fantasy – Page 6 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Educating Jonathan – Part Four

Classic muscle beauty: The incomparable Minna Pajulahti.

Jonathan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Mistress Nguvu decides to speak next.

“Did you hear me, Jonathan?”

He makes eye contact with her. Her stern look tells him she means business. Jonathan has no intention of getting on her bad side. God forbid that would ever happen.

“Yes, I heard you, Mistress. What kind of help do you need from me exactly?” If there was anything valuable Jonathan learned from that human sexuality class, it was that any dominatrix who is worth anything will always desire to be called “Mistress” whenever possible. Any breach of protocol grants one’s self the right to be punished. Jonathan does not want to be “punished” by this formidable woman.

“Good. Come closer. I want to show you something,” she says.

Like a faithful dog, Jonathan approaches the Mistress as instructed. He feels timid around her but wildly excited at the same time. Mistress Nguvu senses his meekness and relishes the sensual power she has over him. Despite her years and years of experience as a professional dominatrix, she still experiences that tingling exhilaration when a rookie “subordinate” subjects her with proper reverence when called upon to demonstrate it.

“Do you see my cock? Do you see how beautiful it is?” The Mistress strokes her gigantic black dildo up and down its enormous shaft. Jonathan feels a bit insecure, but instead chooses to ignore his emotions. Now is neither the time nor the place to relive his personal insecurities.

“Yes, I see your beautiful cock. It’s so big.”

“Yes it is. And I want to show Samantha here how big and beautiful it can be. Look inside the black bag and take out the bottle of oil,” the Mistress instructs.

Without hesitation, Jonathan goes to the bag and digs inside it. He finds a bottle of baby oil. Dr. Sammy is still on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Jonathan didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or be creeped out by her behavior. He hands the bottle to the Mistress and holds his breath.

Mistress Nguvu opens the bottle and pours a generous amount of oil onto the palm of her hand. Jonathan sees large calluses protruding across her hand and up her fingers. Decades of weightlifting will do that to your skin. It’s the body’s way of protecting itself from repeated abuse. He wonders if Samantha’s body will demonstrate a similar defense mechanism.

“You seem like an obedient boy, Jonathan. Will you obey my commands?”

Jonathan blinks. “Yes, Mistress. I will obey your every word.” He almost tips over. Thankfully, he retains his balance. The Mistress smears the oil all over the dildo, making sure all nine inches are dutifully covered. Samantha sits up and rubs her eyes. Liquid eyeliner streaks across her beautiful face. She’s stopped sobbing, but still has the sniffles. An ominous roar of thunder makes itself heard outside. All three of them stop what they’re doing and look out the window. Seconds later, a subtle streak of lightning follows, as if on cue. The Mistress rumbles in laughter and touches Jonathan on the shoulder. He shudders at the sensation of her warm fingers brushing against his cold skin.

“We are People of Color. We deserve to teach this worthless white cunt a lesson in humility, don’t you agree?” Jonathan nods in agreement. He doesn’t know if the Mistress sees this, but she proceeds as if she knew how he responded.

“Good. Now is the proper time for us to punish this little fucking white bitch in a way she deserves. Are you hard yet?” Mistress Nguvu reaches down and wraps her fingers around Jonathan’s limp penis. He gasps. Samantha’s eyes widen in anticipation. Her breathing stops. The Mistress lightly jerks Jonathan’s manhood and feels it fill her palm. She smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Good boy, good boy Jonathan. Good boy.”

Rene Campbell showing off her hard work.

Samantha rubs her reddened torso to ease the pain. The worst has already passed, but a faint hint of ache still lingers. She licks her lips.

“Now, go over to her and put your Asian penis inside her mouth. She knows what to do from there,” the Mistress instructs, playfully pushing Jonathan toward the professor. He obliges without protest.

“Don’t you, little white bitch?”

The gorgeous professor bobs her head up and down. Dr. Sammy positions herself on all fours and sticks her bottom out in front of Mistress Nguvu. Jonathan sits down on the edge of the bed and sighs. Samantha obediently crawls toward him. She looks at him and communicates the message “trust me” with her eyes. For whatever reason, Jonathan feels secure by this silent demonstration of consensual verification.

Mistress Nguvu walks over to Samantha and sticks a single finger inside her anus. She struggles to stifle a moan. A second finger enters her shortly after. Jonathan’s erect penis sways back and forth again. The professor extends her tongue outward and licks his sensitive tip. He lets out a deep groan and closes his eyes. The Mistress inserts a third finger and then a fourth. As Jonathan’s entire manhood is engulfed by Dr. Sammy’s mouth, Nguvu’s entire fist finds itself inside her anus. Finally ready to take in the ultimate prize, the strong black woman removes her fist and substitutes it with her oiled up nine inch long strap-on dildo. Inserting it with deliberate intent, she wants to assert her dominance without giving her worthless bitch any unnecessary unpleasantness.

“You know what to do next, slut. Suck on his small Asian cock while I ride you with my large black dick!”

Caught off guard by the Mistress’s description of his manhood being a “small Asian cock,” Jonathan almost makes a sound of protest just as Dr. Sammy submissively starts to perform fellatio on him. At the same time, Mistress Nguvu grips Samantha’s hips and strokes her dildo in and out of her tight anal cavity. The pleasure he derives from the oral sex distracts him from thinking about how the hell a nine inch long dildo can possibly fit inside someone’s anus. The young Asian graduate student decides to ponder such matters at a later time.

“Oh yeah, suck on it. Suck on it real good as I shove my big black cock inside your ass. Take it, you fucking piece of shit.” Still uncomfortable with hearing such foul language, Jonathan closes his eyes again and looks upward toward the Heavens. He feels himself close to climax. Samantha nearly chokes as she once again fights away tears. She’s feeling a tremendous amount of pain from the dildo intruding her tight anus, but she accepts it as a suitable punishment for the generations of systemic racism her people have lashed out against Mistress Nguvu’s and Jonathan’s people.

“When you’re about to come, tell us so this dirty little white slut knows when to stop,” the Mistress instructs to Jonathan. Samantha refuses to relinquish the pace at which she sucks his penis. He tries to concentrate but cannot. His vision blurs. Waves of pleasure roll through his body. He knows he’s close. The Mistress also refuses to surrender her torrid in-and-out thrusting of Dr. Sammy’s abused cavity.

Finally, he senses the end is near. He decides to acknowledge this fact.

“I’m about to come!”

Mistress Nguvu intensifies her thrusts. She slaps Samantha on the back to instruct her to cease the fellatio. She removes Jonathan’s penis from her mouth and waits.

The wait doesn’t last long.

Jonathan groans as he spurts his semen all over Samantha’s beautiful face. The waves of his ejaculation seem to go on forever. Eventually, they stop and he collapses backward onto the bed. Mistress Nguvu pulls out of Samantha’s bottom and peers into her face. It is completely covered in warm white liquid. She laughs, the sound of her husky voice reverberating throughout the whole room.

“That’s a good girl. Yes, a very good girl indeed.” Nguvu strokes Dr. Sammy’s hair like an owner would pet a cat. Jonathan swears Samantha starts to purr like a satisfied feline. All he knows is that he is the truly satisfied one!

A long silence follows. No one knows for sure for how long, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. At last, Samantha stands up and goes to the bathroom. She closes the door behind her. The sound of running water follows. Mistress Nguvu, who has now fallen out of “character,” removes the strap-on dildo from her waist and cleans it with a disinfectant wipe. She takes another wipe from her pack and offers it to Jonathan.

“Would you like this? To clean up after yourself?”

Jonathan nods his head and takes the wipe from the Mistress. He cleans his penis and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. He really needs to pee, but must wait patiently until Samantha returns from the bathroom. Nguvu places the dildo back inside the bag. An awkward moment takes place between Jonathan and the Mistress as they look at each other but have nothing constructive or practical to say. Finally, Jonathan cordially breaks the silence.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jonathan, but you already know that.” He extends his hand toward Nguvu. She follows suit and shakes his hand. Her tight grip takes Jonathan by surprise. Could she break every bone in his body if she wanted to? Jonathan has no doubts she could if she were so inclined to demonstrate her incredible strength. He hopes he never gets on her “bad” side. The consequences would be disastrous.

“Charmed. I was a bit surprised Sammy wanted to start things off without proper introductions, but she was ‘in the moment’ and couldn’t be bothered with basic pleasantries,” Mistress Nguvu observes. “I don’t blame her one bit. She’s a passionate one, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan smirks. “Yes, she is. Have you ever read any of her writings? She speaks from the heart. There’s a lot to admire about that.” He realizes he’s still stark naked, but for whatever inexplicable reason he chooses not to clothe himself yet.

“You’re right about that. I adore her. She provides a level of insight that not too many people can match. She’s truly a one-of-a-kind.”

A moment later, Samantha comes out of the bathroom in a much more upbeat mood. She’s put on a bathrobe (a comfortable dark purple fleece robe Jonathan’s grandmother gave him for Christmas a few years ago) and appears to be “out of character” as well. She and Nguvu hug. Then they share a brief kiss. It is at this moment that Jonathan becomes more self-conscious about his nudity and contemplates putting on something to make things less strange.

“Go ahead and put something on, sweetie,” Samantha suggests, as if she could read minds.

Taking her advice, Jonathan puts on a pair of underwear, gym shorts and an old t-shirt. Mistress Nguvu takes out a bottle of water from her coat and drinks from it. Samantha stands behind her and sensually rubs her broad shoulders. Now that the fog of war has cleared, Jonathan takes a long look at the Mistress and marvels at her impressive muscular physique. He’s seen guys with big muscles, but never a woman with so much from head to toe. Jonathan’s never been into “muscle chicks,” but Nguvu is forcing him to reconsider his position.

“You have a nice apartment, Jonathan,” the Mistress says. Jonathan abruptly breaks out of his spell.

“Thank you. I’ve been here for about a year and a half. The rent isn’t too shabby. I like it a lot.”

“It sure beats my crummy little house down in Puyallup. I should consider moving to the big city. I think I’d like it once I get used to it.” Dr. Sammy leans over and kisses Nguvu’s bulging right bicep. In response, the Mistress flexes her arm to accentuate her bicep peak. A tight bundle of muscle emerges from the top of her swollen arm. Dr. Sammy gasps.

“You would sure get a lot more customers if you moved up here, Mistress. You should really consider it.” Mistress Nguvu turns around and wraps her strong arms around the professor. She playfully lifts her up and drops her to her feet. Dr. Sammy audibly moans, as if responding erotically to the Mistress’s impressive display of brute strength. Jonathan chuckles and turns on all the lights in the room so that he could get a complete glimpse of his guests. Spent, Dr. Sammy sits down on a nearby sofa.

“You look so cute together,” Jonathan observes. “Tell me, Mistress. You have got to be a professional bodybuilder, right? I mean, there aren’t too many women in this world who look like you.”

The Mistress takes a step toward him, which sends a jolt of nervous energy through his body. He knows she means no harm, but he cannot help but react this way to her imposing physical presence.

“I used to compete professionally, yes. But not anymore. I stopped competing about five years ago. But in my heyday, I was one of the world’s premiere female bodybuilders. I still lift, obviously!” Nguvu shows off a series of bodybuilder poses, much to the delight of her audience. Dr. Sammy cheers and applauds for her while Jonathan could do nothing but stand there and stare at her. Totally mesmerized by Nguvu’s impeccable combination of size, strength, grace, beauty and femininity, he can say for certain that he’s never met (or seen, for that matter) a woman like her before. He doubts he’ll ever meet a woman like her again in his life. He’s definitely positive about that.

Before the Mistress could finish all her poses, a sudden knock at the door surprises everyone. Dr. Sammy jumps up to her feet. Nguvu turns her head toward the door. Jonathan looks at a clock on the wall and sees the current time is 2:36 a.m. Who could that possibly be? Nobody would ever have any reason to knock on his door at this hour! They weren’t being too loud. These walls are faultlessly soundproof. Jonathan walks toward the door and peers through the small peep hole.

“Who is it?” Dr. Sammy inquires.

“Let me check,” Jonathan says.

The hallway of his apartment building is usually well-lit no matter time of the day it is. The 17^th floor has only four tenants, as most of the residents live on floors one through twelve. However, Jonathan struggles to see who it is that’s waiting on the other side. He thinks there are two or three people, but he could be wrong. Fearing nothing, Jonathan cracks open the door.

“Hello? Who is it? Are we being too loud?”

The person standing directly in front of the door kicks it open violently. Jonathan stumbles backward and falls to the floor. Dr. Sammy screams. Nguvu is frozen with terror. Four men dressed in black storm into the apartment unit and draw guns with silencers directly at all three of them. The fourth man calmly closes the door and points his gun at Jonathan’s head.

“Stand up. Slowly. Don’t try anything stupid,” he commands.

Jonathan does as he’s told. The other three men surround Mistress Nguvu and Samantha, who have huddled together in the southeast corner of the room. All four men are wearing clown masks, black trench coats, camouflage pants, military boots and bullet-proof vests. The fourth man, who is significantly shorter than his henchmen, points his gun in the direction of Nguvu and Dr. Sammy. Jonathan takes that as a hint to move toward them. He shuffles his feet to where they’re quivering and positions his body in front of the women.

“Alright, let’s make this simple. Don’t try anything stupid, any of you. First of all, are you Dr. Samantha Prescott?” Everyone looks at her. Dr. Sammy nods her head. “Good. Now, listen to me very carefully. We’re all going to go downstairs to the parking garage. I don’t know who the fuck you two are, but because you’re here with her, we’re taking you all hostage.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mistress Nguvu asks. Jonathan senses a level of fear in her voice that he never knew was possible for a strong woman of her stature. Muscles or not, a man with a gun changes the equation really quick.

“That’s none of your fucking business, bitch. What’s going on here, some kind of fetish party?” The man looks around at the dildo, whip, oil and the Mistress’s outfit. “No matter. Kinky bastards. Here, put these on.”

The man motions to one of his colleagues. One of the men takes out three identical clown masks from his coat and hands them to his hostages.

“Do it. Put them on. Now!”

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu reluctantly put on the clown masks. Two of the men walk toward the front door.

“Good. Don’t say a word. If any of you scream, attempt to run away, or pull off any other stupid shit, we’ll put a bullet inside every single one of you. Don’t test us. Got it?”

The three hostages nod their heads to acknowledge their understanding of his orders.

“Fantastic. Fucking fantastic. Alright, let’s head out. Not a single word will be spoken by any of you, understand? If anyone asks who we are or where we’re going, I’m the only one who will speak. Got it?”

Once again, the three hostages nod their heads.

“Great. Let’s head out.” With that, the seven of them walk out toward the elevator. Not a single soul is in the hallway. Jonathan isn’t very religious, but right now he is praying to every deity known to the Universe. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t know who these men are or what they plan to do with them. He just wants this whole ordeal to come to an end.

They get into an elevator. Forty-five seconds go by, which seem like an eternity. The elevator doors open and the seven clown mask-donning figures walk toward a dark red SUV.

“Get in,” a voice commands.

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu, still wearing the clown masks, sit in the back of the SUV. Two of the men sit in front while the other two men get into a separate car. One of the men collects the clown masks and gives them black cloth to put over their heads instead. The three hostages put them on. The cloth completely blinds them. They cannot see a thing.

Satisfied with their hostages’ blindness, the driver turns on the ignition, puts the SUV in reverse, exits the parking garage and within minutes they’re travelling on the open road toward an uncertain fate.

Denise Masino Might Be the Greatest Female Bodybuilder of All Time (NSFW)

A woman of Denise Masino’s caliber deserves a tribute blog post, wouldn’t you agree?

It’s not too often that I’ll make firm declarative statements on this blog, but here’s one for the record:

Denise Masino might be the greatest female bodybuilder of all time.

Uh, what? Really? Out of all the thousands of women in this world who’ve pursued the sport of bodybuilding at some point in their lives, is Denise Masino really the GOAT (Greatest of All Time)? Surely there must be someone else, like Iris Kyle or Cory Everson, who should really take this prize. What on earth are you thinking, Ryan?

Well, hear me out on this. My opinion here is based less on competitive merits and more on entrepreneurial success. So maybe the “Greatest Female Bodybuilder of All Time” is a bit inaccurate. Perhaps “Greatest Female Bodybuilding Businesswoman of All Time” is closer to the truth.

First, some background information on Ms. Masino.

Denise Masino was born Denise Sanchez on May 1, 1968 in Brooklyn, New York. Her parents are from Puerto Rican descent. A diminutive 5’2”, Denise was married to Robert Masino for 14 years before her current marriage to Gregg R. Simpson, a filmmaker. She credits her parents for instilling in her a hard work ethic and belief in her ability to carve her own pathway to success. Clearly, her parents taught their daughter well.

Her competitive history is respectable but not overly impressive. She won her first contest in 1994 by being the first overall winner at the 94’ NPC Florida Championships. Between the mid-1990s to 2007, Denise placed consistently in the top 10 in competitions such as the NPC Nationals, Jan Tana Classic, Ms. International and the most prestigious of them all, the Ms. Olympia. Her best placement at the Olympia was 2^nd in 2004 in the lightweight category.

Nevertheless, Denise has made her mark on the world of female bodybuilding by being a shrewd businesswoman. She has many assets and isn’t afraid to show every single one of them off. Denise has graced such publications as Muscle & Fitness, Flex Magazine, Muscular Development, Muscle Mag, Women’s Physique World, Playboy Europe and others. She’s also appeared in a few independent films and has made a handful of television appearances. She remains on good terms with her ex-husband Robert and frequently collaborates with him on projects. Denise currently lives in Fort Myers, Florida but regularly visits Los Angeles for business purposes.

Alright, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into why I believe Denise deserves such high praise.

In a previous blog article, I listed my top 10 favorite female bodybuilders and foolishly ranked Denise at #4. Big mistake! She should be my #1 favorite, which is where she stands as of right now. No disrespect to anyone else, but Denise is clearly a head above the rest. I hope I don’t offend any of my faithful readers who are actual FBBs themselves! I love you all dearly, too!

However, Denise has an incredible arsenal of talents and assets that are unmatched compared to her competition. She has an almost flawless combination of natural beauty, muscularity, intelligence, business savvy and personality that makes her a winner in all categories. She’s a gorgeous muscle woman who’s unquestionably feminine and celebrates her femininity. She’s highly intelligent but doesn’t condescend down to anyone. She’s sexy but playful at the same time. She’s not afraid to become erotic for the camera but never resorts to crudity or crass behavior. She’s also not afraid to showcase her most unforgettable physical asset (we’ll get into this later) and does so with class, dignity and pride. She reveals a lot about herself but keeps just enough under wraps so that we keep begging her for more. I could be wrong about some of this, but I should never let facts get in the way of a good argument!

Denise showing off her most talked about asset.

Luckily for us, Denise is quite active in the adult film industry. Though not a “star” in the traditional sense, for anyone who loves female muscle, she’s a superstar. But it’s not just her large volume of erotic videos that endear her to us; it’s her personality that makes her so irresistible.

I get the feeling Denise is the one who crafts her own image. She obviously has a team of marketing professionals (web designer, videographer, photographer, copywriter, etc.) who work closely with her to build her brand, but without Denise’s own shrewdness, none of that would make a difference. Denise knows what people want and is not afraid to deliver with a bang. She’s also smart enough to deny her fans just enough so that they remain hopelessly intrigued with her forever. These are rare talents.

Denise’s brand is simple yet brilliant. She’s a beautiful, strong woman who loves sex, embraces her sexuality, loves to have fun in her life and isn’t afraid to be herself…all while maintaining an approachable, friendly persona. Denise Masino isn’t intimidating. She isn’t scary. She isn’t a powerful female muscle Goddess who will dominate you or humiliate you. She’s essentially that cool lady at the bar who will shoot pool with the guys and can probably bench press more than all of them. Her sexiness doesn’t feel forced. Her personality doesn’t appear to be manufactured. It’s all real. It’s genuine. You can trust Denise to be just Denise.

In reality, every media star has to craft a somewhat fake persona to a certain degree. We all know our favorite Hollywood movie stars aren’t necessarily in reality how they act on the red carpet or while sitting next to Jimmy Fallon’s desk. Hollywood can be very fake. We all know this. So to a degree, how Denise comes across in interviews and in her videos may or may not be how she is in real life. But I’d wager that’s pretty darn close to being the real Denise Masino.

Her personality is what really stands out. I genuinely would want to sit down with her and chat with her over a few beers. She could be wearing sweat pants, a fuzzy parka and no make-up and I’d still want to hang out with her. She’s an undeniably beautiful woman, but she also appears to be sweet, genuine and has a lot to say about certain things.

Outside of who Denise is as a person, everyone who knows about her will remember her for one particularly striking physical asset:

Her enormous clitoris.

And, to an extent, her meaty labia.

Yes, it’s unusual for anyone to hone in on someone’s genitalia like that (or is it?), but her large feminine endowment is without a doubt her most memorable physical trait. But it’s not this endowment that unto itself adds to her legend (although it most certainly takes on a life of its own), it’s how open she is to showing it off. I’ve written before why men – and women – are fascinated with a female bodybuilder’s genitalia, so there’s no need to get too detailed into this. However, it is crucial to understand that what lies between her legs is one of the most enticing and sexually titillating features I’ve ever seen on any human being, male or female.

I would argue that Angela Salvagno also possesses between her legs beautiful feminine flesh that matches Ms. Masino’s, but that’s not entirely the point here. Denise does an expert job at exploiting her best physical attribute for the camera in a way that challenges us to look away. We cannot look away. Whether we’re disgusted by her clitoris or we’re uncontrollably aroused by it, either way once we’ve seen what she has, there’s no turning back. She has us in the palm of her hand and we’re powerless to resist.

I can’t even.

Let’s be very clear here. Many female bodybuilders possess enlarged clits. They are not penises. Not by a long shot. A feminine endowment is in no way comparable (though biologically symmetrical) to a male endowment. Female bodybuilders are women – period, end of story. There’s no debating this. But we’re especially intrigued by FBBs because their physical strength and atypical anatomical features come just close enough to traversing into the territory of masculinity…but remain clearly set in the realm of femininity.

When Denise masturbates for the camera, we watch her not as a woman masturbating like a woman, but rather as a woman masturbating like a man. She “jerks off” her clit very much like how guys jerk off their penises. When she climaxes, we half-way expect her to ejaculate semen like the rest of us. She doesn’t of course, but the thought is still in the back of our minds. In this respect, Denise almost seems like “one of the guys” while still unambiguously remaining a woman. When Denise experiments with a clit pump, her sensitive nub of flesh nearly grows to the size of a small penis, which further titillates our imagination. We know she doesn’t have a penis, but it looks so much like one that we seem to (at least momentarily) identify with her.

Perhaps that’s it. Maybe thanks to our society’s increasing sexual multilateralism, the stark differences between “men” and “women” are starting to crumble. It isn’t enough for “men to be men” and “women to be women.” We sort of like it when a woman temporarily takes on masculine characteristics while staying true to her established feminine identity. Not only does she sort of “become one of us,” we can still find her sexually attractive as a woman at the same time.

In our modern age of social media, media saturation, sexual pluralism and postmodern sexual mores, it’s not enough to just look at photos of a beautiful woman or watch her engage in sexual activities for the camera. We also want to know who she is as a person. If she seems like a “pretty cool chick,” we feel more at ease in watching her do her thing. Perhaps this is a victory of sorts for 20^th century Feminism. We don’t see women as being mere sexual objects. We see them as peers who can also carry immense sexual appeal. I don’t know if that counts as a “victory” per se, so I’ll leave that conclusion up to you.

I have one final observation to point out. Pay attention to what kinds of videos and photos Denise participates in. She’s either by herself (going solo) or in the company of other women. She’s never, to my knowledge, done any videos or photoshoots with other men. Perhaps content like that exists somewhere, but I’ve yet to locate it. If it does, feel free to send it to me! I will, ahem, gladly study it for academic enlightenment.

Looking like one sexy college co-ed.

So she’s seen either performing solo or engaging in sex with other women. She masturbates, poses for the camera, uses a clit pump, has cunnilingus performed on her by another FBB, allows an FBB to penetrate her with a dildo or strap-on, penetrates herself with a dildo, and engages in other activities that don’t involve a man. I’m guessing she chooses to do this because she’s married and doesn’t want to put her husband in an awkward situation, so I get that completely. But this also works to her advantage whether she intends it to or not.

It allows guys like me to fantasize. I know she’s married. I know I have a snowball’s chance in Hades to ever have sex with her. However, I can watch her have sex with other women and not feel jealous. I can watch dildos penetrate her but not feel slighted or excluded in any way. But I’ve never seen an actual man’s penis penetrate her. I know she probably gets plenty of sex in her everyday life, but that makes not a lick of difference. In my own personal fantasy world, I can continue to imagine what it would be like for me and Denise to enjoy a romantic evening consisting of a candle-lit dinner, an expensive bottle of wine, a glowing fireplace, and a long warm evening of lovemaking.

Obviously I’ll never be able to experience that with her. But that’s the beauty of fantasy. It’s your own reality, independent from actual reality. And her choice to never do any scenes or photos with other men makes it easier for me to have these fantasies. My fantasies aren’t “spoiled” by images of real guys having sex with her. There’s no “other man” for me to compete with. Yes, I know she’s married. And I’m sure Denise and her husband have an active sex life that rivals that of the characters in a romance novel. But that’s not important. In my own mind, that “only man” could be me. Heck, in my dreams, it is me.

Denise being Denise. What I’d give to be her left hand at this moment in time.

So that’s it. That’s why Denise Masino might be the “Greatest Female Bodybuilding Businesswoman of All Time.” She understands branding better than few others in the industry. Denise knows what makes her marketable and isn’t afraid to use it to her advantage. More power to her. She’s stunningly beautiful yet approachable. She’s sweet yet possesses a kinkier side. She’s a strong independent woman, but she appeals to men of all types. She’s the type of woman you want to be your friend and your girlfriend at the same time. She has physical assets that she isn’t shy about showing off. She’s proud of what makes her unique. There’s a lot to be said about confidence. Confidence is sexy, no doubt about it. She allows us to indulge in our fantasies while smartly not going too far and mistakenly ruining the fantasy. She is who she is and is damn proud of it.

This is a difficult balance. Only a shrewd businesswoman can maintain this persona year after year with impeccable precision. That’s Denise for you. I get the feeling she doesn’t struggle to build her brand. She does it seamlessly. It’s second nature to her. It’s tough being a self-made entrepreneur in today’s stagnant globalized economy when you work in an industry that’s shunning women more and more. But if there’s anybody who can do it successfully and with grace, it’s her.

Muscle Goddess on the Beach

All I need is a warm beach, a cold drink and a beautiful female bodybuilder by my side. Is that too much to ask for?

The crashing of waves against the white sandy beach echoes along the secluded picturesque shore. Moonlight floods from every direction, illuminating the night sky. The gentle breeze barely resonate a sound, but imposes itself just enough to encourage the tall palm trees to sway back and forth.

Walking hand-in-hand next to the foamy green water with her, I still cannot believe how lucky I am at this moment in time. Kristina is her name. A competitive female bodybuilder, entrepreneur and rising star on the world stage, it makes absolutely no sense why she would choose to be with me. She could be with any man in the world. So why me?

Why not someone else – someone more handsome, rich and influential?

“Look, darling! I think I just saw a dolphin over there!” Kristina points out to sea, insisting she saw a majestic cetacean mammal gliding across the frothy waters. I do believe I saw out of the corner of my eye a black figure dancing across the tide, but my focus and attention is elsewhere. All I want to do is to look at her.

Standing at an imposing 6’ 4”, Kristina is all muscle, completely ripped from head to toe. Nearing her 50^th birthday, it also seems rather odd for a woman of her age to be holding hands with a young man who hasn’t hit 25 just yet. But here we are, drinking in the midnight air on the shores of paradise like two old lovers.

Her grip on my hand becomes tighter as we see two more dolphins leap high into the air and splash into the water. Poetry in motion. I caress her large bicep, feeling the long purple vein protruding down the middle of it. She may be more than twice my age, but she is without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. We met just a few days ago. She just completed a competition and needed a well-deserved vacation. I happen to live here in this beach city, so I am accustomed to being surrounded by tourists.

But not tourists like Kristina. She’s a one-of-a-kind.

“I don’t want this night to end, my love,” I impulsively whisper into her ear. Wait, what? Did I just call her “my love?” How could I be so foolish? How can I possibly call a woman I hardly know “my love” when she could very well be married and have kids who are my age? What am I doing assuming that…

“Nor do I, my love,” she whispers back.

Well. That settles matters!

We continue walking for several minutes in complete silence. Her grip never loosens. We eventually reach a more secluded part of the beach, away from drunk partiers, debris, empty beer bottles and all signs of humanity. The bright moon blankets the entire beach with its intrusive glow. I love the feeling of the cool sand tickling my toes. However, I love being with Kristina even more. We look like an odd pair. Her tall stature and jaw-dropping muscular body is certainly an unusual sight compared to my smaller frame and shorter height. But I don’t mind one bit. She’s a heavenly Goddess and I am infinitely lucky to be with her right now.

I really want to caress the bicep of Beata Antoninas.

Kristina turns to face me. She leans over and kisses me. Her hot lips steal my breath. Her musky scent is like sweet perfume. Her gorgeous face, while touched with the inevitable lines and wrinkles of age, can still make your heart stop when you gaze upon it. Just looking at her navy blue eyes is enough to erupt a giddy energy within me.

“We’re all alone,” she observes.

“Yes, we are. What shall we do with the rest of our evening?” We snuggle close. The cool midnight breeze is a welcomed change from the hot and humid 90 degree heat endured by all of us earlier in the day. I will accept these conditions every single time.

“As you said before, you don’t want this evening to end, am I right?”

“Right.”

“Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, lover boy.” With that, Kristina pulls me in close and kisses me again. She boldly unzips my pants and pulls down my underwear. I gasp so hard while kissing her it nearly causes me to choke. But I do nothing to stop her. She fondles my penis, encouraging it to swell in her hands. When our lips come apart, I reach behind her and unhook the back of her dress. My arms barely reach around her thick torso. Never in my life did I ever expect I’d be with such a strong beautiful woman as Kristina. But here I am, living out a fantasy most men could only dream about.

“My pleasure, Kristina,” I whisper in her ear. Taking my time, I patiently push her yellow sundress lower and lower, struggling to unravel the tight fabric from her large, bulky body. How she is able to put on any article of clothing without it ripping to shreds is a mystery to me!

Finally, the dress pools around her ankles. She kicks it away from her feet and lets it lie in the smooth sand. We finish denuding each other, completely careless about the fact that at any moment we could be spotted by a passerby. If we get caught in the act, so be it. Let them watch. We don’t care.

Stark naked, Kristina backs away and shows off a series of award-winning bodybuilding poses. Watching her immaculate body at work is enough to make me forget to breathe.

“God, you look incredible,” I say, in almost a trance-like state. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

I look down at my own naked body and feel self-conscious. Does she really think I look good? I’m sure she’s accustomed to seeing guys who look way better than me. How do I compare? Is she just being nice to me, or is she genuinely telling me the truth? How can I know either way? What should–

Before I could finish my ramblings thoughts, Kristina tackles me and knocks me to the ground. She kisses me and playfully bites my upper lip. I press my tongue against hers and we taste each other’s saliva. It may not sound too romantic, but up to now this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Her sizzling breathe delightfully burns the inside of my mouth.

May I please cuddle up with Deidre Pagnanelli?

Wasting no time at all, Kristina spreads her legs wide across the ground, burying her toes in the sand. She pinches the base of my penis and positions it in front of her moist entryway. I take in a deep breath. She lets out a moan as she rubs my hard shaft against her engorged clitoris. She refuses to wait any further and lowers herself onto my manhood. We both let out audible groans as we intimately join together. Kristina experiments with a few up and down thrusts as I grab her breasts and pinch her erect nipples.

Bodybuilding may have made her breasts small and flat, but I still treat them as if they were the most beautiful pair in the world. Her nipples, sticking out a full inch, are dark pink and clearly sensitive to the touch – judging from her sudden twitch when I take one of them into my mouth. Kristina powerfully thrusts down hard on my penis, sending jolts of pleasure throughout my whole body. Her enormous frame engulfs my entire being. Covered from head to toe with her hard feminine flesh, I am trapped underneath her…though I have no reasons to complain about this.

As a reckless wave of seawater splashes across a nearby protruding rocky cliff, a warm current of air sweeps across our bodies. Goosebumps form across Kristina’s broad back. I desperately want to feel every single one of them. I want to brush my fingers up and down every mound of muscle on her back, experiencing the fruits of all her pull-ups, deadlifts and bent over barbell rows. Thankfully, I have this moment and many more moments afterward to appreciate her hard work.

“I want you to come inside me, baby,” Kristina pleads with me.

“I’m almost there, gorgeous lady,” I reply. Our lips meet. She bites down on my lower lip. I extend my tongue into her mouth and explore. She meets my tongue with hers. The tension builds to a fever level. We are both close to climax but want to delay it as long as possible. Kristina pulls away from me and massages my scrotum with her callused fingers.

“Let’s not end the party quite yet, mister.”

“What do you suggest we do in the meantime?” I remain laying face-up. The cool soft sand feels incredible against my backside. Kristina keeps on massaging my balls as I reach out and caress her thighs, which are as thick as tree trunks. All her long hours of squatting heavy bone-crunching weights have paid off considerably. Every detail of her quads are well defined. I move down to her calves. They are equally enormous. My hands cannot grasp all of it.

We can all use more Sheila Rock in our lives.

“I suggest we enjoy each other’s bodies,” she says. Kristina moves away from my balls and caresses my chest, tickling my nipples in the process. I jolt up in gleeful surprise when she playfully pinches them hard.

“Oh, Kristina. You know how to drive me mad, you know that?”

“I can only imagine how much I drive you insane. Do you know a lot of women like me?” She proudly flexes her big swollen biceps – bouncing them up and down with impressive precision. I sit up and lick her plump bicep peak. She responds by flexing even harder. The tips of the mountains sitting on her arms are a breathtaking sight to behold. I start to wonder if her bulging muscles will burst out of her skin!

“I have never met a woman as beautiful and strong as you, my dear. Never in my life,” I say to her between licks. “I can guarantee you of that.” My hands reach out and stroke her six-pack abdomen. I feel like I’m going to climax just from doing that. Surprisingly, I remain in control. My fingers go lower and pinch her engorged clitoris. Enlarged from years of using human growth hormones, from a distance it could look like Kristina has a man’s penis. She doesn’t, though. Kristina is unmistakably ALL woman.

“Thank you, darling. I like the way you look, too.” Showing her sincerity, Kristina leaves a trail of kisses down my tummy and ends between my legs. She lightly smooches the tip of my penis. I still struggle to keep my composure together. Kristina giggles at my predicament. Finally, she takes me into her big strong arms and hugs me with all her might. I feel as though the bones in my body will shatter. But her embrace is warm and loving. She sits up and positions me across her lap. Facing each other, we share a languorous kiss before I enter her moist vagina once again.

I bounce up and down on her lap. Our lips never come apart. Our eyes may be closed, but we are staring straight into each other’s souls. She wraps her strong legs around my backside and squeezes me possessively. I want her to own me. I want her to possess me. I want to be hers.

At last, we come together. We both cry out in pleasure. I empty myself inside her. She contracts wildly around my throbbing manhood. We breathe heavily. I collapse on top of her. She falls backwards and lets the cool sand infest her hair. We kiss with every ounce of energy we have left.

After a few moments – but what seemed like a blissful eternity – I remove my softened penis from her and hold her close. By now I look up at a nearby hill and see we’ve attracted a small crowd of audience members. At least a dozen fellow tourists, peering down at our public display of passion, watched in stunned silence. When they see me catching them in the act of shameless voyeurism, they flee as quickly as I noticed them. But I don’t mind. Kristina looks up too and discovers our lovemaking was not made in private.

“Hm. Let them watch, I say!” We snuggle close. The waves cease to crash against the shore and instead calmly brush up against the dry perimeter. After a lengthy kissing session, we pick up our clothes and walk back toward our resort house. It’s only a quarter of a mile away, but we take our merry time making the stroll. All good things in life shouldn’t be rushed. We are in absolutely no hurry.

The moon’s ominous glow portends what will come for us later that evening. I know for a fact Kristina and I will not sleep a wink tonight. Eagerly anticipating hours upon hours of endless carnal pleasure, I take a moment to reflect upon how genuinely lucky I am to be with Kristina at this moment. I’ve always known I was lucky, but I never knew until right now just how fortunate I am.

Truly, she can be with any man in the world. Why me?

Seriously. Why me?

Before the Heavens can provide me with an answer, Kristina picks me up with her mighty arms and carries me through the front door. It slams shut behind us unapologetically. What comes next is not fate, but destiny.

Addressing the Elephant in the Room: Female Bodybuilding and Steroids

Don't inject yourself with anything the shady guy on Facebook gives you. The sketchy guy on Twitter, on the other hand, is probably more reputable. — Don’t inject yourself with anything the shady guy on Facebook gives you. The sketchy guy on Twitter, on the other hand, is probably more reputable.

There’s a large elephant in the room that needs to be addressed.

No, it’s not Dumbo. Or Babar. Or any of the ones that carried historical figures like Hannibal or Alexander the Great into battle. We’re addressing a different kind of elephant, one that’s taking up entirely too much space but none of us are willing to acknowledge.

Sigh. As a female muscle fan, I’m not against talking about this subject, but it’s unavoidable. So here it goes.

Steroids.

There. I said it. Steroids. Steroids. Steroids. Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeroooooooooooooooids.

Steroids.

According to the world-famous online encyclopedia known as Wikipedia, steroids – or, in this case, anabolic steroids – are defined as:

“Anabolic steroids, technically known as anabolic-androgenic steroids (AAS), are drugs that are structurally related to the cyclic steroid rings system and have similar effects to testosterone in the body. They increase protein within cells, especially in skeletal muscles. Anabolic steroids also have androgenic and virilizing properties, including the development and maintenance of masculine characteristics such as the growth of the vocal cords, testicles (primary sexual characteristics) and body hair (secondary sexual characteristics).”

Got all that? I am not a scientist, so I don’t entirely understand the biological properties of anabolic steroids and what exactly they do to the human body. However, we basically all know what they do. They are drugs that help you develop muscle mass. They aren’t a magic pill that transforms you into Ronnie Coleman overnight, but they sure can help you get “big” if maximizing your size is your primary goal.

I will also admit that I am not an expert on the issue of drug use in the sport of professional bodybuilding. If you ask me questions about what policies the IFBB should change, how many pro bodybuilders (both male and female) use steroids, how to technically define “steroids,” or anything like that, I will shrug my shoulders and honestly tell you “I have no f***ing clue.”

I may not be that rude, but you get the point. I don’t have the time, patience, or inclination to diligently research this topic before writing this article. So I am no expert. Alright. Let’s move on.

None of us are naïve. We know many of our favorite bodybuilders and athletes “dope” in order to become and remain top elite competitors. When I look back upon the baseball legends I grew up watching during the 1990s and early 2000s, I now know many of them were “juicing” their way to 50+ home runs, 120+ RBIs and other statistics that earned them Hall of Fame consideration. Some of them are enshrined in Cooperstown, many of them are not – and may never will.

Does juicing still go on in pro sports? Of course. Without a doubt. Methods of testing have definitely improved, but no system is perfect. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. A few people are going to slip through the cracks here and there. Whatever. Just as long as we enjoy watching them play, does it really matter what substances they choose to put into their bodies?

Poor Barry Bonds. The poster child for steroid use in professional sports. He was one heck of a ballplayer regardless.

Before I get too off track, let’s break down the topic of female bodybuilding and steroids in the most logical and honest way possible. Please, feel free to comment down below or send me an e-mail at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com to provide your thoughts. Perhaps your perspective will differ from mine.

Whew. Okay, let’s dive into this deep swimming pool of mixed emotions head-first. Onward!

1. A lot of female bodybuilders take steroids, and that’s perfectly okay

It is a fact that many of our favorite FBBs take steroids to help them get big. It’s an undeniable fact. The reaction many people glean from this most likely sounds something like this:

See? She’s not that strong at all! The only reason why she’s bigger than most guys is because she juices, just like Lance Armstrong and Barry Bonds. I told you so! She’s not really that strong!!!

Fair point. Without the help of synthetic drugs, many FBBs would not be able to become bigger than a lot of men. But I think this criticism misses the larger point about why a lot of guys love female bodybuilders.

We love their beautiful bodies. We love looking at their hard work put on display. Steroids may enhance the fruits of your labor, but they do not replace your labor. No matter what drugs they take or how strategic they are in taking them, no FBB got to be that big without commitment, arduous hard work, dedication, smart planning and making enormous personal sacrifices. As mentioned before, steroids are not a magic pill that can transform Taylor Swift into Debi Laszewski with the flip of a switch.

Granted, lots of us who love FBBs admire them because they’ve achieved a level of muscle mass unmatched by guys who take the “natural” route. So I guess in that respect, we have to burst their bubble. Sorry. It’s not what you think it is.

But nevertheless, that’s not the point here. At the end of the day, we love muscular women because we think they’re tremendously beautiful. Regardless of how they got there, we appreciate the finished product with a degree of awe that’s unmatchable. In my opinion, it’s perfectly okay for a woman to take steroids if they will help her achieve her desired physique. Just as long as she’s safe and always takes her long-term health into consideration, I have no issue here. The elite bodybuilders have professional trainers and doctors advising them on which drugs to take, how many to take, when to take them, and how to determine when enough is enough. It becomes supremely dangerous when someone goes rogue and recklessly pops pills or injects themselves with God-knows-what without consulting an expert.

Don’t do that. It won’t end well.

I perfectly understand that a lot of huge muscular women take drugs. In fact, a few of the FBBs I’ve met in real life admit to taking drugs. But that doesn’t change my opinion of them one iota. They’re still strong gorgeous women who deserve immense praise for their hard work, steadfast belief in themselves and willingness to break social taboos in pursuit of their personal definition of “beautiful.”

As female bodybuilding fans, we’re not arbiters of truth and justice. We’re admirers of beauty. We love these women because they’re so incredibly beautiful. We know they would not be able to achieve that kind of muscularity without “help,” but what difference does that make? Just as we’re aware that many of our favorite celebrities undergo plastic surgery to look younger, slimmer or more beautiful, we love FBBs despite knowing their look may not be 100 percent “natural.”

2. Drugs is only an issue of ethics when we’re dealing with athletic competition

Overall, if a woman decides to use drugs to help her achieve an abnormal level of muscle mass, do we care if that helps her land photo gigs, video shoots and erotic session clients? No, we don’t. So at the end of the day, what difference does it make if our favorite female muscle celebrities (in our world, they’re totally celebrities!) are taking drugs to help them look a certain way? None whatsoever.

However, admittedly things change when we’re dealing with athletic competition. And not just bodybuilding – this includes basketball, tennis, MMA, softball, volleyball, sprinting, etc. No one wants a cheater to win the Gold Medal at the Olympics. But if that same person wants to earn a living becoming a muscle dominatrix to consenting adult clients, that doesn’t nearly matter as much.

So in reality, we only care about the ethics of doping when it comes to high stakes athletic competition. We all want a fair playing field. Whether we’re talking about HGH, spitting on baseballs or deflating footballs, no one wants to see a cheater win. It sucks. It makes you angry and lose faith in the integrity of the sport. Therefore, any professional league that wants to see itself exist in 20 years should vehemently crack down on illegal drug use to weed out the cheaters. It makes business sense.

If such a button existed where you could transform Taylor Swift into Debi Laszewski instantaneously, I would do it before you could finish your sentence.

But a female bodybuilder who uses her body to sell muscle worship appointments, video views and website memberships? She can do whatever the hell she wants with her body. It’s her body and her business. Let her take whatever she wants if she feels like it will help her earn a living. As female muscle fans, we don’t care. We love these women and their beautiful physiques. We shell out our hard earned dollars because we feel they’re worth it.

Know why? Because they totally are.

But when it comes to the business of professional (and high profile amateur) sports, where winners and losers are determined solely by head-to-head competition, we want fairness to be guaranteed in every conceivable way. It isn’t unethical to take drugs, unless you do so to earn an unfair advantage over someone who chooses not to. It’s as simple as that.

3. Repeated use of steroids do have side effects, but we’re totally fine with that

It’s no mystery the effects steroids can have on a woman’s body. Increased muscle mass and levels of testosterone can lead to a deepened voice, more body hair, shrunken breasts, more “masculine” facial features, balding, an enlarged clitoris (which, for the record, is not a penis), aggressive behavior, and other physical/emotional changes.

In fact, these side effects are what turn people off the most from female bodybuilders. Arguably, if female bodybuilders could maintain large muscle mass without having to sacrifice a single degree of traditional “femininity,” one could foresee a reality where FBBs would be way more popular in mainstream culture than they currently are. However, this is not the reality. So, society is stuck in this weird grey area of treating female bodybuilders as women who aren’t fully “women.” We know they are by definition, but there’s enough ambiguity going on to give us major pause.

It sucks for these women, but it is what it is. People have their prejudices. Changing them can be an almost unconquerable challenge.

But, alas, most female bodybuilding fans would argue the side effects inherent in steroid use are not that big of a deal. Or, more precisely, they’re not a deal breaker. Side effects are fine, just as long as they don’t cross certain boundaries.

This is perhaps one of the most common misconceptions about female muscle fetishism. Those of us who love muscular women don’t like all muscular women. Just because you love Italian food doesn’t mean you love every single Italian restaurant in existence. Truth be told, you probably despise more Italian restaurants than you love because of the fact that you’re such a snob. I can tell you from personal experience that there are a few prominent female bodybuilders whom I do not feel attracted to. While I can find a certain degree of beauty in almost all muscular women, overly masculine facial features and other “freaky” side effects totally turn me off. But that is usually the exception and not the rule.

Some people are disgusted by the masculinization effects of steroid use in muscular women. I get that. But the larger point is that female muscle fans are not unaware of that. We know that, accept it, and still find them beautiful despite their unconventional appearances.

4. Fantasy is almost always more appealing than reality

The truth is, the vast majority of guys who love female bodybuilders understand that many of them didn’t achieve high levels of muscularity “naturally.” We’re not naïve about how the world operates. We understand biological restrictions are almost impossible to break through. But this somewhat miss the point about a female bodybuilder’s appeal.

For a lot of us, we love female bodybuilders mostly because we love to fantasize about them. Who they are in real life is not as important as what exists in our imaginations. Of course, once we get to actually meet a few FBBs, we almost always end up liking them as people. But from a distance, fantasy is a powerful driving force in female muscle fandom.

Everyone’s fantasy is different. Worshipping her muscles. Treating her like a Goddess. Being her slave. Being punished for our naughty behavior. Finding out who the real “weaker sex” truly is. And so on. The fantasies may be different, but the general takeaway stays the same: reality isn’t that important.

Reality has its place, but not always. The vast majority of female muscle fans rarely get to personally meet (either in a public or private setting) their idols. Therefore, our fandom mostly consists of what’s in our imaginations. We love strong women for a variety of reasons. Whether there are elements of fantasy, BDSM, curiosity, sexual fetishism or something else entirely at play, who they really are, and how they got to be that big and strong, are secondary to us.

Some people are into Female Muscle Growth (FMG) stories and art. I am not really one of them. But if you are into that sort of thing, go for it. Illustration by Grissse.

That isn’t to say that we disrespect who they are as people. On the contrary, most FBB fans have a tremendous amount of genuine respect for the women they idolize. I’d go as far as to say that we treat these women just the way modern day feminists want all women to be treated. So we aren’t indifferent toward who FBBs are as human beings. Rather, their drawing power is derived from the deep recesses of our imaginations.

So if we find out an FBB takes steroids, growth hormones and other supplements to achieve their superhuman muscularity, that isn’t an issue with us. We love the finished product. We love what their beautiful bodies do for our creative minds. The “spark” they provide us cannot be put into words, but rather images, thoughts and feelings that are almost impossible to articulate.

For many of us, the steroid issue isn’t an issue at all. We’re not ignorant about it. We’re not neglecting it. We just don’t care. People love to fantasize even though they know the foundation of their fantasies is built on a house of cards. It doesn’t matter. Reality has its place. So does fantasy. The lines shouldn’t always have to cross.

5. There will always be a little bit of denial going on

Admittedly, denial will always happen. Some people embrace the “ignorance is bliss” mantra. They know it’s happening but choose to either downplay or ignore it. I’m probably a bit in this category. I know many of my favorite FBBs take drugs. I know they might regret it in the future if (or when) the negative side effects come back to haunt them. I know it’s practically impossible for a woman to develop muscle mass that would make a male bodybuilder jealous without some “assistance.”

I get it. But I don’t always want to think about that. I love fantasizing about these strong beautiful women dominating the bullies who taunt them with sexist remarks. I love imagining what it would be like to make love to a gorgeous muscular woman without having to think about excess body hair or stinky odor that comes with taking steroids. I love thinking about all these things…knowing full well reality doesn’t always match up with fantasy.

When we live life through rose tinted glasses, we tend to idealize those we love. We hold them in higher regards than they deserve. We put them on a pedestal and worship the very ground they walk on. This leads, inevitably, to us overlooking their flaws. We justify their bad behavior. We pick-and-choose which parts of them to celebrate and which parts to ignore. In terms of muscular women, we revel in their strength without fully thinking about what it took for them to achieve that strength. We’re not stupid. We just don’t want to let facts get in the way of our fun.

Facts. Such an inconvenient cog in the engine, am I right? But alas, we know the deal. We know a woman cannot achieve that elite level of muscular development without “help.” We know freaky genetics, maniacal hard work, hardcore dieting and sheer willpower is not enough. We know natural biology cannot be altered overnight. Perhaps thousands of years from now women will evolve to become physically superior to men, but today is not that day. Whatever. Why spoil the fun?

6. What is the actual harm of using steroids?

This point is not meant to be scientific. I am perfectly aware that unwise steroid use can lead to cardiac problems, high blood pressure, liver issues and other negative health consequences. What I’m really trying to say is this:

What’s the big deal if woman uses steroids responsibly?

The answer is simple. It feels like cheating. In point #2, I discuss that steroids only really matter within the context of athletic competitions. That still rings true. But from a cultural perspective, using steroids to get big still feels like you’re “cheating the system.” Or, at the very least, cheating your natural biology.

Bodybuilding, whether you do it professionally or not, is the ultimate personalized sport. Victory or loss, however you define it, is purely determined by your own merit. Unlike team sports, a bad fumble or blown save by a teammate won’t cost you the game. You’re not even competing directly against anyone, such as in tennis or racquetball. The best comparison is golf, a sport in which you compete against others, but you’re mostly competing against yourself. But golf has elements such as weather and course conditions affecting the outcomes of games. Bodybuilding is a sport more based on preparation than game-day performance.

But more than that, a lot of us are amateur bodybuilders, whether we think of ourselves in those terms or not. Let’s face it. We don’t just go to the gym because we want to “stay healthy” or “shed a few pounds.” Some of us may think that way, but most of us workout because…well, we want to look good. We want to look good naked, as Kevin Spacey’s character in American Beauty states. He’s telling the truth. That’s 99 percent of the reason why we exert so much of our time and energy in the gym. We may not have any genuine aspirations to compete, but in our own little world, we’re all trying to develop biceps like Phil Heath.

I cannot confirm that Karen Zaremba was a "natural" bodybuilder, but I suspect she was. — I cannot confirm that Karen Zaremba was a “natural” bodybuilder, but I suspect she was.

This explains the backlash against steroid use in general, not just in the context of female bodybuilding. When we see someone walking around with bigger guns than us, we feel jealous. When we find out they had “help” building those huge arms, we feel a little better about ourselves knowing our inadequate gains can be explained by the fact we don’t “cheat.”

This simply explains why we get such a visceral gut reaction when we find out an FBB takes steroids. It feels like they’ve broken our trust. We feel betrayed that their impressive strength wasn’t achieved fairly. It makes us feel more secure about our own bodies knowing their superiority has an alternative explanation.

In conclusion, what is the actual harm of an FBB taking steroids responsibly? Well, not much. If it helps her advance her career, so be it. That’s none of our business. Is she betraying our trust? No, unless she explicitly lied about not taking drugs. Does that make her any less of a strong woman? Of course not. Steroids are not a magic pill that transforms you into a ripped comic book character with the snap of your fingers. Hard work still matters.

The “Steroid Issue” will always haunt bodybuilders, athletes and gym rats, both male and female. It’s unavoidable. In today’s world, it’s understandable why we’d all be suspicious. The proliferation of the underground drug market has expanded well beyond dark alleys and dimly lit parking lots. Online marketplaces, both on the so-called “surface web” and the nefarious-sounding “deep web,” make acquiring drugs as easy as it’s ever been.

But the flip side of the issue is this: As long as no one is getting hurt or gaining an unfair competitive advantage, what harm do steroids actually cause? Scientific issues aside, it’s mostly a blow to one’s personal sense of integrity.

Integrity. There we are. There’s the core of the problem. Integrity.

At the end of the day, we feel a bodybuilder’s integrity should be called into question if we discover they take steroids to help them get big. Personally, this knowledge does not make me change my opinion about any particular male or female bodybuilder. After all, building muscle is their primary goal. If they receive biomedical “assistance” along the way, so be it. I won’t judge them too harshly, especially when we live in an age where much worse crimes are being committed on a daily basis.

So there you have it. Undoubtedly, we will never settle this issue. Some will always feel uncomfortable by the presence of steroids in bodybuilding. Others will have no problem with it whatsoever. And there will be those who are either indifferent or undecided. Whatever. You can feel however you feel about it. Just know this: Everyone makes choices in their lives. These choices are made to help maximize how much they can get out of life. What jobs we work at, where we live, what foods we eat, who we choose to love, who we hang out with, what entertainment we partake in, etc. If a bodybuilder, male or female, believes taking drugs will help him or her maximize their own personal definition of “happiness” or “fulfillment,” I say we should let them. Of course, every choice has pros and cons. Taking steroids has drawbacks. It’s not a decision that comes risk-free. On the contrary, human growth hormones and the like can be very dangerous if they’re taken without proper medical consultation. This is why you should never trust the shady guy standing on a street corner or the anonymous vendor who sends you a cryptic message on Facebook.

Steroids are here to stay. Judge the people who take them however you want to. But keep this in mind: They take them for a reason. Do you fully understand that reason?

Queen Hippolyta – Carnal Delights (part three)

Queen Hippolyta's arms would definitely look like the arms of Virginia Sanchez. — Queen Hippolyta’s arms would definitely look like the arms of Virginia Sanchez.

Patience was never a virtue embraced by Queen Hippolyta. She believes in firm, direct action. She hates wasting time; especially her time, which she considers to be more valuable than anyone else’s time. In all aspects of her life; governing, war, battle planning, working out, even making love; the Queen pursued what she wanted, whenever she wanted, and as quickly as she wanted.

Akiyama witnessed her impatience up close and personal. After dropping his body onto her bed, Hippolyta laid a long trail of kisses up and down Akiyama’s chest, ending with applying her tongue to his muscular abdomen. Akiyama moans when he feels Hippolyta’s own muscled abdomen brush the sensitive tip of his erect penis.

“This is why I chose you, Akiyama. This is why you are with me now, here in my bed chamber. Because of this…” Queen Hippolyta tails off, deciding to forego conversation and instead take Akiyama’s penis into her mouth. She closes her lips around the base of his shaft and massages his length with her sharp tongue. Akiyama closes his eyes and stifles a moan the best he can. Not one to make a lot of unnecessary noise, Akiyama has never been comfortable openly showing sexual enjoyment. His modesty overtakes him.

Hippolyta sucks on Akiyama’s manhood as she grabs her own seven inch long clitoris and jerks it with her free hand. Her other hand reaches up and explores Akiyama’s rugged biceps. He cannot contain his enjoyment and groans out loud as unstoppable waves of orgasm electrify his entire body. Sensing his impending climax, Hippolyta pulls her mouth away from his penis and instead fondles his firm buttocks. The young warrior turns to his side to allow her better access to his bottom. She resumes stroking her clitoris, wrapping her callused fingers tightly around her thick feminine endowment.

“You are perfect, my Queen. A perfect lover.”

Feeling her own climax coming, Hippolyta frees her hand from her clitoris and takes both of his butt cheeks into her hands, greedily feeling their firmness.

“I take great pride in being a skillful lover, young boy. Nobody gets in my way of experiencing the full delights of the flesh,” she says. Sticking her right index finger inside Akiyama’s anus, she prods around and watches his face to see what kind of a reaction she gets from him. Expectedly, he’s struggling to catch his breath as he indulges in all the sensations the Queen is generously giving him.

“My Queen…ohhhh, you are too much…”

Smiling with wicked glee, Hippolyta removes her finger from his bottom and pulls his entire body closer to her. He sits up and climbs on top of her lap. She spreads her powerful legs wide open and allows Akiyama better access to her body. He looks up at her face, admiring every inch of her. He traces her jawline with his finger and pinches her left nipple. She jolts up at the sudden sensation. Knowing he now has some power over her, the young warrior takes her other nipple into his mouth and sucks on it with as much force as he can. He feels her entire body shudder in response.

“Suck on it, my boy. Show me you know how to please a woman like me…”

Hippolyta closes her eyes and looks up so that she can fully enjoy this moment. She gasps when the ultrasensitive tip of her clitoris taps the tip of Akiyama’s penis as they rock back and forth. One of the drawbacks of having such an inhumanly long feminine endowment is that the sensitive shaft is constantly rubbing up against something, whether it’s her clothing or an inanimate object by accident. The pleasure/pain she derives from this occurrence both delights and bothers her.

As Akiyama persists on sucking her sensitive nipple, he guides his penis at her moist entrance and tilts as far forward as he can to get the right angle to enter her. Hippolyta takes the hint and tries to help him. She thrusts her hips forward, which finally allows his male flesh to enter her fully. He experiments with a few initial thrusts as he bites down hard on her nipple.

She screams in pain, a scream that could probably be heard throughout the entire Kingdom. But she also, much to her unexpected surprise, discovers that she enjoys the pain derived from Akiyama’s violent erotic act.

“Ohhh…yessssss…bite again, young lover!”

He obeys her command and gently bites down around her entire areola. Not wanting to break the skin, he moves to the other breast and repeats the same action. Hippolyta screams again, this time louder than before. Her enjoyment from this experience is remarkably eye-opening to the already sexually experienced Queen. No lover of hers has ever been this bold and attentive to her bodily sensations.

Akiyama chooses to focus his attention on their coupling. He wraps his strong legs around her stronger legs and encloses himself around her thick body, wanting to get as close to her as possible. He pulls in and out of her rhythmically, and she responds with her own rocking back and forth with perfect timing. Several thrusts later, Akiyama and Hippolyta come at the same time, sharing endless waves of orgasm together in the solitude of her bed chamber.

The tyrannical Queen has not chosen a partner yet to impregnate her with her eventual female heiress, but her decision to not take any precautions tonight ensures it will be Akiyama. Taking in more of his masculine seed, she knows this night of carnal delights will result in the conception of a child. If it’s a male child she bears, he will be sent to the remote island of Hawaiki, where male children of the Amazons are raised until adulthood. If it’s a female child she bears, she will be raised by Hippolyta’s handmaidens and groomed to become the next Queen, as the Amazonian High Council no longer has any authority to choose the next leader. It is the wish of Hippolyta that her descendants be the only ones eligible for the throne from now until eternity.

Several moments later, Akiyama pulls his penis out of Hippolyta’s vagina and collapses backward onto the bed. The satisfied Queen rolls next to him and wraps her strong arms around him, cradling him like a small child. As far as Hippolyta is concerned, Akiyama might as well be a helpless small child, for he serves no other purpose other than to please her at her whim.

They choose not to speak for several minutes. The rain has halted outside. It is still deep into the blackness of night. Hippolyta estimates sunrise will arrive in four or five hours. The fire from the fireplace still burns brightly, illuminating the entire room. The two spent lovers close their eyes and attempt to fall asleep, but cannot.

Akiyama at last breaks the dead silence.

“Have you taken on a lover yet, my Queen?”

Surrendering her attempt to sleep, Hippolyta crawls closer to her lover and cups his scrotum with her prickly fingers and plays gently with his testicles. Akiyama makes no noise of protest.

“No, young boy. I have not taken on a lover yet. I’m 43 years of age, which is older than most of my predecessors when they chose who would be the father of their heiresses,” she says. “Now that I think of it, every single Amazonian Queen had taken on a lover by now. I am the oldest ruler without a partner.” Even though Akiyama is turned away from her, he can sense Hippolyta trying to stifle sobs. He might have felt a few warm tears strolling down her face and onto his shoulders. He wisely chooses not to comment on her weeping.

As a militaristic despot, Queen Hippolyta has spent the majority of her years ruling over the Empire conquering massive amounts of territory and people groups. She has ignored the need for taking on a male lover and instead believed she would always find time for that later. Unfortunately for her, she may have put it off a little too late. Her advisors have told her she may be too old to bear a child, as she has never even attempted to conceive of a child in her entire life.

One day she looked into her mirror and began to see lines and wrinkles on her face where they didn’t exist before. The Queen denied this and justified this as a symptom of working late hours to keep her Empire intact. But gossip spread throughout the Forbidden Palace that she needs to choose a lover sooner rather than later, for she might jeopardize her wish for the Amazonians to be ruled by her blood line for infinitude. Hippolyta could not ignore the gossip. She knew what everybody else knew. This is why her palace bodyguards reacted strongly when she commanded Akiyama be taken to her bed chamber. Would this boy be the one the Queen chooses to provide the seed for her offspring? Even right now, her guards are chattering about this exciting possibility as they stand on duty.

“You don’t have to live life this way, my Queen.”

“What way are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Akiyama begins. He turns around and faces her. They kiss. He strokes her beautiful face while caressing her bottom. The young warrior wipes a few tears off her cheek and tastes them. Salty yet sweet, even she is surprised at her sudden demonstration of emotional vulnerability. “You don’t have to rule by fear. People don’t fear you because they’re afraid of you. They fear you because they’re scared that if you die, the Empire will start to crumble around them. They fear you because they love you.”

Hippolyta sniffs away more tears, but chooses to maintain a shield of strength in front of Akiyama. She knows intrinsically that he’s absolutely right, and will not deny his wisdom.

“I’ve thought about that. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe that is the reason why my people fear me. They fear what would become of them if my rule were to suddenly vanish. But I cannot think of things in those terms. I must always think about moving forward without looking too far into the distance. I do not plan to abdicate power anytime soon. In fact, the only condition upon which I would step down is if I am either killed or I feel my next of kin is ready to take over.” Akiyama touches Hippolyta’s belly, knowing their child may be conceived from this night of erotic passion. The Queen immediately understands what he means by this gesture and holds her hands against his, pressing up upon her six-pack abdomen.

“Our daughter will rule this Kingdom someday. Not just the Amazonian Empire, but the entire Kingdom,” Akiyama promises. He has already conceded that the Nakatomi clan will not be able to maintain sovereignty over their territory and that within 10 to 15 years they too will come under control by the Amazonians. Before this fateful night, Akiyama would have considered this inevitable fate to be a tragedy. But after spending the night with the dreaded Amazonian Queen, his mind has changed. He now believes the entire Kingdom will benefit from her tyrannical rule.

They do not speak for a long time. Both of them are absorbing the weight of Akiyama’s words. Hippolyta did not expect to take on her lover on this evening. Nor did Akiyama expect anything less than a swift and brutal execution. But here they are, lying together in the afterglow of a long evening of lovemaking. They both know their child will be conceived tonight. They can only wish it will be a daughter.

“I love you, Akiyama.” She kisses his forehead.

“I love you too, Hippolyta.”

Hippolyta gasps when she hears Akiyama call her “Hippolyta,” a name that men are forbidden from directly addressing her. Especially when in intimate company, the Queen hates it when a man calls her by her first name. Anger burns within her, a sudden change of emotion that Akiyama instantly picks up on.

“What did you just call me?!” The furious Queen gets up and grabs Akiyama by the throat. He chokes, unable to breathe.

“I’m, uhhhhgggg, sorry…my Queen…I did not mean it…”

“Foolish boy! You do not address me by my first name!” Hippolyta picks up Akiyama and throws him violently to the floor. He crashes loudly and knocks over her box of jewelry from the vanity. The Queen kicks Akiyama in the stomach, causing the young warrior to spin backwards and hit the north facing wall. The wind knocked out of him, he staggers to his feet and prepares to fight the intimidating Queen. He finds a short dagger sitting on a small table and picks it up. When Hippolyta lunges toward him, he jabs at her and stabs her in her side.

The Queen lets out a throaty cry of pain. A rumble of thunder crashes across the sky, muffling her scream so that her bodyguards outdoors could not hear her. Hippolyta pulls the knife out of her body and looks at it, then eyes the blood dripping from her side. Her anger subsides, and she begins to laugh. She stares at Akiyama, whose face is full of horror. He does not know what to do next.

“My temper can get the best of me sometimes. I commend you, young Akiyama. You did an admirable job defending yourself,” she says, finding a rag to wipe herself with. “Then again, for a brave samurai warrior like yourself, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Still utterly stunned, Akiyama falls to the floor and realizes how much pain he is in. He grabs his belly and notices a dark bruise already starting to form. He hugs himself and begins to whimper like a hapless infant.

Another roll of thunder rocks the outside world. The volatile Queen locates a white blouse and rips it in half with her bare hands. She ties it around her torso to stop the bleeding. She carelessly drops the bloody knife on top of the table where Akiyama found it. A flash of lightning is seen from a nearby window. The rain starts to pick up again. Like a wild pack of cheetahs, a torrential downpour commences as quickly as the blink of an eye. Hippolyta approaches Akiyama and helps him to his feet. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

“Forgive me, Akiyama. My anger can be uncontrollable when I feel any hint of disrespect. I know you did not mean anything by your foolish comment. But let me warn you. Never, ever address me directly as Hippolyta, understand, young boy?” Akiyama has finally regained his composure and steady breathing. He looks up at the frightening Queen and nods his head emphatically. She kisses him again on the cheek.

“I made a mistake. And I paid for it. Everyone in the Kingdom knows that men are forbidden from addressing you by your first name. I broke that rule and crossed a line I shouldn’t have. It was my fault. I sincerely apologize, my Queen,” he says. Akiyama looks up and kisses her on the lips. His fear of her has temporarily gone away, but he now knows how suddenly her temper can rear its ugly head. The young warrior promises to himself he will be more careful to obey the proper protocol.

With compassion in her eyes, Hippolyta knows exactly how to mend their broken relationship.

“Come here.”

The Queen walks over to a door leading to the outside and opens it. Obediently, Akiyama follows her. They step onto a small balcony overlooking the entire Forbidden Palace. Rainwater cascades off their naked bodies from all directions. Hundreds of Hippolyta’s bodyguards see her and look up at their leader. They gasp when they see Akiyama follow behind her. Both of them naked, with a red stained white cloth tied around her belly, the guards quickly begin to gossip amongst themselves.

Ignoring their meandering chatter, she bends over, grasps onto the metal railing, and spreads her legs out wide. Her invitation could not be more evident. Akiyama’s erection returns and he forcefully hugs her from behind. Cupping her breasts with his hands, he pinches her nipples, causing her to groan. With hundreds of audience members watching with their undivided attention, the Queen wants the entire Empire to know that this boy from a rival tribe would be her lover. Akiyama positions the head of his penis at her entrance and penetrates her from behind. Inch by inch, he sinks himself deeper into her, until he cannot go any further. Cheers erupt from the audience down below.

Akiyama grips her hips and thrusts in and out of her. The ravished Queen squeezes her lengthy clitoris with her free hand and masturbates while her young lover makes love to her. The crowd of guards breaks their rigid formation and slowly gathers below the balcony. They do not fear being reprimanded by their leader.

“Take me, Akiyama!”

“I am, my Queen…I…I am…!”

The young warrior knows he is getting close once again. Hippolyta clenches her inner thigh muscles to heighten her pleasure. Akiyama can feel her body tremble and quake under the building force of her impending orgasm. She strokes her clitoris even faster in response to the young warrior’s penis thrusting harder and harder inside her.

Queen Hippolyta looks up to the sky, feels the cold rainwater drench her entire body, and screeches louder than ever before. Her guards down below quivers in fear, for they have never seen their despotic leader shriek that maniacally before. One last squeeze of her clitoris, complemented by Akiyama’s final deep thrust inside her, brings her to a glorious climax, one she will never forget as long as she lives. Her widening stance causes her to slip and fall to the ground. She hits the floor of the balcony with a thud, for she cannot control the pleasureful sensations her body is giving her.

Akiyama, who has not come yet, squats down and inserts his hardened penis inside her once again as she convulses on the floor. One final push…and he climaxes hard, emptying everything he has left into her. His spasms last for an impossible amount of time. Hippolyta, whose insides are still contracting, rests her chin against the mud forming around her.

Wet, covered in grime and totally spent of energy, the two lovers lay together on the floor of the balcony, letting the rain wash their beautiful bodies. The guards watching disperse back to their posts, enthusiastic gossip filling the freezing cold air. Akiyama crawls nearer to his lover and kisses her on the cheek. Hippolyta, still in an erotic trance, continues to deliberately stroke her seven inch long clitoris. Drained of energy, she cannot move a single muscle. However, she doesn’t care about that, as she is now covered by the nubile body of her young lover.

“We should go inside, my Queen. It’s cold and wet.”

The satiated Queen kisses Akiyama on the forehead and fondles his penis, rubbing the remainder of his warm semen onto her fingers. She puts them into her mouth and tastes his seed. She enjoys his briny essence.

“No. Let’s stay here for a while.”

He kisses the back of her neck languidly. Heavy chunks of mud coat their bodies. Neither of them care about their dirtiness. All they care about is each other.

“Yes, my Queen.” He fails to kiss her again before they both drift to sleep.

To be continued.

Queen Hippolyta – Unexpected Vulnerability (part two)

Traveling up the long spiral staircase at a hurried pace gave Akiyama a nauseous sense of motion sickness. After ascending up five stories, Queen Hippolyta, with her young captured prize wrapped in her arms, comes to a full stop and drops Akiyama to his feet.

They are inside her bed chamber. Ornamented with jewels, silk curtains, fine Persian rugs and the skulls of her vanquished enemies, Akiyama immediately understands who he is dealing with: a bloodthirsty and unapologetic narcissist who is supremely proud of her brutality. Her callous nature isn’t a flaw, but instead an admirable character trait. Akiyama could not imagine the unbearable pain her enemies must have experienced the moment before she claimed their lives.

“Here we are. You should consider yourself lucky. No man has ever entered my bed chamber before,” she remarks. Hippolyta walks to her hand-crafted vanity and looks at herself in the mirror, fixing her hair and removing an unwelcomed speck of dirt from her face. Akiyama can only stand frozen in place and watch her every movement with sheer curiosity.

“No man? I find that hard to believe. You can have any man you desire, my Queen,” Akiyama says. Hippolyta doesn’t look away from the mirror as she laughs at his impertinence.

“It has nothing to do with a man not wanting to enter my bed chamber. I hate men. I hate all men, especially those who are my enemies. You may not be my primary enemy, but you serve under him,” she says. “Nevertheless, you are a one-of-a-kind. A rare specimen, if I may say so.”

Akiyama shakes off his nervousness and explores the room. He touches an unusual looking lamp and realizes it’s made from the bones of a saber-toothed tiger. The young warrior has never encountered such a beast before, but he is confident that someone who has must be just as deadly, if not more so.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

Silence. In the more intimate setting, Akiyama is allowed a better look at Hippolyta’s magnificent body. Every square inch covered with muscle, she is more chiseled than most of the Amazonian warriors he’s encountered. This is further proof of her status as a Goddess among men. He cannot take his eyes off her no matter how hard he tries. He knows he cannot contain his lust for her for long.

“Let’s dispense with the frivolities of pointless conversation. We both know why you’re here. You are to please me all night long, till the sun rises in the morning. I desire your body. I desire for you to become a part of my body and please me till I am satisfied. You will not stop until I am fully satisfied. Is that clear, young boy?” The Queen removes her eight-inch stiletto heels and approaches Akiyama barefoot. Though removing her footwear does make her noticeably shorter, she is still one of the most physically intimidating human beings he’s ever witnessed.

“Clear as a spring morning. I understand fully what you want me to do this evening,” he responds.

“Good. Then let’s begin. Remove your clothes, fair youth.”

Hippolyta sits down on her bed, which is surrounded by angelic blue silk sheets on all four sides. Hanging from the tall ceiling, they look like a rushing river flowing from Heaven to her bed. She watches him with lustful intentions. Not one to stall or to waste valuable time, Akiyama removes his shirt and reveals the detailed condition of his battle wound. The Queen gasps audibly in reaction to seeing his broad chest and protruding abdomen muscles on full display. She feels wetness forming between her massive legs. The young warrior can sense her eyes studying his supple body.

Next, Akiyama drops his pants to the floor and brushes it aside with his left foot, revealing his small penis to her. The expression on Hippolyta’s face changes from intrigue to downright disappointment, as she was expecting a larger endowment from her young prisoner. However, he is not yet fully erect, so she will reserve judgement until later.

After removing his combat boots, Akiyama is fully naked. His wound, numerous bruises and the Queen’s menacing watchfulness make him feel more naked than he’s ever felt before. He is bare in ways beyond not wearing clothing. The tyrannical Queen holds all the power in this moment, while the young warrior holds absolutely none.

“Excellent. I am impressed with most of you, but not all of you,” she says, pointing to Akiyama’s tiny manhood. This is not the first time a woman has chided him for lacking girth, but he is confident he can satisfy her regardless of his size. There are countless beautiful girls in his village who can attest to that.

“Let’s see what you got, my Queen.”

Taking that as a playful challenge, Hippolyta chooses not to reprimand him for that disrespectful remark. Normally she would cut the throat of any man who attempts to give her an order, but she knows this is neither the time nor the place for that type of inhumane behavior.

“I shall, young prisoner.”

Hippolyta stands up from the bed and unhooks the necklace from her neck. She lays it down on the vanity inside a small wooden box. Akiyama takes a small step backward. The Queen then unties her scarlet red night robe and drops it to the floor carelessly, revealing her beautiful nude body. Demonstrating an air of confidence that Akiyama could never equal no matter how hard he tried, Queen Hippolyta is as striking and visually arresting as any woman he’s ever seen. With long taut nipples, full breasts, a six-pack abdomen even more impressive than his, and…

My God. Oh my stars. It can’t be…she can’t possibly have…is that…?

Akiyama’s breathing stops. He refuses to believe what his eyes are seeing. That cannot be what he thinks it is…

Sure enough, she does have exactly what Akiyama is seeing with his own two eyes. Queen Hippolyta has, much to his utter shock, an enormous seven inch long clitoris that defiantly hangs between her thighs. Akiyama has seen his share of female parts before, but nothing like this. Indeed, her clitoris has everything a normal clitoris has: a shaft, hood, protruding head, and labia around it. But her shaft is long. Longer than Akiyama ever thought was possible. Impossibly long.

The Queen knows what her young prisoner is staring at, and is blissfully enjoying every moment of it.

Without question, he is embarrassed that her feminine endowment is much larger than his male endowment. He initially thinks to ask her whether her clitoris is actually a penis, but he decides against it. There’s no need to superfluously anger her for whatever reason.

“I know what you’re looking at, Akiyama. Don’t worry. I’m all woman.”

Perhaps it was something in the way she said his name, but hearing the Queen assure him she’s “all woman” triggers in Akiyama a faint memory from childhood. Her maternal voice sounds soothing and comforting, despite her gravelly cadence. He couldn’t put his finger on what this means, but he knows it’s significant.

The pounding of the rain against the ceiling permeates throughout the room. Not wanting to waste a single moment, Hippolyta approaches Akiyama and kisses him deeply, sticking her tongue as far as she can inside Akiyama’s mouth. He gags at her intrusive penetration. Her hands explore his backside, stroking up and down his muscled back. Akiyama returns the favor and wraps his arms around the Queen’s torso, feeling her solid core. When her massive clitoris pokes him in the belly, Akiyama nearly groans in pain. He wonders how she can possibly be so hard down there.

The Queen, done with this dull foreplay, picks up Akiyama like a dog and throws him onto the bed. Akiyama lands on his back and hits his head against one of her many soft feather pillows. Hippolyta pulls back one of the silk sheets and enters the bed area. She leans over and kisses the tip of Akiyama’s erect penis, causing him to moan out loud. Hippolyta fondles his scrotum and tickles the shaft of his manhood. Akiyama holds his breath and closes his eyes tightly to prevent him from coming too soon.

Without warning, Hippolyta lowers herself over Akiyama’s body and envelopes her moist vagina around his penis. Her tender feminine flesh welcomes his hardened masculine flesh. The two muscular warriors cry out at the exact moment of their intimate joining. She begins to ride him with a languorous rhythm, not wanting to rush this moment. Akiyama opens his eyes and locks on to the Queen’s strong body. Her broad shoulders. Rock hard thighs. Enormous arms that greedily take up a lot of room. A wide back with visible mounds of muscle packed throughout every square inch. Calves that could crush stone. Rigid calluses covering all her fingers and the palms of her hands. And, of course, a seven inch long clitoris that Akiyama still cannot believe actually exists.

Every intimate part of Hippolyta’s body is a product of divine inspiration. The gods above could not craft a more perfect looking human being. She may be mortal flesh and blood, but Akiyama would completely accept the notion that she’s not of this physical Earth. She is that remarkable.

The Queen quickens her pace. With every thrust of her pelvis, Akiyama feels himself closer and closer to climax. She tightens her vagina around him so that she could squeeze as much pleasure out of her prisoner as possible. Her sudden tightness steals his breath away. Hippolyta senses her own impending orgasm, but wishes to prolong their lovemaking even longer. She slows down her pace and selfishly explores his chiseled body with her firm hands. Loving every inch of him, she confesses silently to herself that she never expected sex would be this good with a man. Hippolyta has only made love to women in her life, and had little confidence this mortal man would measure up to her high erotic standards.

Akiyama lets out a deep breath as Hippolyta propels her hips backward, so that the tip of his penis is poised at her sensitive entrance. They lock eyes one last time. Akiyama wants to speak and break the silence, but Hippolyta refuses to let him ruin this perfect moment and thrusts onto his manhood one last time. This final move of their sensual dance sends both of them over the edge. Akiyama climaxes hard and spills his seed into her. Hippolyta’s vaginal walls contract wildly around him, taking in his seed with greedy recklessness. She screams at the top of her lungs, looking up at the Heavens for approval. She doesn’t know if any of the gods above are watching them, but she is certain they are commending them for their masterful erotic performance.

Exhausted, Hippolyta collapses on top of Akiyama and they share one more intimate kiss before they both fall asleep to a peaceful slumber.

An hour later, Akiyama wakes up to an unexpectedly warm glow flooding the room. He sits up and sees the Queen applying wooden logs to a fireplace. He did not notice there was a fireplace in her bed chamber, but sure enough there is in the south corner.

Stoking the flames with more pieces of chopped wood, she turns around when she hears Akiyama get up from her bed. She smiles at her prisoner, pleased with his performance from earlier in the evening.

“I am pleasantly surprised, young prisoner. You are a skilled lover.” The rain has stopped and continues only at a subtle drizzle.

A full body shot of Asha Hadley. You're welcome. — A full body shot of Asha Hadley. You’re welcome.

“Thank you, my Queen. But it was mostly you who led our previous lovemaking. I hardly played a part in it.” Akiyama hugs the Queen from behind and feels her firm buttocks. He laughs when she teasingly bounces her glute muscles up and down.

“Nonsense. Sex is a dance. And one cannot dance without a partner, am I right?”

“You are correct, my Queen. Indeed, you are.”

Picking up a metal poker, Hippolyta jabs at the fire to separate two logs that had stuck together. She loves the feel of the fire’s heat blanketing her naked skin. It’s not too often that Hippolyta, as the supreme leader of the Amazons, can enjoy such a peaceful and joyous moment alone with a lover. Someone in her position of power must consistently instill fear into her underlings no matter what. Her mother always taught her it is better to be feared than loved. It is this philosophy that guides her leadership style. She will not hesitate to execute a subordinate who shows no fear toward her, even if that poor soul is valuable to the Empire. More often than not, Hippolyta would be the one who takes out her sword and beheads the unfortunate inferior.

“May I ask you a question, young boy?”

“Yes, of course you can, my Queen. Ask me anything you desire.”

Her eyes remain fixated on the fire’s poetic flames. “Do you fear me?”

Akiyama, who had been kissing up and down her broad back, stops perusing her body and thinks about her question. How should he answer? Will his response prompt her to execute him on the spot without any chance of defending himself?

“I do not fear you, my Queen.”

Hippolyta’s focus on the flames abruptly ends and she turns toward him, tears welling up in her eyes. She weeps uncontrollably. She cannot stop it. It comes like an unstoppable flood.

“You…don’t? Why not? Everyone in the Kingdom, including your General Ijiri, whom I consider to be a brave man, fears me. Everyone. Every single soul knows my name and trembles when they hear it spoken aloud. Is this not true?” Akiyama traces Hippolyta’s sharp jawline and feels a stream of hot tears rolling down her gorgeous face.

“This is true. Your name’s weight is enough to bring down the Walls of Jericho. You are notorious among every man, woman, and child in the Kingdom.” He is telling the truth, no matter what the consequences may be. Akiyama knows he will eventually be killed, so what does he have to fear?

“But you are not afraid of me. Why is that? Answer me!”

Akiyama takes a deep breath and chooses not to think about his response ahead of time. He will trust his keen instincts, which have served him well in the past. Perhaps it will serve him equally well in this moment.

“I am not afraid of you because I do not fear death. To me, death is closely intertwined with life. As a warrior, who has sworn on the graves of his departed relatives to defend the clan to the death, I am accustomed to contemplating matters of eternity. I have chosen not to fear it. Instead, I’ve chosen to embrace it. Why worry about something that’s inevitable?”

“That would be a waste of your time.”

“Exactly. So you understand where I’m coming from. I do not fear death, I do not fear pain, therefore I do not fear you. I respect you, but that is not the same thing as being fearful of you. Because I accept death as a part of life, what reason do I have to fear you, my Queen?”

Queen Hippolyta takes several moments to let Akiyama’s brave words digest. Her weeping subsides. He is intelligent, that’s for sure. He is also bold. Not careless, but he does not live any part of his live with modesty. These qualities explain why Akiyama is such an accomplished warrior and highly respected among the elders of the Nakatomi clan.

“My god. You are not who I thought you would be, young boy.”

“Really? What did you expect, my Queen?”

“I was expecting a scared youngster who wouldn’t be a man enough to face me like this and be so honest.”

Akiyama courageously lands a profound kiss onto Hippolyta’s sweet lips. Her weeping returns. She lets the tears freely flow down her face without attempting to hide them, a showcase of vulnerability that surprises even her. What is it in this young boy that causes her to become so emotionally frail?

“Trust me, my Queen. I am all man.”

After speaking these words, Akiyama kneels down and takes her engorged clitoris into his hand. He strokes it up and down, playing with its full length. He still cannot believe the length and thickness of her intimate piece of flesh, yet her femininity goes unquestioned.

The Queen braces herself in front of the fire. A black metallic screen blocks her body from the flame’s oppressive bite. She closes her eyes and indulges in Akiyama’s intimate touching of her body. The young warrior takes her sensitive flesh into his mouth and laps the tip of her clitoris with his tongue. He continues to stroke her clitoral shaft, this time with both hands. Every caress builds her up toward another orgasmic climax. He wants to satisfy her, no matter what it takes.

“Oh, yes. Yes, young lover. Ohhh, yes…mmmmmm, yesssssss………….”

Sucking the broad head of her clitoris with the full force of his mouth, Akiyama gives her impossibly long and hard feminine shaft one last forceful squeeze. She climaxes and squirts a small amount of murky white fluid out of her vagina. It falls into the fireplace and immediately steams up once it lands onto the raging flames.

Akiyama sticks a finger inside her vagina and feels her walls contracting wildly. Hippolyta spreads her legs out wide and bellows another throaty scream to the Heavens. The prisoner smiles when she sees the expression on her face; a perfect combination of satisfaction and prolonging hunger.

Her hunger is apparent, as she picks up Akiyama once more into her strong arms and escorts him back to her bed. Akiyama’s penis hardens again as he anticipates a second coupling.

“You are a man, Akiyama. You are nothing but a man. But do one thing for me, young lover.”

“What, my Queen?”

“Show me how much of a man you are.” She smirks, kisses him again, drops him onto the bed, and prepares to ravage the young boy once more.

To be continued.

Queen Hippolyta – Prized Possession (part one)

Queen Hippolyta is a mixture of Monica Martin... — Queen Hippolyta is a mixture of Monica Martin…

As night fell, so did the rain. As thunder boomed across the black sky, so did the merciless pounding of war drums. Akiyama marched, hands tied behind his back and a blindfold wrapped around his eyes, toward the Forbidden Palace.

The Forbidden Palace rests in the heart of the Amazonian Empire. Akiyama is going to see Queen Hippolyta, the despotic tyrant who rules over the Amazons. The reality of being so far into enemy territory, where many of his friends and ancestors have perished, is enough to make Akiyama sick to his stomach.

Throughout his entire life, Akiyama has ingrained into his psyche the belief that the Amazons are his tribe’s mortal enemy. A courageous young Samurai warrior representing the powerful Nakatomi clan, Akiyama was captured in battle just hours ago and immediately was ordered to pay Queen Hippolyta a visit.

Akiyama couldn’t see the rain, but he could feel it. Like an ocean falling from the sky, he could not be sure whether his village would be flooded by morning or if they would avoid the worst. He thought about his father, his mother and his four brothers. He thought about his clan. He thought about his own life. Would Queen Hippolyta brutally execute him as a demonstration of her cruelty? Would his capture deter General Ijiri from launching another sneak attack against the Amazonian occupiers?

General Ijiri, a very wise man, loves Akiyama like his own son. He cannot imagine what the powerful military leader is thinking right now, knowing Akiyama is being escorted to his inevitable death.

The two guards accompanying Akiyama take him up a long flight of stairs. Finally they reach indoors, as Akiyama feels the rain stop. He hears whispers coming from all directions. He hates the Amazons, but respects them. Their brute strength, strategic cunning and relentless spirit should be admired by anyone. He also fears them, especially their ruthless Queen.

He hears two large chamber doors open. One of the guards kicks him in the back, forcing him to fall forward. The doors close with a loud thud. He hears a voice; a low, gravelly voice that reverberates with unquestioned authority. One of her bodyguards comes toward him and rips off the blindfold. Akiyama blinks several times to adjust his eyes to the light’s dull yellow glow. Finally, he looks up, still on his knees, and regards the all-powerful Queen who has ordered for his presence.

Standing at an impressive 6’ 5”, Queen Hippolyta wears a regal velvet green backless dress that shows off her enormously strong muscles. Statuesque and carrying the confidence of ten thousand brave warriors, Queen Hippolyta’s golden bronze skin, long black hair, piercing green eyes and strikingly gorgeous face perfectly complement her large muscular frame. With biceps the size of coconuts, a chest as broad as a bear, legs as thick as tree trunks and abs that not even her protective breast plate could hide, Akiyama now understands why she could move mountains and men at will. Who in their right mind would possibly want to defy her?

“Prisoner, stand up and come towards me,” she commands. Her authoritative voice seemingly causes the ground to shake.

Akiyama struggles to stand, as he is still in a tremendous amount of pain from the evening’s battle. A large cut bleeds across his muscular chest. He may not have the muscle mass or remarkable strength of the Queen, but he can hold his own. Akiyama eventually comes to his feet and takes several paces toward the throne, which sits at the center of the palatial chamber.

“What is your name, prisoner?”

Akiyama looks around and notices at least two dozen muscular female bodyguards standing at attention around the chamber. Wearing metallic body armor and holding six-foot long spears, Akiyama knew his chances of escape were nonexistent. He decides he could not put up a fight and accepts his fate.

...and the flawless Alina Popa. — …and the flawless Alina Popa.

“My name is Akiyama, samurai warrior of the Nakatomi clan,” he proudly announces. Queen Hippolyta steps forward and circles him, inspecting Akiyama’s appearance. Several inches shorter than her, Akiyama’s athletic body and handsome appearance pleases the Queen immensely. She unexpectedly feels a tinge of attraction toward the young samurai. He may be a representative of her mortal enemy, but her undeniable lust for this young man supersedes whatever hatred she feels for his tribe.

“You are an impressive youth. I am not surprised that you have fought my armies many times and did not die,” Hippolyta observes. She extends her right index finger and feels Akiyama’s wound. He is taken aback by the remarkable strength she demonstrates with just that simple motion. Feelings of lust also immediately erupt within his soul. “What shall I do with you, prisoner?”

Akiyama remains silent. Queen Hippolyta faces him directly. Her eyes darken.

“Answer me, boy. In what manner should I treat you, my captured prize?”

The young warrior looks around the room. He notices disdainful smiles coming from her array of lethal bodyguards. His heart races faster than it ever has before.

“Do what you will. I will accept whatever punishment you lay on me. It will be an honor to die for my tribe. I am prepared to endure your worst.”

Her eyebrow rises slightly. She locks eyes with her prisoner, stares at him intently and bellows with laughter. The rest of the chamber remains eerily quiet.

“Very brave of you. I was expecting a different answer. Something more in the realm of begging for mercy or offering to become a spy for my army. But not this.”

“I am glad I can please you,” he says with scorn. Queen Hippolyta stops laughing and grabs his throat. Akiyama feels the air cutting off from him. He drops to one knee, looking up at his enemy with fear in his eyes.

“You do not speak unless I give you permission to speak, is that clear?” she commands. All Akiyama could muster is a weak nod of his head. Seemingly pleased with that reaction, she drops him to the ground and walks back toward her throne. Akiyama coughs and gasps for air. The Queen snaps her fingers and two bodyguards approach the wounded prisoner and grab him by both arms. They hoist him up to his feet and drag him toward their leader.

“You will discover that my temper can be volatile at times, fair youth. I try to be as gentle as I can, but I cannot let weakness enter into my mind. The moment I relent on my brutality is the moment my Empire will begin to crumble. I will not let that happen,” she says. “You will soon learn why the Amazonian High Council chose to put me in charge. You will also learn why I had them all put to death so that my power could be omnipotent.”

Rumors of Queen Hippolyta murdering all eighteen members of the Amazonian High Council, which had ruled the Amazonian Empire for a thousand generations, circulated around the Kingdom. Nobody in the Nakatomi clan believed it fully, except for the Emperor, whose sister once sat on the Council. It was partially out of anger of his sister being killed that he ordered for the Samurai Army to rise up against the Amazons and form an insurgency.

The Queen motions to the bodyguards to take Akiyama away. They pick him up and elevate him off the floor.

“Take him away,” she orders. Akiyama and the two bodyguards start to move toward the front chamber doors.

“Stop! Not that way.”

The guards halt and turn around toward their Queen. Drops of sweat roll off Akiyama’s handsome face. He struggles to breathe.

“Take him to my bed chamber.” An audible collective gasp arises from the room. Obediently, the two guards change directions and head toward a back exit facing north. The Queen holds up her left hand to silence the room. As Akiyama and the two guards exit, he steals a quick glance her way and instantly makes eye contact with her. He sees in her eyes a wicked combination of anger, craftiness, deviousness and irrepressible lust. She smiles as the stone doors close behind him.

Walking down a narrow and vast corridor, Akiyama is taken deeper and deeper into the heart of the Forbidden Palace. They pass by an outdoor training area, which is still busy despite the persisting rain. Akiyama sees hundreds of Amazon warriors lifting heavy rocks, pushing large boulders, practicing combat with bamboo sticks, pulling ropes with stones attached to them and running laps around the square. He is stunned to see so many gorgeous muscular women of all shapes, sizes and ages diligently training to become elite warriors. He’s fought many of them before, so he knows how formidable these women can be in the heat of battle.

Jeannie Paparone is demonstrating what a typical Amazon warrior would look like. No doubt, very deadly.

They turn direction and walk up a small grassy hill. Once they reach the top, Akiyama sees a small castle overlooking a lake. A beautiful garden surrounds the castle from all sides, featuring flowers he’d never seen before, as well as marble statues of ancient Amazon Queens from centuries past. All of them as muscular and intimidating as Hippolyta, he can see that she’s descended from a long line of legendary warriors. But none of them compare to Hippolyta’s impressive accomplishments, as right now nearly seventy percent of the Kingdom is under Amazonian control, which far exceeds the forty percent achieved by Hippolyta’s great–great–great grandmother many moons ago.

One of the guards takes out a key and unlocks the front door. They motion for Akiyama to go inside.

“Go in. We will close the door behind you,” one of the guards tells him.

Looking up at a majestic stone spire that reaches up to the Heavens, Akiyama is enjoying the icy rain drops falling on his face.

“Get in, prisoner,” the other guard orders. “Do as you’re told.”

Akiyama takes the hint and steps inside. The doors close behind him. The two guards take out broadswords from their belts and stand at attention by the door. Inside the castle, rich tapestries and polished furniture adorn the entryway. On the walls are paintings celebrating the victories of past wars. Akiyama feels disgusted when he sees a portrait of the Nakatomi Emperor’s head being held up by Hippolyta’s great grandmother. This story is taught to every young boy growing up in his clan. It is with a sense of righteous vengeance that Nakatomi Samurai warriors live every single day of their lives.

Moments pass. The rain continues its downpour. A flash of lightning sweeps across the skies. Akiyama finds a mirror hanging on the living room wall and inspects his wound. The cut has clotted, but the pain still persists. He sees his disheveled appearance and says a short prayer to himself, wishing the gods above will grant him good fortune in this time of peril.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a procession of female guards marching in a straight line toward the front entrance. A looming sense of dread suddenly fills Akiyama’s heart. He knows she’s coming for him. There’s absolutely no chance of escape. Whatever happens will happen. Akiyama will accept his fate no matter what transpires in these next moments.

An elegant flight of stairs in an old European castle.

The front door opens. It’s Queen Hippolyta, dressed in a scarlet red night robe and an elegant violet gemstone necklace hanging between her bountiful breasts. She closes the door. Her imposing frame struggles to fit through the small entrance. Akiyama can only stand still, completely frozen in time.

“So, boy. What is your name?”

“Akiyama.”

The Queen approaches him. Even from a distance, Akiyama can feel the intense heat rising from her powerful body. Her scent. Her presence. Her authority. Her muscles. All of it petrifies Akiyama with both fear and awe. He does not know how this will end, but he knows she has different intentions than whatever she implied earlier in the throne room.

“I am pleased that my army brought you to me. I did not expect my captured prisoner would be so…pleasing to the eye. Congratulations, Akiyama,” she says, wiping a drop of rainwater from her immaculate face. Akiyama’s breathing becomes more serene. He does not presently sense the degree of danger that he had felt before.

“Am I allowed to speak?”

She gives him a curt laugh. The Queen walks toward a sturdy oak table and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a sip and turns to face him, leaning her daunting body against the wall, right next to a painting of two Amazon warriors cutting off the penis of a captured enemy soldier.

“When we are alone in my castle, you are free to speak whenever you feel the urge to do so. When we are in front of my fighters, you must obey the proper protocol. From now on, you must address me as ‘my Queen.’ It’s how we must do things around here. Do you understand?” Akiyama nods his head. Queen Hippolyta appears to accept this response.

“Good. Then go with me to my bed chamber. Now.”

As she turns toward a staircase running along the center of the foyer, Akiyama boldly chooses to exercise his right to freely speak.

“What do you intend to do with me, my Queen?” She stops and finishes the rest of her wine. She sets the empty glass on a nearby bookshelf.

“I intend to enjoy your presence for as long as I wish. You will eventually meet your unavoidable demise, but before that happens, I must get what I want from your short time left on this Earth.” An ominous rumble of thunder rolls across the night sky. The castle, lit by candlelight, casts a spooky orange glow that makes Queen Hippolyta seem almost otherworldly in her appearance.

“I understand. You are the Queen, and I am your prisoner. Do with me what you will, my Queen.”

Queen Hippolyta, filled with untamed desire, sweeps toward her young prisoner and picks him up with her strong arms. Akiyama temporarily forgets his fear as he feels her bulging biceps press against his body. She kisses him on the lips and bites down on his tongue. He tastes blood as she removes her mouth from his. She feels no remorse whatsoever.

“I intend to, young boy.”

Holding him tightly, the Queen takes her prized possession with her and walks up the stairs toward her bed chamber.

To be continued.

A Female Muscle Fetish Isn’t as Complicated as You Might Think

The reason why Jill St. Laurent is gorgeous definitely isn't complicated. — The reason why Jill St. Laurent is gorgeous definitely isn’t complicated.

Sometimes in life, we tend to overthink things.

Nobody needs to spend twenty minutes thinking about which brand of hair coloring they need to buy. Or a whole hour organizing your wardrobe for the day. Or testing out twelve different fad diets only to discover that none of them actually work.

Overthinking things can be exhausting. It can waste your time, money, energy and faith in your own judgement. Don’t we all wish someone would have the good sense to knock us over the head and tell us this before it becomes a problematic obsession?

Yes, perhaps we do. But our tendency to overthink things can usually be remedied by following this general guideline: KISS.

Keep It Simple, Stupid.

In other words, sometimes the simplest explanations are the best. Occam’s Razor, anyone?

The same could be said about female muscle fetishism. We all have our own explanations as to why and how we got into female muscle. Everyone has their unique personal story. And the truth is, anecdotes can be remarkably insightful in explaining so much about our lives. For some, it was a single magazine cover that did it. For others, it was following the career of one specific female bodybuilder. Maybe you caught a glimpse on television of a female bodybuilding competition back in the good old days of the 1980s. Regardless, everyone remembers the time they “discovered” this amazing world and had their eyes opened to an aesthetic that transcends “traditional” standards of female beauty.

There are psychologists, sex experts and ordinary people everywhere who try to “explain away” the larger meaning of these personal stories. Do they reflect hidden insecurity? Or do they reveal latent homosexuality? Are guys who are into “muscle chicks” self-hating men? Do they secretly wish to be physically dominated by their girlfriends? Are they sexual deviants who need counseling? Is this a sign of obsessive behavior that can eventually consume his entire life?

Yikes. That got out of hand in a hurry. Perhaps not all of these stereotypes immediately come to mind when you learn a guy really digs strong women. But certainly these thoughts cross your mind at some level. If it does, don’t worry. Here’s something that will bring ultimate clarity to this situation.

We’re overthinking things. Maybe, just maybe, female muscle fetishism isn’t that complicated. It’s just a simple form of lust that’s inherent in all of us (or, almost all of us).

Hm. An interesting thought. So a guy who drools over the Ms. Olympia contestants is no different than a middle school boy who drools over the girls in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues? Well, I’ll be darned!

Remember when Pamela Anderson was strutting her stuff on Baywatch? The 90s were a glorious time, indeed.

Most of us guys know what we’re referring to. Face it. We all kept a hidden stash of dirty (or semi-dirty) magazines under our bed. Or old VHS tapes of cinematic sex scenes in the sock drawer. Or porn we printed off the computer when mom and dad were out of the house. Raise your hand if this described you when you were a lad of 14.

You can put your hands down now. Thank you for participating in this unscientific study.

Now turn the clock forward 10-25 years. You’re now a fully grown adult. You might be married, in a relationship, divorced, or single. It doesn’t matter. You’ve ditched the contraband magazines for more sophisticated resources. In the decades between your teen years and adulthood, you expanded your preferences to include beautiful women with more…bulk.

Yes, bulk. Adult women with more muscular development than the pop stars, movie starlets and celebrity socialites of yesteryear. Of course, you might still retain a faint nostalgic lust for these types of females, but you’ve moved on to bigger (emphasis on “bigger”) and better options. You prefer a brawnier look. You prefer fitness models, athletes and bodybuilders over silicone-enhanced Playboy bunnies, Photoshopped fashion models and Botox-injected Hollywood ingénues. So these new preferences can coexist with your old preferences. Expanding your horizons doesn’t mean shutting yourself off to the “old.” It means incorporating more things into the “new.”

So, with that in mind, what’s changed? Why is it considered socially normal for a teen boy with raging hormones to obsess over “mainstream” looking girls but it raises eyebrows when an adult man can’t stop fantasizing about being crushed between the legs of a female Olympic powerlifter?

Lust is, simply put, simple. Whatever floats your boat, right? Whether you’re into skinny women, rotund women, muscular women, skinny men, rotund men, muscular men, light skin, dark skin, tall, short, long hair, short hair, hairy legs, green eyes, tattoos, or whatever else you can think of, does it really matter? What does one’s preferences say about that person?

Uh, who knows and who cares?

But this is not meant to breed any kind of negativity. By and large, guys who dig muscular women are not a persecuted class by any stretch of the imagination. Not even close. That has never been a contention of myself or, to my knowledge, anyone else for that matter. But all the blatant misconceptions can get annoying after a while.

Taylor Smith is everything you could have asked for. EVERYTHING.

On a side note, if being annoyed is the worst thing any of us ever experience, then consider us to be lucky. Very lucky.

The real message is this: female muscle fetishism probably doesn’t have an explanation beyond simple carnal lust. The same lust we started to feel when we reached the age of puberty. Remember that adolescent madness we went through when those icky girls with cooties suddenly transformed into immaculate creatures of divine beauty? Yeah, of course you do. Remember when you first thought of female bodybuilders as gross, freaks of nature she-males who are disgusting to look at…but now you consider them to be Amazonian Goddesses of Higher Consciousness?

Same deal. We might be exaggerating a bit, but the basic idea should ring true. Human attraction isn’t that complicated. It’s what allows for human civilization to persist for generations upon generations. The “Circle of Life” stops the moment we find no reason to find a partner, copulate, reproduce and sow the seeds for the future of humanity. Lust is instrumental to the survival of our species. It can get us in trouble at times, but without it, none of us would be here today.

Some guys are into long legs. Other guys are into muscular legs. Some gentlemen prefer blondes. Other gentlemen prefer blondes with bulging biceps and a six-pack abdomen. Some men want to watch the world burn. Other men fantasize about a Powerful Muscle Goddess lighting the torch.

All of this is to say that not everything in life has a clear and clean explanation. Not every sexual kink has to be picked apart and analyzed like the stock market. Sometimes, it is what it is. That sounds boring and un-academic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the most prudent answer.

Nobody is denying that it can seem a bit odd for a guy to obsess over muscular women. Men are, theoretically speaking, the stronger sex. This is a role that has given us (both fairly and unfairly and with mixed results) dominance in the social sphere over our female counterparts. Who would want to abdicate that kind of power by allowing (even in a playful context) a woman to take on the “stronger sex” role? Wouldn’t guys feel intimidated by being in the presence of a muscular woman? Would that challenge his manhood? Would she attempt to challenge his manhood? What happens if he “loses?” Would this change his very identity? Why risk it in the first place?

Strong yet sexy, sturdy but feminine, striking yet accessible. Rita Sargo is all that.

But these questions might be completely irrelevant. In fact, one could argue they are all tone deaf to the reality of things. Female muscle fetishism most likely has nothing to do with gender roles, gender identity, self-esteem or even sexual orientation. It’s just one particular tool he has in his toolshed of lust, right next to the “Shy Catholic School Girl” and “Sexy Older Librarian Wearing a Skimpy French Maid Outfit” fetishes.

On a side note, I don’t know what a “Toolshed of Lust” would look like, but I can imagine the possibilities.

On second thought, let’s not!

In conclusion, I’ve discovered an irony in this whole essay. I could have simplified my thesis by merely stating:

A female muscle fetish isn’t as complicated as you might think.

Well, that’s sort of the title of this blog article. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in our modern age of Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and social media, it’s that our shrinking attention spans are making it so that all we have the time or the inclination to do is read the headline and be on our merry way. Nobody wants to read anymore. That takes effort that I could be using watching Netflix or ordering an overpriced caramel macchiato at the eight different Starbucks located across the street. But I digress, the actual point is that this whole 1,898 word (which, by the way, is an exact word count) essay isn’t really necessary to make my point.

Don’t overthink the concept of female muscle fetishism. You can, but you might be wasting your time. It’s not pointless or futile, but probably unnecessary. We do lots of things in life that are unnecessary. We put “lol” at the end of every text message despite the fact we didn’t actually laugh out loud. We say “just sayin’” after getting done saying something. Maybe overanalyzing certain sexual fetishes is a similar exercise in frivolity.

Some guys love muscle chicks. Why? They just do.

BAM.

Worship Me

Isabelle Turell demands to be worshiped.

Sweat drips off his face. On his knees, he looks up and can barely believe what his eyes are seeing. There she is, in all her immaculate glory. There she is, as perfect as he’d imagine her.

“May I…touch?” he asks.

She takes one step forward toward him. She extends her right arm and flexes her 18 inch bicep for him. He stops breathing, mesmerized by this powerfully erotic demonstration of strength. Her enormous muscles captivate him. He is a slave to her muscles. Strong as an ox, she extends her left arm and flexes her other 18 inch bicep. A smile creeps across her gorgeous face.

“Yes, dear. Touch to your heart’s delight,” she says.

He takes a deep breath and lightly brushes his fingers against her right bicep. Rock hard. Solid. Veiny. As big as a grapefruit. He feels her coarse skin and is rendered completely speechless. Never before in his life has he ever seen muscles this enormous on a woman. Never has he ever seen a woman who looks like this. He doubts he ever will again.

Dropping her arms, she turns to a side chest pose. Her barrel chest expands to superhuman proportions. Hardness forms in his pants. His breathing nearly stops for a second time.

“Do you like my body?”

Isn’t the answer to that obvious?

“Yes, ma’am. I love your body. Very much. It’s perfect.”

Every inch of her body is covered in huge, ripped muscles. Not a single centimeter of her body is flat, flabby or weak. Strength, supremacy and feminine grace exudes from her entire being. Power, control, authority, beauty, all of it. There has never been anyone like her on this planet before.

“Thank you. What part of my body do you like the most?”

I want to touch the shoulders of Arti Sharma Lopes!

His hands greedily rub her thick thighs. She wiggles her quad from left to right, confidently showing off her incredible muscle control. His attention moves to her hard calves, which particularly stand out when wearing these sparkly blue stiletto heels.

“Everything, ma’am. I love everything. But if I had to choose one part…” he begins, standing on his feet and facing her directly, “I’d have to choose your shoulders. Wow. So perfectly rounded.”

He caresses her shoulders with finesse. Not wanting to be treated like such a delicate flower, she grabs his hands and brings them close to her chest. Her eyes become serious. He has no idea how to react.

“Don’t touch me like I’m a special piece of art. I’m a woman. A strong, beautiful woman who’s very fucking proud of her body. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to get this body. Lifting, hardcore dieting, drinking gallons of water every day, the soreness, the pain, the misery, the loneliness of cooking and working out and resting day after day after fucking day…so don’t treat me like I’m your girlfriend. I’m not your fucking girlfriend, am I?”

The only response he could give is to nod his head in agreement. Would that please her?

“Good. I’m glad we can agree on that. Remove my bikini top, please.”

Instantaneously, he follows orders and unties her bikini bra strap. It drifts to the floor and lands silently. He looks down and sees her pair of small, shrunken breasts with unbelievably stiff, one-inch long nipples. He pinches them lightly and hears a faint moan escape from her throat.

“Ooh, that’s more like it. I like it when you touch me like that. I punish my body every single day to get it to look this way. I want you to reward my hard work by giving me all the pleasure I deserve.”

The impeccably chiseled physique of Desiree Ellis.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am,” he promises.

Her nipples grow harder and harder. Could they be an inch and a half long? He cups her breasts and squeezes them playfully. Then he moves on to her six-pack abs, trailing his fingers between the chiseled grooves of her abdomen. Another moan is heard from her.

“Let’s get on the bed, darling. Follow me,” she commands.

Kicking off her heels, he hears them plop on top of the hardwood floor. But that’s about furthest thing from his attention. His focus is completely on her. What does she plan to do next? He could only wait and see. She lies on the bed and spreads her legs wide. He sees a substantial bulge in her panties. What could that be? Is that what he thinks it is?

“Take off my bottom. Now!”

Quickly, he gets down on his knees and unties both sides of her bikini bottom. He listens to her heavy breathing as the last piece of clothing is removed from her divine body. She takes her panties and tosses them aside. His eyes fixate on her engorged clitoris protruding out between her legs.

Oh. My. Fucking. GOD!!!!!

At least three inches long, her massive phallic-like clitoris proudly stands at attention right in front of his face. She notices his shock and laughs out loud. Her deep rumbling laugh reverberates throughout the room. His jaw drops. His heartbeat skyrockets. There is no other reaction he can give other than remaining frozen in sheer astonishment.

“Is that what I think it is?” he meekly asks.

“Find out for yourself, honey. Go ahead. Explore what I have down there.”

Taking this as his cue to proceed, he opens his mouth and lowers it onto her gorgeous clit. He begins to suck it as hard as he can. She groans in pleasurable response. He cannot believe the amount of flesh she has between her long strong legs. But he ceases to think and continues to suck on her, using his tongue to lap her sensitive tip. Her senses go into overdrive. She’s wanted a man to do this to her for a very long time. She’s glad it got to be him. She’s glad she could give him this opportunity.

Meanwhile, he strokes her thighs and feels them twitch. He traces his thumb across a long vein going down her left hamstring. He knows he will never be able to be with a woman like her ever again, so he’s doing all he can to soak up the experience.

She feels her climax building. She knows she’s close. Does he also know? He’ll soon find out…

Finally, she comes. Her breathing intensifies. He sticks his finger inside her vagina and feels her walls contracting around him. Very wet down there, he observes. His erection is going to burst out of his underwear at any moment. When her orgasm subsides, she closes her legs and rolls onto her side. She is out of breath. She is pleased. She is happy. But she is far from satisfied.

Far, far from it!

Moments pass before she sits up on the bed. With fire in her eyes, she leaps up and tackles him to the ground. He helplessly falls backward. Impulsively, she rips off his clothes until he too is completely naked. His arousal multiplies. He loves that she’s taking control. He does nothing to resist.

Melissa Dettwiller in a cute yellow bikini.

Now that both of them are naked, they take some time to observe each other. Clearly, she is physically superior to him in every conceivable way. He is no match for her. Her huge, muscular body is a sight he will never forget. Her arms, shoulders, chest, back, legs, butt and abdomen are carved to perfection. An ancient Greek sculptor could not have created a more physically beautiful and dominant female form. She is the culmination of generations and generations of human biological development. She is the epitome of Woman. The world will never be able to appreciate her like he can.

“Thank you for giving me pleasure, my dear.”

“You’re welcome. I loved sucking on your beautiful clit. It’s so big, ma’am.”

“Yes, it’s very big. Very fucking big. Have you ever seen a clit that big before?” she asks. He shakes his head “no.” She smiles.

“I didn’t think so. Now, I’d like to return the favor and give you pleasure in the same way you gave me pleasure. Would you like that?” she inquires. He nods his head “yes.” Her gaze deepens. Is she looking into his soul?

“But before we do that,” she begins, walking toward the dresser drawer and opening it, “you have to do something for me first.”

He cranes his neck to see what she’s doing. She pulls a piece of cloth out of the drawer and closes it. She turns toward him and walks slowly, playing with the dark cloth in her hands.

“What is it?” he asks.

She comes to him and wraps the makeshift blindfold across his eyes. He gasps. She giggles. She tightens the black cloth around his head and kisses him passionately on the lips. The sudden kiss steals his breath. There is nothing he can do to stop whatever is about to happen next. She leans over and whispers this simple message into his ear:

“Worship me.”

The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode Four – Double Dare (part one of two)

“Fuck me, Max.”

Max blinks. The margarita he’s drinking almost comes out of his nose.

“Wait, what? What did you say, Marie?”

“You heard me, Max. Fuck me. Right now,” Marie whispers in his ear. She reaches down and caresses his thigh suggestively.

Max is in what you might call “paradise,” which is lying on a white sandy beach in Cabo San Lucas next to a gorgeous female bodybuilder. Marie, who was born and raised in New York City, is a 47-year-old competitive bodybuilder on vacation alone down here in Mexico. Max is lucky enough to be experiencing the same pleasure, as well as the pleasure of taking two weeks off from work.

But what makes Max even luckier is running into Marie, whom he struck up a deep conversation with at a bar the previous night. Max was sitting all alone sipping his beer. She walked in and lit up the entire joint. Heaven knows why she randomly decided to sit at his table when she had hundreds of other social options available to her. She said he looked “lonely and in need of some female companionship.”

How correct she was!

As fate would have it, Marie has chosen Max to be her companion for the remainder of her vacation.

“You can’t be serious,” Max pleads.

Marie snuggles closer to him and playfully nibbles on his ear. She tickles his kneecap. He flinches. Goosebumps race up his skin from head to toe. Wearing a white g-string bikini that leaves nearly nothing to the imagination, Marie is a spectacle of divine proportions. Not too many 47-year-old women can make men ages 10 to 90 turn their heads and stare shamelessly…but she can. She has that kind of power.

Marie has the awesome muscularity of Denise Hoshor... — Marie has the awesome muscularity of Denise Hoshor…

“I’m as serious as can be. What say you?” Her hot breath against his tanning skin nearly makes his heart stop beating.

“Uh, well, look around us!” Max gazes around at the crowded beach full of hundreds of people. Mostly tourists, with the vast majority of them American citizens on vacation. They were in a very public place during this early afternoon. The blazing sun’s oppressive heat is thankfully counterbalanced by a cool Pacific Ocean breeze.

Marie also inspects her surroundings. She is well aware there are tons of people; young and old, male and female, couples, friends, family members, people from every corner of the world; of all shapes and sizes enjoying this majestic day at the beach. She knows that. She’s also very aware that everyone around them is watching them. How often do you see a scrawny Asian guy hanging out intimately with a gorgeous female bodybuilder?

“I know what’s around us. Lots and lots of people. But wouldn’t it be fun…” she begins, moving her hands closer to Max’s engorged manhood, “…to do it in front of all these people?”

Max feels his heart skip a beat the moment Marie’s strong grip reaches over his swim trunks. His arousal is clearly evident, the bulge of his erection obvious for everyone to see. Enjoying the power she has over him, Marie continues her naughty behavior by whispering into his ear:

“If we make love right here, right now…I’ll allow you to dare me to do anything later.”

“Are you suggesting we do some kind of…double dare?” Max asks. Trepidation filling his voice, he starts to notice the people around him listening in on their conversation. Their ears perked up and their heads glancing in their direction, Max and Marie have captured the attention of at least a half a dozen people.

...combined with the gorgeous good looks of Emery Miller. — …combined with the gorgeous good looks of Emery Miller.

“Yes, a double dare. I dare you to fuck me in public at this very moment, and in return I’ll let you dare me to do anything you want afterward.” A wicked smile flashes across her beautiful face. Marie’s chiseled body looks so perfect, so powerful, so sexy. Max can hardly contain himself. He knows this will attract an audience, but at this point the Voice of Reason inside his head has taken a vacation as well.

What’s the harm?

“But, we don’t have protection. I didn’t bring anything,” Max says.

She giggles. Her deep husky voice produces an equally gravelly laugh that makes the hairs on the back of Max’s head stand up at attention.

“We don’t need protection. That’ll make us even naughtier!” Marie says, uncaring if anyone is listening. Max gets the feeling she wants people to listen and watch!

“I don’t know…” Max’s voice trails off. By now ten or twelve people, mostly couples in their 20s and 30s, are watching them and waiting for what’s going to happen next. They aren’t trying to hide their interest anymore. They want to know what Max chooses to do. The couple closest to them, who are young and attractive as supermodels, are snuggling and whispering to each other fervently – perhaps plotting something similar. Other couples are just laying back and intently watching the drama unfold.

“Come on! Be a man, Max. I chose to be with you because you’re different. You’re kind, you’re quiet and you don’t seem to be a jerk. Don’t make me regret my decision to be with you.”

Her challenge is all what Max needed. He hears enough degrading remarks about his masculinity back home. It’s time to show all these people what he’s really made of!

“You asked for it. Now you’re going to receive it! Turn to your other side, Marie.”

Marie, with fire in her eyes, obeys. She turns to her other side, with Max now behind her. Marie feels wetness between her legs starting to develop. Max pulls her bikini bottom to the side and slaps her finely rounded butt. She gasps. By now everyone around them is watching unapologetically. Max realizes he has an audience and refuses to disappoint them.

Max tugs at his swim trunks and pulls them down, exposing his bare butt to at least eight or nine people. He doesn’t care at all. Freeing his erection, he spits on his fingers and reaches over to rub Marie’s vagina. It’s already dripping wet. Her enlarged clitoris is hot and sensitive. He knows she’s already ready for him.

“Oh, God…Max…do it! I’m ready,” Marie begs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In one swift move, Max pushes his penis inside her from behind. A small round of applause erupts from a couple sitting on lawn chairs behind them. Marie moans. Max grunts, pushing his manhood completely inside her. She flexes her right bicep for him in response. He caresses her bicep greedily, wanting to feel every muscle fiber she’s flexing for him.

He starts to stroke his penis in and out of her, at first slowly and then a little faster. A faint moan escapes from Marie’s throat. She lowers her right arm and bends her head forward. Max leans over and kisses the back of her neck. He licks her, wanting to taste her. Her salty skin tastes as sweet as anything he’s ever tasted before. Max ignores their growing audience but can’t help but notice a bunch of camera phones quickly taking pictures of them.

“God, Max! Mmmmm….”

A groan comes out of Max as he continues to pump into her. No protection, hardly any time to get to know each other, a large audience of 20 or 30 people, gossipy whispers, camera phones snapping illicit photos, broken public decency laws, the sight of a young Asian guy making love to an older female bodybuilder – all these taboos are further turning them on. It’s fueling their desire for each other.

Marie reaches down and grabs Max’s left hand and places it across her swollen clitoris. He gets the hint and begins to lightly stroke it, adding to her pleasure. Max’s right hand cups Marie’s small left breast. Marie has refused to get plastic surgery and defiantly allowed her breasts to shrink in size as her bodybuilding career took off. He doesn’t mind her smallness.

The supermodel couple decides they want to join the fun. They are now making love. A single woman in her early 30s starts to masturbate with her fingers. She doesn’t appear to be with anyone but doesn’t let that get in her way of pleasing herself in this moment.

Max’s strokes inside Marie reaches a steady rhythm. Marie gasps as she orgasms from Max fondling her clit. She is close to coming again from his penis pounding into her. The couple sitting on lawn chairs is now making love too, with her straddling him cowgirl-style as he plays with her breasts.

What began as a simple double dare has now emerged as a full-out impromptu group orgy!

A large crowd surrounds them. But Max and Marie are on a different wave length than the rest and pay no attention to the outside world.

“I’m going to come Max! I’m going to…”

After one last powerful thrust, Max and Marie poetically climax at the same time. Marie lets out an uninhibited scream. Max moans loudly as he spills his semen into her. A raucous round of applause erupts from the masses. The supermodel couple climaxes, then the lawn chair couple follows suit. He ejaculates all over her belly as she falls backward into the sand. The single woman climaxes herself, allowing a small squirt to escape from her vagina. She collapses on her back exhausted and dripping with sweat.

The crowd continues to cheer. Marie turns around and kisses Max deeply. She tickles Max’s penis. He pinches her nipples in return.

After a while, Max and Marie return from Cloud 9 and finally notice the enormous crowd. The number of witnesses to this small orgy is striking. But not a single participant felt any ounce of guilt or embarrassment. In fact, everyone was proud they got to be a part of it.

Marie stands and pulls her bikini bottom back up. Max also stands and readjusts his swim trunks. More clapping bursts forth from the crowd. Max and Marie hold hands and “bow” to their audience like two seasoned Las Vegas magicians paying homage to their loyal fans.

Minutes later the new celebrity couple walks hand-in-hand along the beach aimlessly. Everyone has dispersed by now and gone back to minding their own business. A sense of triumph is felt by both of them.

“Did that just happen?” Max asks.

“Yes, it did. Wasn’t that beautiful?” Marie answers.

“Yes, it was.” He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. She caresses his back in return.

No one speaks for several moments. Marie decides to break the romantic silence.

“I can’t wait to hear what dare you have in store for me!” Marie chuckles.

Max thinks for a moment.

“I think I have something pretty scandalous in mind…”