Tag: erotica

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Eleven – The Girl Next Door

I return home at 2:30 p.m. after getting off my shift and doing an arms work out. I didn’t see Monifa after I saw her deadlifting, so I’m assuming she finished her work out before I got done washing those God-forsaken towels.

The walk back to my apartment was hellish because to the rain. I didn’t bring a jacket because, judging from the conditions earlier this morning, I didn’t think I needed one. That’s a testament to how unpredictable the Seattle weather can be on any given day.

I live on the seventh floor of my apartment, so I have a pretty good view of the neighborhood. But today the view isn’t terribly spectacular.

As I exit the elevator and proceed toward my room, I notice the unit next to mine is being cleaned out by the building staff. I see Pablo, our resident maintenance man, repairing the drywall in unit #724 (I live in unit #725). He looks hard at work.

“Good day, Pablo. New tenant?”

“Yes, sir. She’s moving in today. But I didn’t know about this drywall problem until the boss told me about it an hour ago. This shit is going to take all day to fix.”

“That sucks,” I say to him, unlocking my door. “Who is it? A family? A couple? A loner like me?”

“It’s a girl. A black girl. Very cute. You’ll like her.”

A black girl? Who’s new? It can’t be…

“Did you catch her name?” I ask casually.

“Nope. But I don’t think she’s married. She’s only bringing her cat with her. Why? Are you looking for a girlfriend?”

I laugh. “No, no. Of course not. I just want to say hello to her whenever I run into her. It’s nice to know her name in advance. How cute is she?”

Pablo puts down his tools and looks at me straight.

“Very cute. So hot. She has a fine ass. Fine ass, my friend. I’d tap her in a heartbeat.” Pablo then starts to do an obscene dance that I’m guessing is intended to simulate sex.

“I’m sure you would. And your taste in women is very similar to mine. Maybe we could both tap her.” I’m not usually that crass, but sometimes I get a little overzealous after working out. All that panting, sweating and extra blood flow does something to my mind.

“Oh yeah, like takes turns, right?”

“Uh huh. We’ll see how that goes. Take care, Pablo.”

“Take care, hombre.”

Cutting our conversation short, I slam the door shut behind me forcefully, so to tell him I’m retreating into my own little world and I am no longer interested in talking about “tapping asses.” Gee, what if Monifa is the girl who’s moving in next to me? That would be epic.

Monifa is one hell of a gorgeous woman. She’s not nearly as buff as Cindi, but she has a whole plethora of redeeming qualities: She has a beautiful face (honestly, one of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen!), a curvy body, large breasts (I consider myself a “leg guy,” but her breasts are something special), gorgeous black skin, toned muscles, abdominal muscles that can hold their own against any female peer (like Cindi) and enough booty to last a lifetime.

I have no idea what “enough booty to last a lifetime” means exactly, but you get the picture. Her butt is FINE. And it definitely deserves all capital letters.

But enough of that. For all I know, some other woman could be moving in next to me. What interests me at the moment is lunch. If I recall correctly, I have leftover lasagna in the refrigerator as well as a half-eaten take-out box of chow mein from a Chinese restaurant across the street from Wellford Fitness Center. There’s a 20-something Chinese girl who works there who’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s also shorter than a midget (that’s an exaggeration, but I highly doubt she even cracks five feet tall).

Hm…I think I hear the lasagna calling my name.

“Ryan! Eat me! Eat me before I turn black and you have to throw me away!” the lasagna says to me. Believe it or not, there once was a time when I buried a container of clam chowder in the back of the refrigerator and forgot about it for nearly a year. When I discovered it, it became not green, but completely black.

And, it smelled like nobody’s business. Seriously, I wanted to puke after looking at it. Luckily, I did not. But I do not envy the garbage man who had to toss it in the back of his truck the next day. Ew.

Putting a slice of lasagna on a plate and placing it in the microwave, I set it for two minutes and wait. In the meantime, I reflect upon the beautiful specimen that is Monifa Okendu.

Wow. As if having Cindi in my life isn’t enough, I now have someone else I can fantasize about when I masturbate before going to bed. I consider women of all colors to be beautiful. Of course, ugly people (both men and women) exist across the entire ethnic spectrum, but I find a beautiful black woman to be especially pleasing to the eye. I have no idea why, I just do.

Maybe it’s because you very rarely see a black woman dating an Asian man. You see more of the other way around, but Asian guys tend to either stay with Asian women or venture out into the land of the paler skin ladies.

I wonder how many Asian guys have married a female bodybuilder. Who the hell knows?

Cindi is a Latina and she looks very exotic. Light brown skin and silky jet black hair (with streaks of gray sprinkled all around), Miss North makes for one hell of a woman. Even without all her gorgeous muscles, her 6’4” height is enough to make basketball coaches drool at the possibility of her playing center for their team.

Ding!

The lasagna is done. Finally!

After taking it out of the microwave and grabbing a fork, I plop down on my sofa and turn on the TV. Flipping through endless channels with nothing interesting going on, I decide on the safe choice of ESPN. Maybe I can catch highlights of all the action around the NFL yesterday.

The Seahawks lost. No surprises there. The Patriots wiped out the Bills. No surprise there. The Rams barely edged the Packers. That’s sort of surprising. I guess it’s true what they say about football: on any given Sunday, anybody can win.

Speaking of “winning,” who would have thought a month ago that I would be with a female bodybuilder like Cindi North? Who would have thought that I–”

Wait, am I still thinking about her? Holy shit. She can’t leave my mind. And let’s be serious for a moment: I’m not exactly “with” her in the traditional sense. We hooked up via Craigslist. In fact, we haven’t even officially “done it” yet. I just came on her face and she thanked me by giving me oral sex; which felt amazing, by the way!

Then she let me come on her abs. How hot is that? Yowzzzaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then I hear outside my door Pablo striking up a conversation with somebody. And from the sound of it, he’s talking with a woman! Holy smokes, it could be her!

I put my plate of lasagna on my computer desk and run to my front door. I close one eye and peek through the little hole in the middle of the door. I see Pablo holding a drill and an orange extension cord but the person he’s talking to is hidden from view. Dude, just move to the left a little! Or maybe the woman he’s chatting with should move within my line of sight.

I could make the excuse of checking my mail. I could do that. But the mail carrier comes at 4 p.m. every day. Checking my mail now would make no sense. Hm. I could always–”

Suddenly, Pablo enters back into the apartment, presumably to finish working. But where is the woman? I don’t see her! Maybe she went back into the apartment with him. Are they about to have sex?

Wait, that’s ridiculous! Pablo is there to repair the drywall, not to participate in a conjugal visit. Whoa, my mind can wander into some unusual places sometimes.

You know what? It’s stupid of me to just stand here and peek at her like a horny middle school boy peeping at girls during gym class. I’m a man! I can just walk into the hallway and say I heard people talking (which is true) and that I want to meet my new neighbor (which is also true) because I’m a friendly guy who wants to welcome everybody to the neighborhood (which is not even close to true. I hardly know any of my neighbors. We all sort of live in our own little worlds independent of each other).

I’ll do it. I’ll just open the door, poke my head in her apartment and say “hi.” What’s the harm in that? People do it all the time to meet their new neighbors. I should handle this like an adult.

I open the door and step outside. Closing the door behind me, I creep over to unit #724 and poke my curious head inside. I see Pablo diligently working, but nobody else. Was I imagining their whole conversation together? I probably was–”

“Oh, hi there!”

I turn around and see Her. The same woman I saw at work earlier today. Monifa Okendu. I take a look at her from head to toe. She’s dressed in gray sweat pants, a tight black shirt (that gratuitously shows off her large, beautiful breasts), a blue denim jacket and a bright orange scarf around her long neck. The last time I saw her she was dressed in a pink spandex bra and a pair of tight pink shorts that left very little to the imagination. I nearly fainted at the sight of her curvaceous, jaw-dropping figure.

And she still doesn’t look half bad.

“Hey! Monifa, right?”

“Yes. You remembered my name. Is your name Tim?”

“No, it’s Ryan.”

“Sorry. Excuse me. I’m new in town. I’m meeting a lot of people for the first time. Forgive me.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry. I completely understand. It’s difficult trying to remember everybody’s names. But now you definitely remember mine.”

“Do you live here?”

“Yes. I live in this unit right here. Are you just moving in?”

Pablo is still hard at work. I’m not sure if he knows we’re having a conversation right here in the hallway. Otherwise, I’d expect him to come on out and crack an inappropriate joke at our expense. He’s the kind of guy who would do that sort of thing.

“I am,” Monifa says, taking a quick peek into my unit. “I guess now we’re going to be next door neighbors. How exciting!”

Exciting? I was thinking the exact same thing. Dear lord, she has an incredibly BEAUTIFUL face! Yikes. It’s perfectly angular with sharp features that accentuate her flawless facial characteristics. If Cindi’s beauty is her strength, Monifa’s beauty is her…beauty. My God, what a beautiful woman!

“This is going to be very exciting. Is it just you moving in?” I hope I’m not being too forward by asking her this.

“Yes. Just me. Are you married?”

“No, not at the moment. Just me. Living the single life!” How lame is that response?

Monifa laughs. She has a strong, deep voice that gives her authority. I wonder if she ever uses it to her advantage…

“Well…” Monifa begins, “while he’s working on fixing my dry wall, I have no place to stay. Do you know of any good places to spend a few hours around here?”

Should I invite her into my room? Hell no! That’s being WAY too forward. I think I’ll recommend D’Angelo’s Café to her. It’s close, safe, serves good food and Sam shouldn’t be there. At least, for Monifa’s sake, I hope not.

“You can go across the street to D’Angelo’s Café. It’s a great local coffee shop that serves some very good pastries. You’re probably in the mood for something to eat, so you should get one of their grilled sandwiches. I haven’t tried a lot of them, but I’m sure they’re all delicious.”

“Thank you Ryan! I really appreciate the advice. I think I’ll do that. Want to join me?”

I almost fell down in disbelief. Monifa wants me to join her? Of course I will! It’s not every day a woman with superhuman beauty asks you to join her for coffee (I understand that Cindi also asked to meet me at a coffee shop, but that’s beside the point). I think I’ll take her up on this offer.

“Sure. Sounds great. Let’s go.”

“Great!” Monifa says. Her silky black skin almost makes her glow like an angel. I think she actually is an angel.

As we turn to leave, I lock my door and see Pablo out of the corner of my eye, deep inside Monifa’s apartment. He gives me a quick wink. I wink back. He gives me a wicked smile. I return the wicked smile.

We have an understanding.

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

Good God. Is it Monday already?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning to you, Ryan.”

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

“Hi Frances. How are the grandchildren?”

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

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

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

Frances doesn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, sir. Uh, excuse me?”

I immediately wake up from my mini-daydream.

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

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

Hot damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” she says.

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

“No. I just moved here yesterday morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean real athletes?”

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

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

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

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

Ugg!

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

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

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

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

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

I hope I’m not sounding too elitist.

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

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

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Nine – Job Offer

I wake up the next morning at 10:30 a.m. feeling like a million dollars. My morning erection greets me as I roll on my stomach.

“It’s 10:30? God, Cindi’s already been in the gym for an hour and a half already,” I say to myself.

Lord, that Cindi North. That Muscular Angel is sure something. I’ve never met anybody who even closely resembles Miss North. She’s big, tall, thick, strong as an Olympic weightlifter, funny, compassionate, unapologetically sexual and cute (not super cute, but she’s not bad to look at). Come to think of it, Cindi’s a very pretty woman. Her sharp nose, low cheekbones and masculine-looking eyes may not appear to be too attractive at first, but once I got to know her, she just…became more beautiful. Some women become more beautiful the longer you know them. Cindi is one of those types of women.

After spending a few more minutes fantasizing about Cindi and her incredible body, I hop out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and whatever shirt I can find that doesn’t smell too offensive. This dark red shirt seems sufficient.

*SNIFF*

Yeah, “sufficient” is the right word.

Every Sunday morning I go across the street to D’Angelo’s Café, a cute little neighborhood coffee and sandwich shop. The owner is the mother of one of my best friends from college. I’ve become a regular there and have since come to know all the other regulars. That’s one of the dangers of living within walking distance of a great java dispenser.

I walk outside and take a deep breath. The crisp autumn air smells great against a chilly sunny day. These are the type of fall days I like. I don’t particularly care for the rainy days that we often get here in Seattle. But I’m used to those by now.

As I walk across the street I see a pretty brunette girl jogging by me. She’s wearing a blue tank top and tight black spandex shorts. She’s cute, but she’s no Cindi North. Cindi would dominate that chick.

The moment I walk into D’Angelo’s Café I’m greeted by Sam, a regular patron who happens to be a former 1960s hippie. I’m convinced he’s still a stoner. That has to explain why he’s always eating the blueberry scones, which I don’t particularly like. Sam is an older guy who has long shaggy hair, a white goatee, tattoos all over the place and a wardrobe that looks like something out of the clearance sale at a thrift shop. “Tacky” is Sam’s modus operandi.

“Good morning, chum,” Sam says.

“It’s practically lunchtime, but good morning to you too.”

Sam is reading a Seattle Times and chewing on a day-old croissant. Sam is notorious for always purchasing half-off day-old goods instead of buying anything new. That’s his choice. There’s no law against buying the marked-down stuff.

I look around for Cathy (the owner) and see that she’s nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Cathy?”

Sam is the only other patron in the café at the moment. “I don’t know. She went into the back kitchen a few moments ago and hasn’t come out since.”

Oh great. Now I’m stuck having to talk to this guy. Sam is a nice man, but he can be a real work of art at times. This is the guy who will talk your ear off about whatever governmental conspiracy theory he’s into at the time. Yes, he’s one of those types. But strangely, I can’t quite pinpoint where his political views lie. He believes in conspiracies that draw unflattering conclusions about people on both the left and the right. Maybe even he doesn’t know what he believes.

“I’ll just wait here. She should be coming back soon.”

Sam takes this opportunity to strike.

“I hear you’re looking for another part-time job. Is this true?”

“Yes, sir, that is true. Why? Do you have a lead for me?”

He triumphantly leans back in his chair and flashes a broad, megawatt smile. I think Sam suspects I don’t think the world about him. He obviously has something juicy he wants to share with me and will milk it for all it’s worth.

“As a matter of fact, I do have something for you. Do you want to hear what it is?” he slyly asks. I’m convinced this is going to be something either illegal or related to an impending political and/or social revolution. Is he planning to topple the government and crown himself King of America?

“Sure, I do want to hear what it is. I’m always open to hearing what’s available out there. Tell me, please.”

I look over my shoulder to see if Cathy has returned yet. She has not. Dammit.

Sam slowly stands up like a creeper and grabs my left hand. He pulls me away from the counter and sits me down opposite of him at his table. He burps loudly.

“Pardon me.”

“No problem.” I’m trying not to barf.

“I have a friend who knows someone who can give you a job.”

“So, you’ve never met this person?”

“No, not directly. But I know of him, and that’s all that really matters at this point.”

This sounds suspicious, but what was I expecting? I should be polite and listen to what he has to say. I have no doubt I’ll end up saying “no” at the end. All I really want to do is get my cup of coffee and pastry and GTFO. Where the hell is Cathy?

“What sort of business does this person do?”

“He buys things and sells them back to people.”

“Okay. What sort of things?”

Sam snorts loudly and ogles a young lady walking by the café. She’s a tall blonde wearing long white pants and a dark blue blouse. She’s not the prettiest thing out there, but her long legs are really something to regard. As the girl passes Sam returns his attention to me.

“His name is Theo. A good buddy of mine used to work for him. He doesn’t anymore because he recently moved to Texas. But I’ve heard good things about him.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What sort of things does he sell?” Why was I getting impatient and demanding an answer from him? It’s not like I actually care.

“He sells, well, things that aren’t…uh, quite legal…um, to the rich and wealthy.” Sam’s selective revealing of information tells me what he knows is both very juicy and probably shouldn’t be discussed in a public setting. I guess discretion isn’t terribly important to him.

“Let me guess. He sells cocaine to rich Hollywood types.” It’s an honest guess.

“Not Hollywood types. Theo works and lives up here. He sells stuff like that to those rich Microsoft and Amazon types over on the east side.”

“He’s a dope dealer to the software and Internet moguls in Bellevue and Redmond. Beautiful. And why would you think I’d be interested in this sort of job?”

“It pays really well. And you don’t have to pay taxes, for obvious reasons.”

Sam leans back in his chair and takes a small bite out of his croissant. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cathy come out of the backroom. She looks embarrassed to have a customer present in her establishment and she wasn’t there to serve them immediately. She rushes to the counter and apologizes profusely.

“Ryan! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here. I was in the back room making soup, and I had no idea-”

“Don’t worry, Cathy. I was having a pleasant chat with Sam here.”

Cathy is a 50-something year old woman who might be the nicest person I’ve ever met. Cathy was married to her husband for 19 years before he came out of the closet as being gay. That was very surprising. But apparently she wasn’t totally shocked and took it all in stride. They had only one child (Stan, my buddy from college) and their sex life was essentially nonexistent. I know all this because she’s very open about her personal life (Stan is too embarrassed to tell me anything and I don’t blame him), almost to the point that I try to order my coffee and food as quickly as possible so I don’t have to listen to her go off on another one of her stories. Between Cathy and Sam, this can be quite a colorful little place. And I don’t mean color in terms of skin color, if you know what I mean.

“What would you like today?”

“I’ll have a 12 ounce nonfat latte and a strawberry muffin, please. That sounds like that would hit the spot.” Cathy’s strawberry muffins are almost orgasmic. Better than her blueberry scones, which are as dry as the Arizona desert.

“Alright. Are you doing okay there, Sam?”

“I couldn’t be better,” Sam says, still leaning back in his chair dangerously. I’m afraid he’ll fall over and break his neck. That would ruin everybody’s morning.

“Okay. Don’t fall down on me,” Cathy says, placing a newly baked, crisp muffin on a plate. My mouth waters as she hands it to me.

I sit down at a table next to Sam and instantly realize I should have asked for the muffin and the latte “to go,” but that would be weird considering I rarely ask for things to go. Besides, as much as I can’t stand Sam, I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings by running off on him in the middle of our conversation.

“So….are you in?” Sam says, leaning in close to me. I doubt Cathy will be able to hear, considering the sound of her steaming milk is about as quite as a hundred jackhammers working on a busy street all at once.

“I’ll consider it,” I tell him. I really won’t consider it, because committing illegal acts for a living does not sound like my cup of tea. Even though these clients are supposedly “high class,” that doesn’t make it any less illegal. I guess it would limit the chances of me being caught by the police.

“Good. A job offer this good doesn’t happen every day. If you really want to work for my buddy, you know where to find me every week,” he says. With that, Sam gets up, throws away his coffee cup and leaves the café. I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch him clumsily cross the street in the middle of a green light. I’m amazed he hasn’t been hit by a car yet.

By that time Cathy (who can make a great tasting latte faster than a speeding bullet) is done with my drink and places it on the front counter. I get up to retrieve it. I take a small sip and make a subtle sound of approval. Cathy, washing her hands, looks at me with a bright smile on her face.

“What did he want?”

I take another sip and savor the flavor. “Nothing, really. He wanted to offer me a job.”

“A job? What kind of job?”

“Oh, nothing serious. He has a friend who’s looking for some help with a few random things. I told him I’ll consider it, but I won’t really.”

“Good. Anything involving him will be nothing but trouble.”

I sit down and grab the newspaper Sam was previously reading. I take a small nibble at my delicious strawberry muffin and look up at Cathy.

“I agree.”

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

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

I sense a “but” somewhere.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s not talk about this.”

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

“Is it?”

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

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

“That Asian men have small penises?”

“Yes. That stereotype.”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

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

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

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

“Really? How so?”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. I try to be nice.”

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

“Someone else? Who else can you be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly?”

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

Silence.

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you close to marrying him?”

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

“But you had a child with him.”

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

I quickly change the subject.

“So…he was a good lover?”

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

“How big was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else is important?”

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

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

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

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

“I have nothing but respect for you.”

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

“Everyone deserves happiness.”

“Great. I want you to be happy too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She grins.

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

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

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

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

“Who’s your training partner?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have a good time?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what a night it was.

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

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

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

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

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Seven – Oral Fixation

“Orally? You mean…”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Cindi says with a wicked grin on her face. She extends her hand toward me and lightly strokes my cheek.

I grab her hips and feel my way up and down her beautiful, bulky body. Cindi escorts us to the bed and sits us down. I inch my way closer to her, with the hesitation of a naïve child approaching a wild animal. She then spreads her legs wide and reveals her enlarged, dark brown genitalia. Completely hairless. Her vaginal lips look hot, moist, inviting and sensitive to the touch. I’ve already talked about her massive clitoris that resembles a small penis. Her clitoris is standing at attention, ready to be pleased. Dear God! Can a woman’s labia really be that big?

“Shave much down there?” I shyly ask.

“No. Waxed. Every other week.”

“Uh huh,” I respond unintelligently.

I lick my lips in anticipation of giving a woman oral sex for the first time. Hell, I’m doing a lot of things for the first time tonight! I’ve never come on a woman’s face before…

“What are you waiting for? Please me,” she commands.

Knowing this is my cue to begin; I get down on my stomach and stick my face right into her sex. Up close and personal, she looks gorgeous down there. Absolutely gorgeous.

Time to go in for the kill, Ryan!

Slowly I wrap my lips around Cindi’s clitoris and tease the tip of it with my tongue. My mind still cannot comprehend the size of her clit. Her womanhood, without a doubt, resembles a tiny manhood. I wonder, have steroids have affected its sensitivity?

I hear her moan quietly in delight. I think that answers my question.

Not knowing what to do next, I improvise by sucking her clitoris like I’m sucking liquid out of a juice box. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue to lap her labia. It feels hard like a baseball glove. Cindi’s legs squirm, making me almost fall off the bed. Not wanting to deprive her from her ecstasy, my tongue explores the inside of her vagina. This is the first time I’ve ever been inside a woman!!!

Her vaginal juices taste bitter, but not in a bad way. I can’t describe to you what it tastes like. There are certain experiences in life that cannot be put into words. This is one of them.

“I like that,” Cindi dreamily tells me.

She likes it? How much does she like it? Enough for me to continue what I’m doing? I think I’ll stroke her labia a little longer.

My tongue covers her entire inner and outer labia like I’m eating an ice cream cone. So this is why they call it “eating out.” I’ve only seen this sort of thing done in porn. I hope all those hours watching free online porn have properly “trained” me for this moment.

Cindi’s legs aren’t squirming like they were. Maybe I should go back to her clitoris. I return to her massive clit by pressing against it with my entire tongue. A deep groan tears from her throat the moment this happens. I think this is a movement I should keep doing!

Her breathing increases in both volume and intensity as I continue to tease her clitoris with my mouth. Sucking, licking and pressing with my entire mouth, I can sense the tension building up inside of her. She struggles to control her body. Here I am, in total domination over this powerful female bodybuilder. She is weakened by my tongue.

I can get used to this!

I increase the pace of my licking as Cindi’s orgasm begins to build toward its inevitable peak. It’s going to be a powerful one, no doubt about it. Her moans grow louder as she reaches the point of no return.

“Ahhhhgggggg!!!!!!” she screams in delight.

Her climax is potent. I feel her vaginal walls contract powerfully. Cindi’s heavy breathing stops as she enjoys her orgasm. Finally, her contractions subside and she is left breathing deeply with contentment.

My lips wet from her juices, I lap them with my tired tongue and get on my knees to look at Cindi. Her eyes are closed, smiling with childish delight. She looks like she just won the lottery. I look down and see my penis is hard as a rock.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.

“Do it.”

Our lips join together as my manhood lies across her abdominal muscles. I swear I can actually feel her six-pack (or is it eight-pack?) against my penis.

We come apart and stare into each other’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Cindi sincerely says.

“You’re welcome,” I sincerely reply back.

Our eyes meet for what seems like an eternity. She may not be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but in this moment, she looks very pretty. Nobody might agree with me, but when she smiles, Cindi can be very pretty.

“I want to return the favor.”

“You mean, you want to…”

“Yes. To you. I masturbate a lot, but nothing beats the feel of a real person pleasuring you. I want to please you now.”

Cindi gets up and out of the bed. Her muscles appear more relaxed and less tense. She looks at the condom sitting on her dresser drawer. I know what she’s thinking.

“Should we use it?” she asks.

“Would it make you feel safer if we did?”

“Not necessarily. I trust you.”

Trust. That’s a dangerous thing to have for a stranger you just met.

“You trust me? Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome. I won’t use the condom. Not tonight. Maybe later when we make love for real.”

Cindi reaches over and picks me up like a mother holding her baby. I feel powerless in her strong arms. She kisses me and lays me down on the bed with my back resting comfortably against her pillows. Taking my former position, Cindi spreads my legs and stares down my erect penis. Will I last longer than I did last time? I sure hope so.

Gently, Cindi grabs the base of my penis and strokes up and down my shaft. Memories of what happened the last time she did this start to flood back.

“Let’s see how long you last this time,” she teases.

“You better get some Kleenex ready just in case.”

Cindi giggles at this remark.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be just fine, lover.”

And just like that, Cindi takes my entire manhood in her mouth and closes her lips around me. I start to squirm just like she did when I covered my mouth around her clit. What comes around goes around, as they say.

She experiments with a few tongue lashes against the head of my penis which cause me to groan in delight. Cindi is absolutely right. I’ve masturbated plenty of times in my life, but nothing beats the feeling of a real woman stimulating you.

As she continues to please my penis, I think at this moment I’ve officially lasted longer than I did before. Cindi’s mouth moves up and down my shaft in a slow, sensual manner. She is in no rush to bring me to climax. I am also in no rush to reach my climax.

I have no choice but to close my eyes and experience every sensual moment like it will be my last. The feel of her mouth covering my manhood is divine. All the insecurities I have about my penis size dissipate as her tongue sweeps across my manhood’s sensitive tip. Her gentle tickling of my scrotum with her fingers makes me to let out another loud moan.

With her free hand, Cindi brushes her other fingers across my lips. I take her middle finger inside my mouth and suck it with the same force she is sucking my manhood. The fact that my dainty Asian penis is being sucked by a powerful female bodybuilder is a realization that has not fully sunk in yet.

My orgasm builds and I sense my climax is not far off. Cindi must sense the same thing because she immediately stops sucking and kisses up my shaft from the bottom up. When she reaches the tip, she stops and looks at me.

“I want you to come on my stomach. Can you do that?”

“You want me to come on your abs?”

“Yes, my abs. Are you okay with that?”

The luxurious pleasure I was experiencing is causing me to barely comprehend what she’s saying. If she’s making a specific sexual request, I can’t say “no” to her.

“Sure. I’m okay with anything.”

“Good. You’re close to the end, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m very close.”

“You know what? I’m okay with you calling me ma’am. It’s kind of a turn-on.”

Before I can respond, Cindi grabs my shoulders and hauls my body upright to a kneeling position. Experiencing her brute strength is almost enough to make me come right then and there. She lies on her back and wraps her dominating legs around my waist.

“Oh, Cindi…” I wail to her.

Feeding off my desire and my pure lust for her, Cindi grips my penis and strokes it. I feel the anticipation of my climax building to a wild frenzy. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before in my life. The nerve endings in my manhood explode with every lingering stroke of her mighty hand.

I look down and see her impeccably chiseled eight-pack abs flexing in front of me. Every individual abdominal muscle on her tummy is bulging with eagerness of receiving my seed.

“Come for me, Ryan. Come for me!” Cindi yells passionately.

With one last hard stroke, I finally come and release several powerful squirts of my hot semen onto her eight-pack abs. Shivers roll down my spine as Cindi continues to grip my penis until every last drop spurts out. I look at her tummy and see every inch of her perfect abs is covered in my seed.

“Rub it in.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Rub it in!”

I reach down with both hands and massage my semen into her skin. It forms a hard and sticky shell over her statuesque abs. I fall onto my back the moment she releases my softened penis from her grip.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she says.

“I should be thanking you! That was amazing. It felt divine.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself. I think you released more this time around. You covered my entire abs. Good job, Ryan.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmur breathlessly.

Cindi gets up off the bed and goes for the bathroom to wash my semen off her body for the second time tonight. But this time it’s expected. As she wets a paper towel and washes her midsection, I look at my little penis and smile at it triumphantly.

“Looks like we redeemed ourselves, buddy,” I utter under my breath to my manhood.

“What was that, darling?” Cindi asks from the bathroom.

“Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

“I think I overheard what you said. Were you talking to your penis?”

Oh great. Caught! Well, I better fess up and admit to it.

“Yeah, I was talking to it. I was saying that I think we redeemed ourselves.”

“You did. You definitely lasted longer than the first time. And I’ll have to admit; usually I don’t like giving oral sex. But I had a lot of fun with you.”

“Really? What made it more fun with me?” I casually ask, still basking in the glow of the moment.

“Hm. I’d rather not say. You might not like it.”

“Go ahead. Tell me. You said you enjoyed giving me oral. I want to know why.”

Cindi exits the bathroom and walks straight to me. She sits down on the bed and lightly strokes my soft manhood.

“To be honest, usually I hate giving oral because it’s too much to put in my mouth. But with you…um, you…”

Oh shit. I think I know where she’s getting at!

“You mean, I’m small down there, so you were able to fit it all into your mouth,” I chime in.

There is a very long and awkward pause.

“Yes,” Cindi says.

Fuck.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Six – Premature Beginning

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

“Oh, wow, is that…”

Cindi’s face becomes blank.

“What? Is that what?”

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

“What is that? Is that a-”

“Penis?”

I nod my head awkwardly.

Cindi gives me a dirty look and bursts out laughing.

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

Her clitoris? Seriously? That’s her clitoris?

Holy smokes!!!

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

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

Whoa! She’s one well-endowed lady.

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

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

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

“In person, yes.”

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

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

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

“That’s nice,” I say to her.

“Shhhhhh,” she says back.

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

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

Uh oh.

Oh shit!

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

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

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

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

Then she burst into laughter.

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

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

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

Uh huh. I can see that. Clearly.

“That’s okay,” I mumble.

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

How fucking embarrassing is that???

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

“Twenty-three.”

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

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

“You don’t look amused.”

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

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

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

“You should…clean yourself up…yourself.”

“Good idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lover?”

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

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

Silence.

“Ryan, look at me.”

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

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

“What?”

“Please me…orally.”

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

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

Shit. I’m about to get my chance!

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

“How are you feeling?” Cindi asks.

“I’m feeling well. I’m, uh, excited.”

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

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

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

“After you.”

“Thank you.”

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

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

“This is my home. Do you like it?”

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

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

I laugh.

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

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

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

“Really? Why?”

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

I think about that for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, after we have our bit of fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. That is clear.”

Cindi smirks.

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

“Sorry, ma’am.”

She chuckles. “Smartass.”

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

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

“Agreed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why the hell are we talking about skydiving?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her face instantaneously expresses guilt.

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

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

Cindi’s expression softens.

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

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

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

“Would you like to see my bedroom?”

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

“I would love to, Cindi.”

“Good. Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

I abide.

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

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

“Did you bring a condom like I asked?”

That sudden question wakes me from my spell.

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

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

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

“Come here,” Cindi instructs me.

“Uh, okay,” I weakly respond.

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

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

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

“Your lips are sweet,” I say to her.

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

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

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

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

“Not as nice as yours,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to see more?”

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

“Good. Have a seat.”

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

“Watch and enjoy.”

I sure will.

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

Her abs. Oh my God. Her abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your body is beyond words.”

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

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

“Unhook my bra, darling.”

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles.

“Thank you, darling.”

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

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

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

She has a penis!

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Four – Meeting Cindi

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

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

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

Hell, she could be the serial killer.

Oh shit.

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Ryan,

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

            Kisses,

            Cindi.

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

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

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

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

“Welcome. What can I get you?”

“Hi. I’m meeting someone. Did you—”

“She’s in the back. Over there.”

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

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

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

I look around.

I see her.

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

Cindi North.

The Woman, the Myth, the Legend.

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

“Hello there. Ryan, I presume?”

“Yes. That’s me. Cindi, right?”

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

Besides the obvious?

“No thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

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

Oh. My. God.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

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

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

“Likewise.”

That’s the best I can do? Great.

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

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

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

“Did you find my place alright?”

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

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

“I’m very sure. I just want to talk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That woke me up from my mini-day dream.

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

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

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

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

I nod my head silently.

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

I nod my head silently again.

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

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm. Have you ever been married?”

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

“Are you looking to remarry?”

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

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

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

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

Holy shit! Four kids? She’s a MILF!!!

“Four kids? How old are they?”

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

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

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

“Do you plan on getting married?”

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

“Do you think that girl could be me?”

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

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

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

“That’s rather crass, but yes.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Are you a virgin?”

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

“I’m, uh, well, I…”

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

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

“Yes, I am.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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