle Goddess.

Zoe Saldana's beauty is enough to make my heart stop.
Zoe Saldana’s beauty is enough to make my heart stop.

He rings her doorbell. He waits. Seconds pass which seem like days. Eventually, the door opens. Black Beauty is standing before him.

Holy shit.

Dressed in nothing but a lily white negligee, silky purple lingerie and bright red stiletto heels, Black Beauty was a divine object of flawless beauty. Her revealing outfit shows off every bulging muscle on her unbelievable body. Her pumped legs, which Max was surprised was still able to stand considering the intensity of her earlier workout, nearly gave him a heart attack. Her wide, massive thighs squeeze together, unable to separate apart on their own. This thickness sends a chill down Max’s spine.

She invites him in. He enters her home. It is artistically decorated – littered with Greek nude statues, post-modern erotic paintings, photographs of muscular men and women in a variety of sensual poses and bookshelves full of academic textbooks.

She explains that she’s a student of art history, erotic art and human sexuality. Max isn’t surprised one bit. Their conversation at the gym was much deeper than any normal weight room banter. Black Beauty isn’t just a strong, beautiful woman. She’s also deeply passionate, intelligent and artistically-minded.

Not a bad combination.

Black Beauty offers him something to drink. Max takes the offer. They enter her dining room and sip fine wine by romantic candlelight for the next two hours. Their topics of conversation run the gamut; politics, art, sex, race, society, bodybuilding, culture, sports, history, family and culinary experiences. Their mutual fondness grows exponentially with each passing moment. Both Max and Black Beauty sense this isn’t going to be just a quick affair. Both know this has potential to be something more…profound.

It is nearing midnight. One empty bottle of wine later, Max and Black Beauty are both fairly loosened up. Not drunk. No, both are very clear-minded. Probably because they only have one thing on their mind:

Making love.

Yes, not fucking. Not screwing. Not banging one another. No…making love. Max and Black Beauty are about to make love as if they’d known each other for decades. This isn’t purely physical. This is something else entirely. This is real. Very real. Very tangible.

All hail Iris Kyle, a legend in her own right.
All hail Iris Kyle, a legend in her own right.

Finally, after hours of keeping a respectable physical distance, Black Beauty leans in and kisses Max passionately. She tastes him, possessing him with her mouth. Her tongue explores him, marking its territory. Max couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t mind. He’s been waiting for this moment a long time.

Max and Black Beauty finish their kiss and lock eyes. It’s time to start this dance. This erotic dance that will, inevitably, last all night and into the early morning. Hell, it’ll probably last into all day tomorrow as well. But tomorrow can wait. All that matters is the here and now.

Black Beauty stands up from the dining room table and walks over to him. Max loves the sight of her tight butt jiggling with every step. They share a second kiss, this time less fervent than the last, but nevertheless equally endearing. Max gets up and embraces her securely, feeling every mound of muscle on her taut back. She squeezes back and nearly knocks the wind out of him. Wow! She’s powerful! Her enormous arms wrap around his torso with a force that could sever him in half.

She releases. He struggles to catch his breath. Before he makes an attempt to, she grabs his hand and leads him into the living room.

All the lights are out. A fire is burning in the fireplace, giving off a dreamy glowing aura. A large fleece blanket and two pillows are neatly laid on the floor. She’s planned this out, meticulous detail by meticulous detail. God, what a woman!

Black Beauty stops, turns around and lifts Max’s shirt over his head. She kneels down and unbuckles his belt. Max reaches down and rubs her strong, broad shoulders. Black Beauty kisses his abdominal muscles, savoring every inch. Max plans to savor every inch of her, too.

Victoria Dominguez on a beach. Heaven on Earth, no?
Victoria Dominguez on a beach. Heaven on Earth, no?

She finally strips him and instructs him to sit down on the blanket. Max obliges. Black Beauty takes a few steps back and starts an erotic dance that captivates him. His manhood stands at attention. She removes her negligee and drops it to the floor. It pools around her ankles. She slowly removes her bra tosses it recklessly across the room. It disappears into the darkness.

Her large, plump breasts beckon him, but she pulls away to tease him. She kicks off her stilettos and places them behind her. All that’s left are her panties.

After another languorous erotic dance, inspired by ballet and rhythm stepping, Black Beauty at last removes the one last piece of clothing from her magnificent body. She steps back and poses, proudly demonstrating her muscularity. The light from the fire accentuates every fine curve, every muscle, every inch of her hard work at the gym.

Black Beauty bends over and kisses Max again. She lightly strokes his penis in an effort to arouse him. But the truth is he’s been aroused for hours now. But he appreciates the kind gesture.

She rolls on top of him and kisses his neck, chest and shoulders. Max returns the favor and strokes her long silky black hair. Black Beauty pulls him up and they share a long, wet kiss. Max reaches down and inserts a finger inside her vagina. She lets out a moan, expressing her approval. She’s completely wet, moist and ready for him. He knows what comes next.

Coming apart from their kiss, Black Beauty lies down on her back and spreads her thick legs in a spreadeagle formation. Max caresses her calves and takes his time to admire them. But she is impatient. She wants him to enter her. She wants him to please her.

Max, not wanting to disappoint, positions his penis at the entrance of her vagina and rubs the tip against her swollen clitoris. Black Beauty moans again loudly, not holding back. Now is not the time to hold back anything.

Halle Berry is one of my favorites from my youth. God, what a beauty!
Halle Berry is one of my favorites from my youth. God, what a beauty!

In one single movement, Max pushes himself into her until he can’t possibly get any deeper. Jolts of electricity scream through their bodies. Max bends over and kisses Black Beauty ardently, savoring her with an earnest that he’s never experienced before. She wraps her long strong legs around him and thrusts herself into him, forcing both lovers to moan out loud in unapologetic pleasure.

Max whispers something into Black Beauty’s ear. Only they know what is said, no one else. As he drives himself deeper and deeper into her, he forgets where he is for a moment. Her house? Paradise? It makes no difference.

Black Beauty clutches her lover’s body tightly against her ample chest, her bulky muscles temporarily knocking the wind out of him. They kiss with a force that neither could replicate with another person again. Wet, sloppy and untamed, these lovers are holding nothing back. They don’t have time to waste. It’s only this moment, this place and their animalistic lust for each other that matter. Why worry about tomorrow?

The lovers experience the initial sensations of orgasm. But this lovemaking session isn’t about the orgasm. No. It’s about one thing only: Love.

She rolls over and takes over on top. He enthusiastically indulges in her whim. Riding him like a cowgirl riding her prized stallion, she locks her fingers around his and playfully dances up and down his manhood. He whimpers, knowing this is a moment he will never forget. She falls on top of him, spreads her legs wide and prepares for one final thrust that will send both lovers over the edge.

She whispers something into his ear. Like before, no one in the world will ever know what she tells him.

Black Beauty lifts her perfectly rounded butt in the air, takes a deep breath, kisses Max one last time and gives him one last final thrust. Their lips never come apart.

Max and Black Beauty come at the same time. Their lips finally separate. They let out a wild scream which will surely shake the Earth’s foundation.

Her vaginal muscles contract uncontrollably. His penis pulses with authority, emptying himself into her. He wants to give her all he’s got. He wants this moment to be special.

She collapses on top of him. They breathe heavily. Sweat drips off their bodies. Their hearts pound together to the same beat. The shadows created by the fire’s light produce a picturesque image of erotic perfection. Two people. One body. Pure love.

They continue to whisper sweet words into each other’s ears. The poetry shared between them could fill a thousand volumes of classical literature.

Outside, the rain begins to fall. It gets louder and louder with each passing moment. There is now a peace between the two lovers. The gentle sounds of water cascading off the roof add to the sexual ambiance.

Finally, she lifts herself off of him. His penis has softened by now. She toys with it playfully, smiling down at him. He returns the favor and lightly strokes her beautiful labia. He sits up and kisses her breasts, lapping her tongue across her sensitive nipples. She closes her eyes, looks up to the Heavens and sighs with satisfaction. This moment cannot be any more perfect, she tells herself.

Romantic fireplace and wine.
Romantic fireplace and wine.

The night is still young. The fire’s celestial glow endures. The fire burning within them is far from being satiated. Their shared love will never die.

The two lovers cuddle underneath the blanket and share stories about their childhoods. There’s something poignant about the simplicity of life and the desire to share it that comes out after the act of lovemaking. They talk for what seems like an eternity. The rain continues to pour. Nurturing the earth, the light tapping of water against the windows makes both Black Beauty and Max a little nostalgic for the mutual pleasure they experienced moments before.

What should they do? How can they make this flawless night last forever?

Max has an idea.

He pulls back the blanket, kisses her again, hugs her firmly and tells her what’s on his mind. She nods.

She embraces him back, and they make love again.

And again…and again…and again…and into eternity.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl

When you imagine "Muscle Girl," think about Nikki Fuller.
When you imagine “Muscle Girl,” think about Nikki Fuller.

Asian Boy was obsessed with Her. He couldn’t stop thinking about Her. Every night he fantasized about Her. The thought of Her beautiful muscular body grinding against his tiny, scrawny Asian body drove him wild with ecstasy.

Tonight is no exception. Asian Boy is in his apartment watching his favorite video of Her: a crudely shot YouTube video of Her pumping iron at the gym wearing nothing but a bright green bikini.

You can see every inch of Her magnificent body. The bikini leaves little to the imagination.

He can see every drip of sweat streak down Her thick muscled body. He stares in awe as She bench presses 315, squats 405 and deadlifts 500. He watches Her pose for the camera after Her strenuous workout – every muscle on Her divine body glistening, a valuable piece of art in the flesh.

Asian Boy has seen this video hundreds of times. It never gets old. To his misfortune, this is the only video he could find of Her. He’s searched everywhere for another. But so far he’s found nothing.

God, She’s the most gorgeous woman on the planet! Asian Boy is completely enamored by a woman he’s never met. But, in a strange way, he feels a powerful connection to Her. There’s something about the way She looks into the camera that convinces Asian Boy She’s looking specifically at him.

He knows this is crazy, but he knows it’s true.

The woman’s name is Michelle. No last name is given. She’s a professional bodybuilder and powerlifter. She’s competed in contests around the globe. No other information exists about Her.

Where does She live? How old is She? How did She get into weightlifting? What kind of grueling training regimen does She follow in order to develop Her phenomenal muscle mass?

Michelle is a Divine Muscle Goddess of spectacular proportions. The video description details her measurements:

Height: 6’6”
Weight: 267 lbs.
Biceps: 21 inches.
Calves: 19 inches.
Quadriceps: 30 inches.

Wow. Can you believe it? She’s a BEAST. She puts male bodybuilders to shame with Her incredible measurements.

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle. Every Google search turns up nothing. He’s tried “Michelle female bodybuilder,” “Michelle powerlifter,” “Michelle muscle woman,” “Michelle female bodybuilder and powerlifter.”

He’s tried them all. But nothing comes close to finding Her.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s like She doesn’t exist.

But he knows She exists. She has to.

For now, Asian Boy is preoccupied watching a six and a half minute video he’s seen over and over again. He’s memorized every single frame. He’s hopelessly obsessed with this Powerful Muscle Angel. She’s blonde, exceptionally tall, looks to be between 40 and 50 years old and is entirely covered from head to toe with incredibly bulging, rippling muscles.

Asian Boy wouldn’t be surprised if She could bend a crowbar with Her bare hands or rip a phone book in half. Asian Boy could imagine Her doing a whole host of amazing feats of strength.

The video ends. But he wants more of Her. He can’t get enough of Her. He decides to watch it again.

The video starts from the top. Muscle Girl is back at it – bench pressing ten strenuous repetitions till She’s completely out of breath with sweat dripping out of every pore of Her heavenly body.

Asian Boy knows he’ll never be able to make love to a woman like Muscle Girl. Michelle must have countless men clamoring to be with Her. She must have a husband who’s without a doubt the luckiest man on Earth. He’s privileged to be with the most beautiful and strongest woman on the planet.

Asian Boy often fantasized about what it would be like to make love to Muscle Girl. The video half over, Asian Boy closes his eyes and lets his imagination take off…

Dusk.

A secluded beach house on an exotic Caribbean island.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl enter the house after a long walk on the sandy beach. After a hot and humid 97 degree day, the evening has cooled off considerably.

Muscle Girl stands at least a foot taller than Asian Boy, but Asian Boy feels absolutely no insecurity. Muscle Girl is at least 25 years older than Asian Boy, but She feels no qualms about Her age. She’s embraced Her age and understands it’s only a number. At heart, She’s still a young free-spirited woman.

Muscle Girl just won the Ms. Olympia bodybuilding competition for the twelfth year in a row and continues to break world records at a staggering rate. Considered the greatest professional bodybuilder and powerlifter of all time, Muscle Girl has the unquestioned respect of every man and woman in the business.

She’s gained endorsement contracts, movie deals and is an international celebrity. People around the globe admire Muscle Girl’s massive size, unparalleled physical strength, supermodel-like beauty, stark femininity and undisputed greatness.

She’s out-lifted male athletes and bodybuilders. Feminists and social critics praise Her as shattering the stereotype that women are the weaker sex. Muscle Girl is admired for being a woman who, through self-determination and iron will, can achieve anything.

Muscle Girl has become a social icon, a symbol, a cultural warrior.

But none of that matters now. Little does the outside world know that Muscle Girl’s heart belongs to the most unlikely fellow: a short, skinny soft-spoken Asian American young man named Jonathan. Muscle Girl and Asian Boy have dated for almost a year without the paparazzi or even their own families knowing about it.

They prefer their secret relationship stay that way.

But they’re not ashamed of their love. On the contrary, Muscle Girl and Asian Boy would not hesitate to publicly profess their undying love for each other…except they don’t want the perils of fame and fortune getting in the way of their passionate relationship.

Both will admit the jarring contrast between the two: A short, nerdy Asian boy dating a large, tall powerful muscular woman. They turn heads when they’re seen in public together. But they could care less what people think. All they care about is the love they have for each other.

A romantic sunset on the beach.
A romantic sunset on the beach.

The beach house belongs to a friend of Muscle Girl, some rich Hollywood executive. He let Muscle Girl and Asian Boy borrow the house for the week. This unorthodox couple has spent their time exploring the island, eating the local food, exercising at the local gyms, swimming in the Caribbean Sea, soaking up the sun and…

Most of all, their favorite pastime: making love.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl make love constantly and passionately, the internal fire burning inside them refusing to die. When they join together their bodies become one; two unlikely lovers becoming whole.

Upon returning to the beach house, Muscle Girl takes a shower while Asian Boy starts a fire in the fireplace. He pours two glasses of champagne and grabs a fruit platter out of the refrigerator. He then sits and reflects on how they came to this point.

They met when Asian Boy was working as a freelance photographer. One day Muscle Girl was in town to promote Her new line of health clubs. Asian Boy was assigned to snap a few photos of this international celebrity. When they met, it was magic. Muscle Girl was wearing a sports bra and shorts. Asian Boy stood there watching Her, clutching his camera toward his chest. Their eyes met. They knew they had connected on a metaphysical level. She came to him. He said something to Her. She laughed.

The rest, as they say, is history.

When the shower stops, Asian Boy turns around. Sure enough, right on cue, Muscle Girl walks out wearing nothing but a white towel around her torso.

Asian Boy’s heart stops, as it always does.

Though he’s seen Her naked thousands of times, Her magnificent body never fails to steal his breath. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get accustomed to seeing Michelle’s Goddess figure in all its glory.

Muscle Girl: “You poured two glasses of champagne.”

Asian Boy: “Yes, one for me and one for you. Here you go, darling.”

Muscle Girl: “Thank you, lover.”

She takes a sip of Her champagne and sighs deeply. She’s been under a lot of stress lately and desperately needed this vacation to relax and unwind.

Asian Boy: “You never cease to amaze me. You look absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful beyond words.”

Muscle Girl: “Thank you, lover. You look amazing, too.”

He blushes, knowing he’s light years away from looking as great as Her. Sensing his insecurity, Muscle Girl puts the glass of champagne down on the bedside table and approaches Asian Boy slowly. She wraps her thick, strong arms around him and embraces him tightly, communicating Her undying love for him.

They share a long fervent kiss, a spiritual exchange of affection that makes his heart race. She has to look down to meet his lips. He has to look up and stand on his toes.

When they come apart, they stare intimately into each other’s eyes. They know what’s next. Asian Boy opens a window and lets a cool breeze enter. Muscle Girl turns off the lights and allows the fire’s celestial glow to fill the room.

Asian Boy begins to remove his clothing as he has often done in front of Her. Muscle Girl lets the bath towel drop and pool around Her feet, revealing her nude form.

She’s as tall as a basketball player and as thick as a wrestler. She’s a natural blonde with faint traces of white hair mixed in between. Her legs are long and as thick as tree trunks. Her arms bulge in every direction, Her pumped biceps as big as cantaloupes. Her shoulders stretch at least a yard across. Her back is covered with layers and layers of mounds of pure muscle. Her abdomen proudly shows off Her swollen six-pack, a jaw-dropping reminder that Her strong chiseled core could take a punch from a heavyweight prize fighter and not break. Her skin is tanned and rough as leather. At 48 years old, Her age lines and wrinkles do nothing to distract from Her perfectly proportioned face.

She has the body of a Greek goddess, the face of a supermodel, the will power of a marathon runner and the intelligence of an Ivy League professor. It’s by no mistake that She’s the wealthiest female athlete in the world. Her business savvy and unequaled physical strength is the reason why She’s a superstar celebrity. No doubt She’s the most beautiful and intelligent woman he’s ever met.

Asian Boy: “You look divine. I love the way the light from the fire casts shadows across your muscular body. Amazing.”

Muscle Girl: “You’re too kind, lover. Way too kind! Here, let me help you with that.”

Muscle Girl reaches down and unzips Asian Boy’s pants. She pulls down his underwear to reveal his erection, hot and ready for her. Asian Boy knows he isn’t gifted with a large endowment, but that never gets in the way of their lovemaking. She insists size doesn’t matter to Her. Even though he knows She would never lie to him, a small part of him still feels insecure.

Once Asian Boy removes his last article of clothing, hand in hand the two lovers walk to the bed and lie down. Their hands ravenously explore each other’s bodies, touching with finesse and familiarity. He toys with Her nipples, making them stand at attention. She reaches down and strokes his thighs, making him want Her more. They kiss, savoring every single taste.

The tip of his penis brushes slightly against Her six-pack abs. He lets out a soft moan, telling Her he’s more than ready. But She doesn’t want him to enter Her yet. She wants to take this leisurely and enjoy the moment.

Muscle Girl grabs the fruit platter and takes a small sip of Her champagne.

Muscle Girl: “Place the fruit across my body.”

Asian Boy does so without saying a word.

One by one, he places thinly sliced pieces of mango, papaya and pineapple across Her buff body. He puts two blueberries on top of her sensitive nipples and a slice of watermelon across Her wet vulva. He reaches down and tenderly strokes Her enlarged two inch-long clitoris. After years of taking synthetic male hormones, Muscle Girl’s feminine parts grew to superhuman proportions. Unexpectedly, her clitoris expanded by an unbelievable two inches. She refers to this as Her “little penis.”

Asian Boy, constantly taunted by society for having a tiny penis, feels intimidated that a woman could have such an endowment. But he continues to stroke Her little penis and gets down to taste between Her legs.

Muscle Girl: “I like this, lover. I like this a lot.”

Asian Boy puts Her little penis into his mouth and sucks on it joyfully. Muscle Girl chews on a piece of papaya while he satisfies Her. She gags as she comes, a powerful orgasm ripping through Her body. Asian Boy feels the whole bed shake as Her vagina contracts wildly in response.

Minutes later, Asian Boy and Muscle Girl eat all the fruit off Her body. She decides foreplay is over.

Muscle Girl: “Enter me, lover.”

Muscle Girl, now on Her back, spreads Her legs wide for him. Asian Boy grips Her hips, positioning the head of his penis onto Her vulva and enters Her with a single thrust. Both lovers let out a moan as they connect at their most intimate parts, a transcendental form of communication only two perfect lovers could understand.

Slowly he rocks back and forth, building to what would be an earth-shattering climax. They stare into each other’s eyes, expressing a love so beautiful and perfect no two people would ever be able to replicate it. Every nerve ending in his manhood erupts with pleasure as he goes in and out of Her.

Finally, Asian Boy climaxes, emptying himself into Her, hot and sticky.

Muscle Girl, however, does not climax and is hungry for Her own orgasm. She gets up and reaches for the bedside drawer and takes out a nine inch long black dildo. Asian Boy grabs a bottle of lubricant and applies some onto the dildo’s daunting shaft. Muscle Girl leisurely inserts the dildo into Her vaginal canal, enjoying every inch of it. Asian Boy sits back and finishes his champagne.

Her breathing quickens as Her orgasm builds. He watches keenly, wondering if he should be jealous of this nine inch-long contraption. His concentration breaks as She climaxes for the second time, a small amount of feminine juice gushing from Her loins and staining the bed sheets. Muscle Girl, breathless and wheezing furiously, looks down at Her mess.

Muscle Girl: “Looks like I just wet the bed, huh?”

Asian Boy: “Yes you did! We can clean that up later.”

Muscle Girl takes the dildo out of Her womanhood and places it on top of the drawer. She looks at Asian Boy and immediately senses his feeling of emasculation. They live in a cruel world that relentlessly emasculates Asian men. She knows that and kisses him deeply, tasting his essence.

She guides his hands down, encouraging his fingers to enter Her. First, one finger was inside Her. Then two. Then three. Eventually, his entire fist is completely inside Her. She continues to kiss him as his fist pounds into Her, eventually delivering Her third orgasm. Muscle Girl lets out an uninhibited scream. Asian Boy removes his hand from Her vagina.

Muscle Girl finishes Her champagne and eats the last of the fruit, sweat beading on Her coarse skin. To complete the night, they decide to do something they’d only done a few times before.

Muscle Girl dabs a generous amount of lubricant on Asian Boy’s penis and tickles his scrotum. His erection returns. Muscle Girl turns around and gets down on Her hands and knees.

Muscle Girl: “Enter me again, lover. But you know where I want it.”

Asian Boy: “Yes, lover.”

Asian Boy puts his hands on Her bottom, admiring its shape. Then, he thrusts his entire manhood into Her anus, eliciting a throaty moan from both lovers.

Asian Boy: “Am I hurting you?”

Muscle Girl: “Yes, but I don’t care. Do it. I want you to.”

Asian Boy pushes in and out of Her, filling Her tightness with his small manhood. Her groans of pain become louder as his thrusting becomes faster. Both lovers let out a scream so loudly and passionately they could care less if the entire world hears them. To hell with the world.

Muscle Girl stifles a moan as Asian Boy climaxes for the second time that night, filling Her anal cavity with his seed. He immediately pulls out and kisses the back of Her neck. He falls on top of Her and they lay there motionless, their skin covered in sweat.

Muscle Girl: “I love you, Jonathan.”

Asian Boy: “I love you, Michelle.”

Muscle Girl and Asian Boy instantly fall into a peaceful slumber, the cool breeze from outside blanketing their bodies.

Asian Boy then wakes up. Not in the beach house, but in his apartment. Alone, he realizes he’d been dreaming. His computer screen is black and it’s nearly 3:00 a.m. He turns off the computer and rolls onto his side.

He can’t stop fantasizing about Her. He can’t stop imagining what it would be like to make love to a beautiful muscular woman like Her.

Asian Boy silently says a prayer to the Heavens, wishing Her good luck and sweet dreams. Once again, he couldn’t explain how he knew, but Asian Boy senses She heard his prayer. He knew, in a cosmic way, Muscle Girl heard all of his prayers.

His last thought before drifting off to sleep was a thankful wish to Her. Thank you for being a part of my life, he prays, even though She doesn’t know he exist. But he knows She exists, and that’s all that matters.

Goodnight, Muscle Girl.

Goodnight, Asian Boy.

The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode One – The Nameless Woman

I image the Nameless Woman would look like Rena Mero, who played "Sable" in the WWF during the 1990s.
I image the Nameless Woman would look like Rena Mero, who played “Sable” in the WWF during the 1990s.

Max couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming.

Is this room real? Are these walls real? Are the sounds of waves hitting the rocky shore genuine or a part of his rich imagination?

What about the beautiful woman standing across from him? Is she real?

Max couldn’t care less.

He didn’t know the woman’s name. Claire, perhaps? Or is it Jennifer? Or Stacy? Or Miranda? Or something else entirely? Max had no idea.

“I love you,” she says to him.

“I love you, too,” Max impulsively replies, not knowing who this woman is and how she knows him. What would his girlfriend think if she saw the two of them together like this?

Wait…does he even have a girlfriend? He cannot remember.

“Come to me,” she commands.

Max stands up off the bed and slowly approaches her. Shirtless, he suddenly feels inadequate compared to this gorgeous creature. Wearing nothing but white lace panties and a bra, she looks radiant; a glowing picturesque specimen of femininity. But who is she? Where does she come from? How did they make it into this room?

Before he could ponder these questions, he found himself face-to-face with her. He stared into her deep blue eyes, lost in its poetic magnificence. Impulsively, she kisses him, a deep languorous kiss that cuts through any boundaries that may have previously separated them. She tastes like blueberries and sunshine, a combination that only makes sense to him. Max closes his eyes, trying to imagine his girlfriend’s pretty face, but comes up empty. It’s like he’s forgotten what she looks like. Or did he ever know what she looked like to begin with?

Their lips eventually came apart and Max is able once again to breathe. Her breath tickles the small hairs on his neck, making them stand up at attention. Her arms wrap around his body, clinging to him like a small child embracing her mother. Max remains frozen, paralyzed, unable to move.

“I like how you taste,” he says to her.

She smiles. Her long blonde hair bounces as she lets out a tiny giggle. Not a schoolgirl type of giggle, but the giggle of a grown woman seductively flirting with her man. This turned Max on even further, as if he needed the extra inspiration.

Suddenly, she grabs his hand and she pulls him toward the bed. They walk side-by-side and feel the heat of their bodies radiate off each other. She then pushes him onto the bed, an unexpected show of force that takes Max totally by surprise. He feels his manhood quiver at her remarkable display of authority.

The Nameless Woman looks at Max and nods her head slightly, cuing him to remove the remainder of his clothing. He obliges.

First, Max takes off his shoes and socks and tosses them across the room unceremoniously. No need to be neat and tidy, Max decides.

Second, Max unbuckles his belt and drops his pants, revealing the inevitable bulge in his underwear. She giggles again. Was she giggling because his bulge is too small? Or is she giggling because of his quick arousal? Max needed to know…

The Nameless Woman snatches the bottom of his pants and pulls them off Max’s legs. She likewise tosses them across the room, uncaring about cleanliness. Then she zeroes in on Max’s underwear and hooks her index fingers underneath the waist. Max takes a deep breath as she drags his underwear down his body. His erect manhood protrudes outward, greeting her like a hungry beast. She smiles at the sight of his arousal, but does not make a sound.

She drops his underwear to the floor and takes one step back, fully examining Max’s nude form. Does she like what she sees? Is she judging him? Is she unimpressed?

“You’re beautiful,” Max manages to say, his voice squeaky and weak.

“Thank you,” she answers.

Stillness.

After a moment, the Nameless Woman takes several steps back and strikes a pose, showing off her flawless body. Long, curvy and tanned, she is every man’s dream. An impeccable demonstration of what a woman should look like. Her angelic form perfectly complements her gorgeous face, a visage that is seamlessly symmetrical and unapologetic in its youthfulness.

She slides her panties down to the floor, revealing her womanhood. Golden locks of hair cover her most intimate parts, like a magician covers up the secrets of the trade. Her panties pools around her feet and she kicks them off to the side.

Next, she reaches in front of her chest and unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. Max’s eyes could not stop staring at her bountiful breasts, so plump and nubile, unlike the flat bosom of his girlfriend (whose name is merely a long forgotten memory).

Her dark pink nipples stand at attention, ready and willing to be pleased. Max desperately wants to put his mouth around them and suck on them till the day ends. But will she let him? How far can he go with her?

The bright sunlight casts a brilliant aura around her, further validating her Goddess-like nature.

“Lie down on the bed,” she whispers.

“Okay.”

Max does what he’s told and lies down on the bed, his erection standing straight up at attention. Max’s insecurities return. She must have been with hundreds of guys, none of them Asian like himself. All of them better endowed, more handsome and much more pleasant to look at, Max thought. Max couldn’t help it. Insecurities are hard to ignore, especially in moments like this.

As if she read his thoughts, the Nameless Woman sits down on the bed next to him and leans over for another kiss. This time, she uses her tongue to explore the insides of his mouth as if she were claiming him as her own. Max didn’t mind at all. He wants to be claimed. He wants to be hers. He wants her to take charge.

Her hands explore his body, caressing and touching with such a finesse he was sure he was in Heaven. When her fingers tickle his scrotum, Max feels a sudden jolt of electricity shoot up his entire core.

“I…love you,” Max struggles say, wanting to remind her of how much he loves her. Losing his composure as her fingers greedily move their way up to his erect manhood, Max comes to the realization that he’s never felt more like a real man in his entire life. For once, a woman is giving him unbridled pleasure for the sake of pleasing him; not because he wants her to, but because she wants to.

“Shhhhhh. Quiet,” she says back, tantalizing him with her touch.

The moment her fingers wrap tightly around the shaft of his penis, Max lets out a groan and feels his vision blur. A minute contraction surges throughout his manhood, forcing a tiny drop of clear fluid to leak out the tip. The Nameless Woman catches the drip on the tip of her index finger and rubs it into Max’s sensitive head.

Max couldn’t think; he only had one thing in mind: feeling. Feeling her touch, feeling her caresses, feeling her femininity joining his masculinity.

With the erotic artfulness of a skilled lover, she starts to lightly stroke him; up and down, up and down, up and down; until Max lets out another groan, this time harder and louder than the first. Waves of pleasure explode throughout his manhood as she continues to stroke him with sensual finesse. Max has no idea when the last time he ever experienced pleasure this deep, this provocative, this enticing.

Perhaps he’s never experienced this before. Perhaps this is the first time he’s ever felt pleasure in its truest form.

The Nameless Woman stops her stroking and gives Max’s penis a hard squeeze, making his entire body jolt in reaction. Many more small drips of fluid leak out of his manhood, but he has yet to fully come.

Gripping onto his penis more firmly, she knows it wouldn’t be long before Max climaxes. She wants to give him the best orgasm he’s ever felt and intends to make this a reality. She also doesn’t mind being known as “The Nameless Woman” to him. She knows this is all an act, a charade, a game.

She knows who has the REAL power in this relationship.

The Nameless Woman releases her squeeze and Max moans in response. She gives him a second squeeze, then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth. By now Max is on another planet, perhaps a different universe. He never knew his body could produce such pleasurable sensations. He doubts he’ll ever be the same after this.

She knows he’s close. But she wants to tease him even further. She wants to see how far the rabbit hole goes…

Freeing her fingers from his penis completely, the Nameless Woman decides it’s time to change things up. She lightly brushes the tip of her fingers against his tightened scrotum and moves her way up. His penis has become impossibly hard, harder than it’s ever been before. Max’s body has never responded to a woman’s touch this way before. His little penis has probably grown to a size that even male porn stars would consider respectable. But he’s not thinking about the size of his Asian manhood right now. In fact, he’s not thinking at all. This is the power Nameless Woman has over him. She owns him, controlling him, claiming him as her property, her toy, her plaything.

Max takes in a deep breath as her fingers finally brush the sensitive tip of his penis, sliding around the rim. He’s about to blow and they both know it. She decides it’s time to finish the job.

The Nameless Woman encloses her fingers around his shaft once again and grasps it securely, as if her life depended on her hanging on to it. She caresses his shaft up and down again and increases her pace as she sees fit. Max knows it’s going to end soon and closes his eyes to soak up the entire experience. He knows he’ll never experience pleasure so transcendent again in his lifetime. He knows…

She stops stroking him and gives him one last hard squeeze.

Eureka!

“Ah!” Max moans.

She lets go and watches Max ejaculate all over the bed sheets. Normally when he climaxes, his penis releases three or four squirts of semen before simmering down, but this time Max spurts six or seven times, all more powerful and potent than he’s ever spurted before.

After his spasms finally subside, the Nameless Woman snickers as she sees a large white pool of liquid spread all over the dark blue bed sheets. Max is currently on Cloud 9 and could care less what mess he’s made. This isn’t the first time he’s stained the sheets and it won’t be the last.

Several minutes later, Nameless Woman leans over and stares into Max’s eyes. They share an intimate moment together, a spiritual form of communication that could never be replicated nor understood by anybody else.

He cannot even begin to thank her for the selfless pleasure she’s given him. Knowing she unselfishly gave him pleasure when she expected nothing in return brings tears to his eyes. The gift of her divine touch will be a debt he could never repay. But she doesn’t expect to be repaid for her gift. Knowing he’s at peace is enough for her. And this peace brings tears to her eyes as well.

Finally, they share a kiss that lasts for an eternity. Is it a literal eternity? Probably not, but neither of them care at this point. Max closes his tear-soaked eyes and concentrates on feeling her lips against his. She tastes sweet and powerfully feminine, a taste Max could never put into words.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he drifts off to sleep, but when he did the Nameless Woman disappears along with her surroundings. The sunlight stops shining. The waves stop hitting the shore. All of that goes away as quickly as it appeared. The shared experience they had together is now a distant memory that neither will ever forget. Whatever comes next is completely irrelevant at this moment, when all that matters is the beautiful fact that a woman just gave a man the greatest pleasure he’s ever known.

Max still couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming, but he knew one thing for sure:

He was alive.

And he was thankful for it.

New Series: The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura

Thank you to everyone who is reading my blog! I’m quickly approaching 10,000 hits, which is far more than what I ever expected when I first started this blog last year.

I’ve been super busy during the past few months, which is why I haven’t been able to publish more chapters of “The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi” series. But don’t worry: his adventures are far from being over.

In the meantime, I’m going to start a new series called “The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura” which will consist of a series of dream sequences by the title character, who is not unlike Ryan Takahashi, as one might expect. These stories are meant to be quick, fun reading that may inspire you to seek some “alone time.”

Of course, I’m not implying that I’m that great of a writer! Hopefully my writing improves the longer I keep doing it.

So…have a happy week. I hope you are all at peace with your lives, no matter where you live. I’m constantly humbled and awestruck whenever I see that people from diverse countries are stumbling upon my blog. Who knew folks from Lithuania, Latvia, Cyrus and Saudi Arabia are reading what yours truly publishes on the web?

Have a great Thursday. I also appreciate all the kind comments people are posting. I’ve only gotten one negative comment, but that doesn’t deter me. Who has time for people who don’t like you? Not me.

Sincerely,

Ryan

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Twenty-One – Cheering Up

I need some cheering up. It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m still not close to landing a replacement job. I realize it’s been less than a week, but there’s got to be something out there for me, right?

Uh, maybe not. Maybe there isn’t anything out there for me right now.

I mean, I’m not going to become a high class drug dealer and follow Sam’s footsteps. I have standards! I’m more willing to go back to that God-forsaken temporary staffing place than sell dope to the rich and famous.

Sheesh. I really need some cheering up.

And I think I know the precise medicine: spending another night with Cindi.

Oh, Cindi. You are so beautiful. Tall, muscular, powerful, sexually confident, compassionate, funny, intelligent, gentle…you get it. She’s awesome. So fucking awesome.

God, I need some Cindi North right now! Like, right now! This very instant.

Now.

But it’s Saturday afternoon, so I’m just a few hours closer to seeing the Divine Muscle Goddess again. I promised last time that I’d bring something other than a bottle of wine, so I better keep that promise. What should I bring? I think something healthy and delicious will give me bonus points with her. Let’s check out what the interwebs can tell me…

Hmmm. Gluten-free Yorkshire pudding? Yuck. That doesn’t sound too appetizing.

I don’t think I should do anything with meat. I’m sure Cindi loves a good steak like anybody else, but she said something healthy, so I better stick to the script on this one. How about…

Oh! Here it is! “Curried couscous and red pepper salad.” That sounds delectable. In fact, that sounds pretty darn good. I think I’ll make that.

I run down the street to the store and buy all the necessary ingredients. While standing in the check-out line I see a former co-worker from Wellford Fitness Center and divert my eyes in order to prevent him from seeing me. When I see him leave, I begin to wonder: does everybody know about me and Michelle? Does everyone there know we got fired because we were caught by the boss going at it like dogs at 10:30 in the morning?

No doubt, but I still don’t want to be seen in public by any of them. Granted, I have nothing to be ashamed about. I mean, what straight guy wouldn’t be proud to have had sex with a gorgeous blonde like Michelle? I’d shake the hand of the guy who’s lucky enough to score someone as hot as her.

Which makes me also wonder: In the past few weeks, I’ve been with a strong female bodybuilder AND a hot blonde. Just thinking about that makes me smile with pride. Knowing I was a virgin not so long ago nearly makes me laugh out loud.

As I prepare this couscous salad, it starts to sink in that I’m going to see the Lovely Muscle Angel in less than three hours. She didn’t give me a specific time to show up, but I’m going to assume 5 o’clock should be acceptable.

The clock on the wall says 4:38. Time to go!

I quickly wrap the bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad (which I tasted before to make sure it’s good) in plastic wrapping and scurry out the door excitedly. It’s not every day you get to meet up with an amazing muscle woman like Miss Cindi North!

The drive up to Everett zooms by quicker than a fat kid eating a Twinkie (yes, I just used this lousy analogy. Live with it). I decide to go the speed limit instead of flooring the pedal because I can’t afford to get a speeding ticket at this time. I’m broke and unemployed. A fine from Johnny Law would not bode well for me.

When I arrive at her house I notice not a single car is parked near her driveway. Is she not here yet? I’m here a bit before 5 p.m., but she should be expecting me. Maybe she parked her car in her garage. That’s always a possibility.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye I see a trashy blue sedan park right in front of me. I look forward and see a big, burly dark haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Yup, that’s her alright!

We both get out of our cars and lock our doors simultaneously. We stare at each other and smile unapologetically.

“Ryan! It’s good to see you! Were you waiting for me for a long time?”

“No. I just got here, literally a minute ago. No, you’re fine.”

Carrying two large grocery bags, Cindi looks as stunning as ever. Dressed in a tight pink top and baggy dark green sweat pants, she seems to become more muscular every time I see her. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Cindi North’s body will never cease to amaze me. Never.

“Come on in. I just did some shopping for dinner tonight. And other things, of course. It’s convenient when the store is right across the street from the gym.”

“I know the feeling.”

Cindi escorts us inside her house. I shut the door close behind me. She immediately heads over to the kitchen to put her groceries away. I follow her, clutching my bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad tightly in my arms.

“What did you bring, lover?” Cindi asks while putting items away in the refrigerator.

“I made a salad. Something healthy. I hope you like it. It’s a curried couscous and red pepper salad. I tasted it ahead of time. It’s quite good.”

“Wow! That sounds incredible. I can’t wait to try it.” Placing several cans of tomato sauce into a cupboard, Cindi seems to be in a more festive mood than usual.

“You seem upbeat, Cindi. Dare I ask why?”

“Do I? I guess I do feel a bit snazzier tonight. Maybe it’s because I just a modeling job this morning!”

“Really? You got a modeling job? Congratulations. That sounds like a fantastic opportunity.”

“It really is. It’s with this new modeling agency that specializes in featuring unorthodox and nontraditional types of models. As a female bodybuilder, I guess I fit that bill.” Cindi is now pouring salt and extra virgin olive oil into a large soup pot. She turns the stove on to “medium” and takes more items out of her grocery bags, including various vegetables and spices.

“Well, you are a nontraditional looking woman. Not too many ladies around here have as much muscle as you, I must say.” My mouth becomes dry as I scan up and down her buff body.

“Yeah, this is true. I’m happy to get the exposure that comes from modeling. I know they’re a small company and I’m just one of many models they’ve hired, but I get a feeling this is the start of something special!”

An hour later, Cindi puts the finishing touches on dinner. We end up eating a lovely leek and spinach tomato stew served with my salad and a freshly baked baguette. Toward the end of dinner Cindi brings out a delightful bottle of merlot that we nearly finish all at once. A good time was had by all.

“That was delicious, Cindi.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it. This was a recipe I got from Julie.” Cindi and I clean up the dining table and place our dishes in the sink. I courteously give them a good rinse.

“What’s Julie up to these days?”

“She’s doing great. She’s training for a major competition that I’m going to skip this year. I’ve won it before and I don’t need to win it again. I feel like if I don’t compete she’ll have a better chance of winning.”

“So you think you’ll win again if you decided to compete?”

Cindi turns toward me and stares at me straight into the eyes. Her face is deadly serious.

“Of course. I always win. I’m practically letting her win.”

Silence.

We both burst out laughing. This is what I LOVE about Cindi North. She’s big, strong and tough as nails but she has a huge soft spot underneath all her layers of muscle and brawn. We share a kiss after our laughter dies out.

“You taste delicious, Ryan.” Cindi licks her lips, tasting my essence.

“You taste like leeks,” I deadpan.

Cindi giggles and kisses me again, this time deeper and with more passion. I feel her tongue piercing inside my mouth, exploring me feverously.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Cindi whispers into my ear. I nod my head in agreement. And with that, we walk hand-in-hand up to her bedroom, as if we’ve done this many times before. In a strange and unusual way, it genuinely feels like we’ve done this a million times in the past. I can’t explain why, but this feels SOOOOOOOO right.

We enter her bedroom and instantaneously begin our mating ritual. She closes the blinds and I close the door. We simultaneously turn toward each other and begin our stare-down, like two scruffy gunslingers in the Old West. Cindi walks to me and wraps her strong arms around my entire body. I quiver at the feeling of her vascular, veiny arms poking into my softer skin. I feel my manhood harden as I have to look up to reach her lips.

We kiss. Again. And again, and again, and again. We love kissing. Next to coital penetration, it might be our favorite shared physical activity.

After a moment of stillness, Cindi lifts my shirt over my head and starts kissing my stomach and moves up to my chest and neck. I reach down and pull her sweatpants down, fondling her massive legs one thigh at a time. I feel the deep curves within her strong quads and shiver at their thickness. Cindi licks my Adam’s apple, causing me to squirm in response. She massages the back of my neck in an effort to relax me.

“You smell so good right now,” I whisper into the open. Cindi answers back by gently biting into my shoulder. I tremble as her teeth lovingly sink into my flesh.

Cindi unilaterally strips off her pink top, revealing her wide chest. She’s not wearing a bra, so I immediately suck on her left nipple and stroke the other with my fingertips. Cindi unzips my pants and pulls them down toward my ankles. I kick them away and bend down to remove my socks. Barefoot, Cindi is left wearing nothing but lacy white panties which are already soaking wet. I feel her vulva to get a better sense of her feminine moisture. She smiles.

“I was ready half way through dinner,” she chuckles.

“Why didn’t we starting doing it then?” I ask.

“I wanted to eat first.”

“Well…I want to eat NOW.” I bend down and pull down her panties and begin licking her vulva with all the strength of my tongue. Cindi laughs at my terrible joke but stops when she feels my tongue explore the inside of her intimate parts.

“Make me come, Ryan. Make my come!” Cindi commands, standing there as naked as the day she was born.

I push Cindi onto the bed and she flops down on her back. Surprised at my unexpected display of brute strength, she moans delightfully as I continue to orally satisfy her. Her large clitoris stands at attention, her “little penis” occupying more and more of my attention. I get the feeling Cindi likes a man who takes control in bed. Though I may not be the most experienced lover in the world, I’ve learned a lot in the past few weeks and I’m becoming more comfortable taking the lead.

I grip her hips firmly as my tongue continues to please her beautiful vulva. I then fully concentrate on her clitoris in order to bring her to orgasm. Cindi’s breathing quickens as I continue to massage her girly penis. I stick my right index finger inside of her and find her g-spot.

“Ryan! I love you, Ryan!” Cindi candidly yells out in the heat of passion. Her gorgeous clitoris takes one final tongue lashing before Cindi finally climaxes. I press onto her g-spot when I sense she’s successfully reached her moment of ecstasy.

“Ohhhh!!!!!!” Cindi moans, expressing her pleasure unashamedly. Her vaginal walls contract rhythmically as a modest amount of white milky fluid gradually drips out of her, staining her bedspread.

I remain still as Cindi finishes wriggling around the bed, enjoying the aftershocks of her pleasure. Her breathing subsides to normalcy as my erection lays across her right thigh, ready to be pleased. I lean over and kiss her eight-pack abs, one individual ab at a time. I lick her bellybutton as well.

She briefly starts to stroke my penis, forcing a small drip of clear fluid to escape from it. But Cindi decides now is not the time to satisfy me yet. She gets up in a sitting position and wipes a small amount of vaginal juice that leaked onto her bottom. She kisses me again, sending electric jolts running through my entire system. Her hands explore my hands as her large, strong fingers interlock with my smaller, softer fingers. We look at each other.

“Before I satisfy you, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Cindi. I’ll do anything. Just ask.”

Cindi kisses me again, firmly grabbing both of my hands. She takes a few of my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them sensually. I feel like my erection is about to explode, but I contain my excitement and enjoy the pleasure she is giving me.

She leans over and nibbles on my ear. She rubs her saliva onto my fingers.

“Fist me,” she whispers.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Nineteen – Fired

Sure enough, I was very sore the next day. Come Monday morning, I could barely get out of bed without being reminded of my aching pelvis.

Oh well. That’s a small price to pay for experiencing the greatest night of my life.

The greatest night of my life. Yes…I can actually say that. It truly was the greatest single night of my life. The morning afterward wasn’t bad either.

But alas, I have to go to work because that’s what responsible adults do. So here I am, it’s 10:26 a.m. and I’m stuck in the laundry room cleaning sweat towels nobody bothered to do anything about yesterday. This is not an unusual occurrence.

Ho hum. What to do? I have to wait a whole week till I can see Cindi again. Damn. That’s going to be hard. All I can think about is Cindi North and the carnal activities we shared on Saturday night. I bet if I told every single person here at Wellford Fitness Center I had sex with a female bodybuilder this past weekend, none of them would believe me.

Who cares? I know it’s true and that’s all that matters.

Michelle, the cute receptionist/personal trainer whom every guy here wants to bang, enters the laundry room carrying a whole new batch of dirty towels. Good God, how many are there? I can’t remember the last time I had to clean so many at once. Is there a sweat epidemic going on around here?

“Here you go. Sorry, Ryan.” Michelle sets the basket down on a table next to me.

“No problem. It’s my job. Are there more people than usual here today?”

“Yes, I think so. I had four clients show up already. That almost never happens.”

“Hm.” My monotonous response is borne out of the dread of having to smell more people’s drippings. Will this madness ever stop?

Michelle prepares to leave but stops before she gets through the door.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I turn around, surprised by this. Michelle almost NEVER wants to make casual conversation with me. Especially when we’re busy at work. Doesn’t she have another client to attend to? And why would she want to hang out around here? I’d think the stench alone would encourage her to run out of here as fast as she can.

“Sure, Michelle. What’s your question?”

“Are you dating that girl that I saw you with the other day?”

I’m taken aback by this comment. Who is she referring to? Cindi North? Did Michelle see me with Cindi North this past weekend? That’s impossible, unless Michelle happened to be in Everett at the same time I was. I suppose that’s possible, but it’s not likely…

“What girl are you talking about? Does she work out here?”

“Yes, she does. I saw you talking with this really pretty black girl at that coffee place down the road. Are you hooking up with her or something?”

“Oh! You mean Monifa. You’re right; I was having lunch with her last week. No, we’re not dating. We just met each other. Gee, you’re quite the stalker!”

Michelle takes a few steps toward me, assuring me she wasn’t being a creeper. Ah…this makes sense! Of course she wouldn’t have seen me with Cindi North. She easily could have seen me with Monifa. And, Monifa does in fact work out here regularly.

“Ha! I’m not stalking you. I just thought it was kind of cool. Do you know she’s one of my clients now? I’m helping her get ready for a bodybuilding competition.”

My head starts to spin as I hear this. Monifa is training to become a bodybuilder? Really? Does she have time to do that? I guess bodybuilding is sort of an art and she does consider herself to be an “artist.” She can live her life the way she wants to, I suppose.

“You are? That’s kind of cool. I had no idea she wants to become a bodybuilder.”

“She says it’s something she wants to try. Why not? Live a little, right?”

“Right. Live a little.”

I stare down at the floor. I sense Michelle is doing the same thing. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had together. She doesn’t usually have this much to say to me. I guess it is rather juicy to see a client have lunch with a coworker outside of work.

“Ryan? Can I ask you another question?”

My eyes leave the floor. I look up at her. Michelle looks gorgeous today, her beach blonde hair waving carelessly below her shoulders. Her fit, toned body is openly on display in her tight black Wellford Fitness Center shirt and petite white shorts. Her breasts look scrumptious, as if they’re beckoning me to give them a firm squeeze. I know for a fact I’d be fired for sexual harassment if I ever considered doing that!

“Yeah, sure. What’s your other question?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Silence.

“Um…uh…I, er, I…”

“Answer me truthfully. Don’t worry. I won’t get offended by whatever you say.”

“Uh…yes! I do find you attractive. You’re one of the prettiest people I know. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes it does. Thanks.”

“Hm…why do you ask? That’s not exactly a typical normal question you ask a coworker, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do. I ask that because…this is going to sound weird, but…when I saw you and Monifa having lunch together that day…I, uh, felt a little…jealous.” Michelle is now the one staring down at the floor. Her feet shift side to side uncomfortably.

I think about this for a moment. Jealous? Why on earth would Michelle, a Perfect Blonde, a Perfect 10, be jealous seeing me having lunch with another woman? It’s not like Michelle and I ever dated before. We’re just coworkers! To top it off, this is without a doubt the longest conversation I’ve ever had with her in all the years we’ve worked together.

WTF???

“Jealous? Um, why are you jealous seeing me with her?”

“I don’t know! I just felt a bit, you know, betrayed seeing you with her. I know…this shit makes no sense. I’m fucked up in the head or something, you know?”

“No, no, no…you’re not fucked up or anything. Maybe you feel, I don’t know…like you’re in competition with her. Is that it?”

“Yeah…that’s probably it. She’s gorgeous and she has a fucking amazing body. I look terrible compared to her.”

“Hey, don’t say that! You look great. Why would you think you look terrible? That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m old. I feel so old!” Tears start to form in her eyes. Oh great! Michelle’s having a midlife crisis at the tender age of 36. Cindi’s 48 and you never see her complain about her age. What’s the world coming to–

“Fuck me.”

My mind turns blank. I look at Michelle but nothing registers in my mind. Did I just hear that correctly?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Fuck me. Right here, right now. Fuck me!”

“Um…I don’t know about this. Isn’t this a bit…sudden?”

“I don’t give a shit. I want you to fuck me, Ryan!”

Michelle turns around, pulls down her shorts and her panties and bends over, exposing her gorgeous round butt to me. Her vulva is glistening, wet and ready. Unlike Cindi, Michelle’s pink vaginal lips look soft and feminine, whereas the Muscle Goddess looks like a burlap sack down there (I know, that’s a crude analogy, but give me a break!). My penis hardens and stands at attention, awakening to this unexpected opportunity.

“I’m not so sure about this…what if Thomas sees us?”

“Who gives a shit about him? I want you to fuck me! Fuck me now!”

“Oh, uh, do you have a condom?”

“Screw that shit! I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yeah…I’m clean.”

“Then we don’t need one. What the fuck are you waiting for? I’ve asked you a million times to fuck me! What are you, scared?”

Scared? Hell no! I’m not scared! What gives her the right to call me scared?

“Fuck you! I’m not scared of anything!”

Anger running through my system, I unzip my pants, pull down my underwear, grip Michelle’s hips and shove my penis inside her, hard and reckless. This time, I’m going to take charge and fuck her like she’s never been fucked before!

Like two wild animals, Michelle remains bent over as I thrust into her from behind. My fingers dig into her flesh as I pound and pound, releasing any pent-up aggression and any doubt that I’m afraid to have sex with a woman in a public place. Wow! This is really something. A beautiful blonde just pulled down her pants and demands I shtup her on the spot.

What is this, the plot to a cheap porno?

As my penis continues to thrust in and out of her, Michelle’s heavy breathing gives way to a loud moan and fills the entire room. Not even the rumble of the washing machine cleaning the towels can completely muffle the sound of us fornicating in the laundry room.

A million thoughts run through my mind at once. Here I am having sex with a prototypical blonde bombshell who never spoke more than two sentences to me at a time. She’s also someone with a checkered past, given the less-than-stellar reputations of some of her previous boyfriends. I also realize she might be going through an early midlife crisis and this is her way of reclaiming her lost youth. Is she jealous that I preferred to socialize with a younger woman like Monifa instead of her? But she never gave any indication that she wants anything to do with me!

And she’s only 36! She’s not old. She looks great for her age. She looks like she can pass for 23 or 24…

These thoughts linger as my orgasm builds ferociously. I feel my climax approaching. My quick thrusts become slower and more measured as I try to penetrate her as deep as I can. I keep imagining Big Danny (her ex-husband) and his extremely huge penis thrusting into her tight little body. How am I doing? Can I compare to him? Is my little Asian penis any match for Danny’s gargantuan, monstrous endowment? Is she feeling anything?

Her loud moans stop and she lets out an uncontrolled scream, loud enough that I’m sure everyone outside this room can hear. But I don’t care about that as I sense my climax coming closer and closer…

“Hey! What the hell!!!”

Michelle stops moving and stands upright. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thomas Wellford, our boss and owner of this gym, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and outrage on his face. The moment Michelle sees we’ve been caught she jerks forward, my penis suddenly leaving her vagina. This sudden jerk is the final act of stimulation I need to come…

“Aggghhhhh!” I groan, looking up with my eyes closed as I ejaculate all over the floor.

“Holy shit!” Michelle screams to herself, realizing our impromptu coitus session will get both of us in big trouble.

Thomas closes the door behind him and takes a few cautious steps toward us. My mind returning back to reality, I look down and see my semen sprawled across the floor. Did my boss just see me come? Oh FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This…is…unbelievable, you two. This is serious. What the hell are you doing?!!!!” Thomas yells at us. This is going to get ugly. Really ugly. Oh shit…

Michelle’s face is beet red. We’ve been caught literally with our pants down. This is definitely THE MOST AWKWARD MOMENT OF MY LIFE!

“I don’t believe this shit. Half the gym can hear you guys fucking. Are you both out of your minds? What the fuck is going on here? Don’t you know what professionalism means? Really? You two are fucking…in here? During work hours? What the HELLLLLL!!!!!!”

Thomas is REALLY pissed. Holy mother of God. This is bad.

At this moment, Thomas is steaming (I swear I can see smoke coming out of his ears), Michelle is crying and I’m befuddled beyond words.

And this entire time, my semen is awkwardly lying on the floor.

Fuck my life…

***

I’ll spare you the ugly details, but long story short…we both got fired.

Michelle was supposed to see a client but she never reported to the front desk, so Thomas personally searched all over the building for her. And when he found us, we were “in flagrante delicto,” going at it like two bunny rabbits during mating season.

We said nothing to each other as Michelle and I gloomily walked out of the fitness center with our heads hanging low. No words, no looks, nothing to acknowledge that we even know each other. There we were, no more than twenty minutes earlier screwing each other like wild dogs, pretending like we’re total strangers.

This is a sad day for both of us.

Fired. Just like that. Out of a job. Nothing can possibly make this painful awkwardness go away.
This is going to be the longest walk home EVER.

Ten minutes later, emotions still flooding through me, I had a thought. As we speak, some poor chap at the Wellford Fitness Center, probably either Robbie or Maria (two employees who regularly work there when I do), is on their knees scrubbing my semen off the floor.

My semen. My seed.

Awkwardly staining the carpet.

This thought puts a smile across my face.

The Strangeness of Having a Female Muscle Fetish

Lauren Powers is lovely.

I often wonder how many straight men, if they were forced to give an honest answer, would admit to being attracted to muscular women.

Mainstream society tends to frown upon women who’ve gained too much muscle. For example, we like our female athletes to remain feminine, beautiful and graceful even when they’re in the middle of hitting a tennis ball, shooting a free throw, skiing, sprinting at full speed or smacking a softball. Gymnasts, naturally, are supposed to be graceful, so this is an obvious exception.

Female athletes like Venus and Serena Williams, Hope Solo and Lolo Jones are right at the cusp of being “too muscular” while remaining “easy on the eyes.” As long as they keep winning Olympic medals and championship trophies, we’ll endure seeing their non-conformist figures on ESPN for now.

But this is not supposed to be a rant against sexism in mainstream American sports. This is about something else entirely.

In a previous post, I talked about the allure of female bodybuilders. This post is by far the most popular individual post I’ve written on this blog. I think its popularity can be credited to two aspects: 1. Search engines like Google and Bing, and 2. Curiosity.

Straight men (I can’t speak for lesbian women) are not often given a forum to discuss weird sexual fetishes in places other than the Internet. You don’t often hear two dudes talk about their love for feet at a crowded Starbucks on a lazy Sunday morning. Nor do you hear a bunch of football lovin’ good ol’ boys talk about their “thing” for overweight MILFs while watching the game at a bar. These are not topics we discuss in public.

So, I will attempt to dissect and explain to the best of my abilities my personal reasons for being sexually attracted to muscular women. Let’s see where this goes…

The Beginning of My Awakening

This is how it all started. Embarrassing, I know.

I understand “The Beginning of My Awakening” sounds ridiculously overdramatic, but bear with me.

I can’t pinpoint an exact time when I began to be attracted to muscled ladies, but I think it can be traced to this one time when I was a little boy (I was probably no more than 8-years-old), I was at a video store (for you young kids out there, once upon a time ago when we wanted to watch a movie we had to go to a video store like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video and rent a VHS cassette. This is practically ancient history) with my mom and I saw the cover for the movie “Red Sonja,” a cheesy 1985 B-action movie starring Brigitte Nielsen and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I will admit, I’ve never seen this movie nor do I ever plan on seeing it. The 4.7 rating it received on IMDb is not exactly convincing me to go out and rent it.

Alina Popa is divine.

But I distinctly remember, as an impressionable prepubescent little boy, being taken aback by the movie’s cover: It showed two warriors, one male and one female. The male is obviously strong and tough, which any male action hero should be. But seeing a female warrior also look intimidating and ready to kick butt opened my eyes to a whole other world.

Women can be tough, too.

As an 8-year-old boy raised on hyper-violent Saturday morning cartoons and action figures, this was without a doubt a paradigm-shifting realization.

Of course, as I got older I started to “notice” girls once puberty hit. At the tender age of 12, I encountered my second experience with a tough, nontraditional woman. My parents bought a copy of the Guinness Book of World Records for the year 1999 and inside were tons of colorful photos of people doing all sorts of weird and hardcore things.

One page stood out in particular, though: a full color photo of Cory Everson. In it, she looked startling. It was the first time I’d ever seen a woman with bulging muscles all over her body.

She looked freakish; as if she weren’t human. I didn’t want to say she looked gross, but my hormone-driven mind couldn’t process what I was seeing: a woman with muscles. In the years afterward, I would continuously turn back to this particular page to gaze upon this indescribably sight.

Later, when my family first got the Internet (we had dial-up. Remember that?), I discovered the joys of online porn. Like any teenage boy discovering the opposite sex (and the concept of “sex”), viewing pictures of naked women on a computer screen occupied many hours of my life and led me to also discover masturbation, an activity I still enjoy today.

However, it wasn’t until college that I truly became enamored with muscled women.

The Female Muscle Fetish Begins

As a freshman in college, I began to work out regularly. During high school I casually lifted weights at home, but the first time I ever stepped foot into a gym was visiting my university’s recreational center on campus. It was small and, looking back upon it, unremarkable; but it was a gym nevertheless.

I lifted weights probably around three times a week. As a beginning weightlifter, I used poor form and technique like any novice would. It even came to a point when people working out next to me would stop me during my work out and tell me how to do certain lifts the right way. Those were embarrassing moments.

Lisa Marie Bickels changed my life. Will she change yours?

This video changed my life, just like that cover of “Red Sonja” and that photo of Cory Everson. Though the video was amateurish and grainy, it showed a beautiful woman working out and showing off her gorgeous muscled arms. Sculpted and divine, Ms. Bickels opened my eyes to an Earth-shattering fact: muscular women can also be feminine and beautiful.

That hyper-muscular photo of Ms. Everson isn’t the only way to view female bodybuilders. They don’t all look “man-like.” They’re just typical women. The only difference is that they’re women who strive to be as strong as possible.

Who wouldn’t want Czech muscle goddess Katka Kyptova as a workout buddy?

As expected, over time I visited YouTube and watched videos of countless other female bodybuilders such as Karen Zaremba, Maryse Manios, Deidre Pagnanelli, Lynn McCrossin, Monica Brant, Krissy Chin and others. I must have seen literally hundreds of videos during my freshman year of these well-defined ladies posing for photos, doing incredible lifts or being interviewed.

It wasn’t until after graduation when I moved back home that I discovered a whole other world: Hardcore porn.

The World of Smut

I feel like this is a progression. First, it was a cover of a b-movie. Next, it was a sports photo in a record book. Then it was a short online video of a woman exercising. Then it was a whole slew of YouTube videos of muscle ladies doing their thing.

Finally, we get to the next step in my personal muscle fetish evolution: porn.

The first hardcore porn video I ever saw was Lynn McCrossin and Yvette Bova, two gorgeous FBBs, pleasuring each other in a steam room. Before then, I’d never seen a woman’s genitalia up close and personal on a computer screen before. And not just any type of genitalia: These two women have very large feminine endowments, something you don’t see every day.

Yvette Bova is not afraid to flaunt her sexuality.

This epic discovery opened the doors to watching other kinds of videos: Female bodybuilders having sex with men, FBBs having sex with each other, FBBs masturbating, FBBs playing with sex toys, FBBs posing nude, etc. This was the first time I ever saw female bodybuilders as sexual beings. I definitely fantasized about them before, but I’d never actually seen them in action before until now.

Smut can be a funny thing. Once you see what people choose to do in their bedrooms, you can never look at the world the same way.

Watching porn (both hardcore and softcore) introduced me to other female bodybuilders like Francesca Petitjean, Denise Masino, Melissa Dettwiller, Lauren Powers, Gayle Moher, Yvette Bova, Victoria Dominguez, Amber DeLuca, Autumn Raby, Roxie Rain and plenty others. While I don’t want to categorize any of them as “pornographic actresses,” I discovered these women thanks to videos of them either being nude and/or engaging in sex acts.

Another photo of Lisa Cross. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Along the way, I also discovered other FBBs like Alina Popa, Katka Kyptova, Lisa Cross, Angela Salvagno, Karla Nelsen, Colette Nelson and others via Dailymotion, Google Images and Facebook pages.

Regarding FBBs and porn, I could write a whole post discussing this topic. But for now, I’ll just say this: If a woman (or man) makes an independent decision to pose for photos or shoot videos that are sexually explicit, who are we to judge? It’s their bodies. They can do whatever they want with it.

Fantasy vs. Reality

Unlike a lot of guys who are into muscle women, the sub-genre of erotica called “Female Muscle Growth” stories isn’t really my thing. These stories usually involve a guy meeting a dainty, weak girl who, either by magic or through some scientific potion, grows a freakish amount of muscle to become superhuman. For whatever reason, I’m only attracted to watching and looking at strong, muscled women doing real things; like pumping iron, posing for pictures or doing whatever they do in porn.

Personally, I’ve never met a professional (or amateur) female bodybuilder, so my only exposure to FBBs is through the glorious wonders of the Internet.

The closest I’ve ever been to a real FBB was back in college when, for some reason I could never quite figure out, I walked past a woman (she was older and clearly not a student) in our student union building with huge arms busting out of her short sleeve shirt. I didn’t get a clear look at her, but I could tell she didn’t just casually lift at the gym. I could tell she puts extra effort into her exercising.

Speaking of the gym, most of the women who go to my gym either do only cardio exercises or attend classes like Zumba, Pilates and yoga. Only a small handful of women lift with us guys. Of them, only two of these ladies have any discernible muscle definition. Too bad.

So…in other words, I’m attracted to the real thing, not a fantasy. I’m not turned on by the idea of a strong, muscular woman. I’m turned on by actual strong, muscular women. Nor do I have any alternative fantasies involving role playing or BDSM.

The idea of wrestling an FBB doesn’t appeal to me. Neither is being tied up and spanked by one. Nor do I want an FBB to wrap her legs around me in a headlock. Instead, I’d prefer to make love to a beautiful, strong athletic woman just as though she were any other kind of woman.

Karen Zaremba is living proof that muscles doesn’t in any way shape or form compromise a woman’s femininity.

I guess this means I don’t necessarily fetishize female bodybuilders; I’m just attracted to them in a special way. They’re women who take great care of their bodies. They’re women who spend countless hours pumping iron at the gym and making lots of dietary and lifestyle sacrifices in order to get their bodies to look the way they want it to look. There’s a lot to admire about that.

Some women starve themselves to look “beautiful.” Others go under the knife to remove any perceived “blemishes.” Some hate themselves because when they look in the mirror all they can see are “imperfections.” My previous post about FBBs best summarizes why I’m personally attracted to a woman with muscle. The purpose of this post is to give you some context and perhaps a deeper explanation.

So…What’s the Big Deal Anyway?

Simply put, I’m attracted to female bodybuilders because they are, quite simply, beautiful. I hope others who share my attraction feel the same way. I hope you now understand that being attracted to a lovely muscled lady isn’t weird, strange or disgusting. There’s nothing incomprehensible about it.

A woman with muscles is still a woman. She’s not a woman trying to be a man. She’s a woman trying to become the best woman she can possibly be. That’s another great reason to be physically and emotionally attracted to her.

Perhaps, little by little, society can start accepting muscular woman as a normal thing instead of a freak of nature. I strongly believe when people are disgusted by a muscled woman, it’s because there’s some deep rooted sexism at play. Plenty of people in our society still expect women to be dainty, weak and ultra-feminine. Anyone who rebels against this is either a “gender traitor” or a monster.

Look at the photos of the FBBs I’ve put in this post. Are any of them disgusting to you? Do you find any of them “masculine,” “repulsive,” or “monstrous?” If you do, I think that reflects more on you than it does on me.

But please don’t misinterpret me. I’m not claiming to be some quasi-feminist activist. I’m not claiming to be “sexually progressive” in my attraction to FBBs. I’m not trying to destroy the foundations of gender roles or sexual politics by this post or through my blog. All I want to do is express my opinion that being attracted to a muscular woman isn’t all that strange.

In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Muscular women are healthy, curvy, dedicated, passionate and strong-willed. Who could possibly be turned off by that?

So the next time you encounter or see an image of a female bodybuilder, female athlete or a woman who takes her fitness hobbies very seriously, keep an open mind and try to appreciate a different side of life.

Who knows? You might just enjoy it.

You also might enjoy this shot of the lovely Victoria Dominguez.

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.

Six Words I’ll Never Use When Writing Erotica

I’ll admit. I’m a newbie.

This blog is my first ever venture into writing erotica.

And what an adventure it has been!

I’ve learned a lot from reading other blogs to see their approaches to writing online erotic stories. I’ve also learned quite a bit from flipping through cheap dime store romance novels. But I still do not consider myself to be a “pro” by any stretch of the imagination!

However, I do have my standards when it comes to the style of my writing.

Even though I haven’t been writing erotica for very long, I’ve already created for myself a few basic rules that guide my writing. I earned my B.A. in journalism, so I’m already used to following a written style guide (I use the Associated Press, in case any of you were curious).

My primary story, “The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi,” deals with many things, but chief among them: sex. And, naturally, when you write about sex, inevitably things are going to get a little dirty.

But let’s face it; that’s why we read erotica in the first place, isn’t it?

But I don’t think of erotic fiction as being “porn.” Porn, more often than not, lacks any sort of art and only exists to titillate and excite. Erotic fiction exists to do those things but within the context of characters, plot and ideas. I don’t consider myself an accomplished erotic writer by any means but I would like to think I’m entertaining what few faithful readers I have.

(Thank you, by the way, to ALL of you who have read or stumbled upon my blog so far!)

I strive to write erotic fiction that still contains basic elements of storytelling even when dealing with sexually-charged subject matter. Just because a story deals with S-E-X doesn’t mean it has to be filthy. Filth is for children. Erotica is for adults.

That’s why there are certain words I will never use in my writing. I don’t want to sound like an elitist, but I have a distinct set of immature words that I don’t think belong in fiction intended for adults. These are words best reserved for the playground.

So, here’s a brief rundown of said words I will never use in my writing:

  1. Dick
  2. Cunt
  3. Pussy
  4. Cum
  5. Ass
  6. Cock

I don’t know about you, but these six words just seem a little too crass for me. Using the word “pussy” instead of “vagina” sounds too much like grade school kids talking about what they just overheard their older siblings talk about.

Additionally, “pussy” is often used as a derogatory term for someone who’s perceived as being weak or lacking self-respect. This sexist term doesn’t belong in my writing.

“Dick” also doesn’t sound right to me. I prefer the traditional term “penis.” Maybe it’s because “dick” is a derogatory term for someone who’s a jerk. This is another negative association I don’t want my readers to be subjected to when reading my stories.

“Cock” is another word I don’t like. Maybe because when I think of the word “cock,” I think about a rooster. “Cock” isn’t necessarily a crass word, but there are better alternatives out there.

The word “cunt” is so taboo that we often refer to it as the “c-word.” I don’t know much about the origin of this word, but it doesn’t seem necessary, especially when there’s that perfectly legitimate word, “vagina,” also available.

Is “vagina” such a taboo word that we’d rather use “pussy,” “cunt,” “snatch” and other euphemisms instead? Maybe a lot of writers don’t want to sound like they’re writing an anatomy textbook. I get that.

Two euphemisms I prefer to use are “manhood” when referring to a man’s genitalia and “womanhood” when referring to a woman’s genitalia. I find these terms more empowering and conducive to describing their God-given biology.

Of course, all rules are meant to be broken. There is one exception when I would (and eventually will) use these six words: in the context of dialogue. Dialogue between characters who would use these words is the only place where I’d be comfortably referring to a man’s semen as “cum.” What’s wrong with “semen?” Does it remind you of a group of sailors exploring the high seas?

So there you have it. I think language is important and what words you use can have a tremendous effect on your readers. Good erotica should stimulate the imaginations of your audience. Using middle school language like “pussy” while describing the act of cunnilingus might turn some people off.

Once again, I don’t claim to be a great erotic fiction writer. I’m just laying out my reasons for using medically-correct terms like “penis” and “vagina” when other writers would use “cock” and “cunt.”

If you want mature adults to read your writing, you should treat them like mature adults. There’s nothing wrong with reading smut, just as long as you have respect for the characters you create. Maybe it’s just me, but describing the act of lovemaking as “fucking her pussy so hard she cums like a bitch” doesn’t sound very dignified.

And if I do break these rules and use those six forbidden words outside of the context of dialogue, I give you full permission to punch me in the face the next time you see me on the streets.

Oh, wait. That would never happen. None of you know who I am!

Maybe this is why I prefer to remain anonymous…

The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom

A place to write all I need to write.

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