Tag: female muscle

Educating Jonathan – Part Six

Two hungry tigers stalking their prey.
Two hungry tigers stalking their prey.

Two hungry tigers loom in the distance, meticulously stalking their prey. A wounded animal lies on the grass, unable to move and paralyzed with fear. The animal knows its time on Earth is short. He senses his imminent death. Too many times in his life he’s witnessed small creatures like himself helplessly stave off death for as long as possible, only to be disappointed at the end.

Nature is a cruel place. The strong will inevitably triumph over the weak. There is no feeling of injustice or bitterness, however. This is a fact of life. This is how it is. This is how it’s always been. From the beginning of civilization to this present moment, the strong always find a way to destroy the feeble. Even if he could change things, the wounded animal would choose not to and let the course of history continue uninterrupted.

The tigers come closer. He hears a rattling in the bushes. The animal looks down at his bloodied torso and notices his legs are missing. They’re probably hundreds of yards away, being chewed on by vultures with little thought to who they belong to. The vultures don’t care. The tigers don’t care. Even his family doesn’t care. They’ve accepted the fact one of their own will be eaten soon. They secretly wish they aren’t next.

The time has come. The tigers jump on the wounded animal. They tear him piece by piece in the most savage way possible. There is no such thing as a dignified death in the Jungle. Any death is treated the same way. It just happens. Fortunately for those who are strong enough to survive, they don’t have to experience the agonizing pain that comes with death. They can sit back and watch with nihilistic pleasure.

With his dying breath, the wounded animal cries out in pain. It’s a useless expression of suffering, one that will not deter the two tigers from carrying out future massacres. But it’s all he can do. What else is left?

What a beautiful fucking world we live in.

Jonathan opens his eyes and instantly forgets what he was dreaming about. Something about two tigers eating a hapless meerkat? Or was it something more pleasant? No matter. That’s irrelevant right now. He sits up, stretches, and takes notice of how sore he is. That’s what he gets from sleeping on a cold, hard wood floor. The room is still dark. There is no sunlight anywhere to be seen. Silence permeates everywhere. Normally, he’d feel at peace right now. But not today.

Fuck. It wasn’t a dream. Last night wasn’t a nightmare. It’s reality. It’s really real. It happened exactly as he remembers it. And he is powerless to make any of it go away.

He looks behind him and sees Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu cuddled together on the floor. They are also sleeping. Jonathan doesn’t know exactly when they fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been much longer after he did. They were all tired. Physically and emotionally exhausted. How could you not be after experiencing all that?

A pounding on the steel door wakes up everybody. Jonathan leaps to his feet. Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu open their weary eyes and take a look at their surroundings. They too also wish the events of last night never occurred. They are both sorely disappointed.

Breakfast of champions.
Breakfast of champions.

The Short Man enters the room with two of his henchmen. They appear to be still dressed in the same black clothing as the night before. One of the men carries in a pot of coffee. The other has a plastic tray full of bagels, doughnuts, fruit, and pastries. Well, at least these bastards are courteous enough to bring their hostages breakfast.

“Good morning. Or perhaps, I should say good afternoon. It’s a quarter past noon. We let you sleep for a pretty long time,” the Short Man says. “You should thank us.”

The two men place the food and coffee on the carpenter’s table. The third man is still standing outside. Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu get on their feet and glare at the Short Man.

“Go fuck yourself,” Dr. Sammy says. The Short Man gives Jonathan a quick look. Jonathan doesn’t know how to react.

“Women can be so erratic at times, am I right Jonathan?” Upon hearing his captor say his name out loud for the first time, Jonathan refuses to acknowledge his presence. In fact, he agrees that he should go fuck himself. It’s the only thing he could do right.

“Oh well. I don’t exactly expect politeness from any of you. If the situations were reversed, I’d probably say some pretty uncomplimentary things as well,” he says. “As you can see, we’ve brought you breakfast. Don’t worry. Nothing is poisoned. You’re worth more to me alive than dead. So chow down. Enjoy your lunch.”

Nobody moves from their spot.

“Have you heard from my husband? What did he say?” Dr. Sammy asks.

“He said he’s willing to be cooperative. Which bodes well for the rest of you. Soon, we’ll have what we want and you three will be allowed to continue your lives free of danger from us. Sound good?” The Short Man motions for the two henchmen to leave. They promptly exit the room and walk upstairs. Jonathan notices a side door in the hallway that he did not see the previous night.

“Matthew agreed to do what you want him to do?”

“Yes, he did.” The Short Man takes out a cigarette and lights it. He blows a small puff of smoke toward Jonathan’s direction. “I also spoke with my Boss. He’s a very reasonable man. I told him that our kidnapping plot is going just as we planned. He sounded happy. But he also had a hint of intrigue in his voice. I didn’t know why, but now I do.”

The Short Man pauses for dramatic effect. Jonathan’s stomach growls with hunger, but he does his best to get his mind off of food.

“I told him we unexpectedly took two additional hostages. He was okay with that, but mostly wanted to make sure we had the wife in our possession,” he says, puffing more smoke out of his mouth. “However, our Boss decided to call us again this morning. Part of the reason why I’m here is to deliver to you your coffee and munchies. Nobody ever goes hungry under my watch. But…I’ve come here for another reason.”

“And what reason is that?” Mistress Nguvu asks. She takes a bold step forward. The Short Man doesn’t flinch. The man standing guard outside the door doesn’t reach for his gun. They both know the three hostages are smart enough to not do anything foolish.

“The reason involves you two.” The Short Man points at both Jonathan and the Mistress. “My Boss is particularly interested in you two. He wants to learn more. I don’t know exactly why, but I can assure you only positive outcomes will result from all of this. For him, of course. Follow me, please.”

The Short Man turns around and walks out the door. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu look at each other. Then they look at Dr. Samantha. She nods her head, silently telling them to follow the Short Man to whatever fate lies ahead. Reluctantly, Jonathan and the Mistress walk out the door. The guard shuts it behind them, locking Dr. Sammy in all alone.

Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu walk up a short flight of stairs. Upstairs, the Short Man and his two cohorts have set up camp in a spacious lounge area. Peach yellow wallpaper adorns the room. Like all the other rooms in this God-forsaken building, it is sparsely decorated. Hostage-takers apparently have no interior decorating taste.

The Short Man is talking to someone through a laptop computer. Skype, perhaps? Or a different web communication platform used by shadowy global terrorists?

“Here they are, sir. Both of them. I’ll turn around my computer so you can take a good look at them.” The Short Man rotates his computer so Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu can see who is on the screen. It is an older Mediterranean-looking man with silver hair, a trim beard, dark eyes, and an impeccable tan. When he finally is able to see the two hostages standing in front of him, his eyes widen with sudden and irrepressible lust.

“Oh my fucking God. Ma’am, may I ask you a question?” Mistress Nguvu sighs and nods her head in agreement. The Boss squeals in delight. “How big are you?”

“I’m six foot four.”

The Boss’s eyes widen even more, as if that were even possible. “Delightful! And how much do you weigh? I realize that’s a personal question to ask, but I’m sure you’d be thrilled to inform me!”

“I weight about two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Wow! Six-four, two hundred and fifty pounds. You are a big girl. I love it. Fuck. Look at you! You have so much muscle from head to toe. Stand back a little, darling.” Annoyed at his patronizing tone, Mistress Nguvu takes a giant step backward. The Boss giggles when he sees more of the Mistress’s muscular body. “I love it! Now, you. Boy. Take step toward me, please.”

Jonathan’s heartrate jumps. He does as he’s told. “You also look like you work out, my boy. Do you?”

“Yes, I do. I’m no bodybuilder, unlike the Mistress here, but I do what I can to look good.”

“Ooh, yes. You do, indeed. Alright. Both of you, get naked. Now! Strip all your clothes for me.” Jonathan and the Mistress stay still. One of the henchmen takes out his gun and points it at their direction. This inspires them to get started. As Jonathan and Nguvu remove all their clothing, they can hear the Boss moaning with delight, as if he were masturbating while watching them strip. Mistress Nguvu drops her corset, panties, and bra to the floor. Jonathan kicks his shirt, gym shorts, and underwear to the side. They stare directly at the computer screen and see exactly what they suspected they were hearing. The Boss is in fact masturbating.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Nobody can see it, but the Boss is clearly jerking himself off at the sight of these two naked people standing before him. Jonathan turns his head away in disgust. He sees Mistress Nguvu’s naked muscular body and quickly becomes distracted by it. Tall, thick, angular, curvy in all the right places, Jonathan notices two remarkable features of her divine body: Hard black nipples that stick out nearly a full inch and a breathtaking clitoris that extends more than three inches outward. Even the Short Man and the henchmen cannot help but stare at Nguvu’s incredible features. The sight of her jaw-dropping feminine endowment gives Jonathan a slight erection. His penis coming to life is enough to send the Boss over the edge.

“Motherfucker! FUCK!!!”

The Boss comes, groaning as he ejaculates all over himself. Thankfully, nobody in the room can see what that looks like. The Short Man turns away, not wanting to witness any of this. The two henchmen are weirded out, but try to remain calm and professional. They do not want to anger their Boss in anyway. The consequences of that would be disastrous.

Slay me, Alana Shipp!
Slay me, Alana Shipp!

“Oooooh, yes. Oh baby. That’s what I like. Jerry!” The Short Man, whose name is apparently Jerry, regains his composure and leans toward the computer’s microphone.

“Yes, sir?”

“At first I was pissed off that you decided to take two extra hostages. But now I see you made the right decision. Call it fate or good luck, but I want to personally meet these two. Send them to the airport immediately. I will order a private jet to transport them to my home. Do it NOW!” The Boss turns off the web chat and the screen goes dark. The man with the gun lowers his weapon and puts it back in his jacket. Jerry takes a deep breath and tries to think of a contingency plan. Transporting two of his hostages to the airport was not part of his original plan. That means his team has to split up. One has to stay here to watch over Dr. Samantha and the others have to escort the other two to a different destination.

Fuck. But if the Boss says this must be done, then it must be done. Jerry and his crew are accustomed to adjusting their plans on the fly, but that doesn’t mean they have to like it.

“Wow. Well, you heard the man. Let’s get going,” Jerry says. “Get dressed. Now.”

Ten minutes later, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu are escorted back to the dark red SUV. As they pass the door where they were locked up for the night, Nguvu stops and looks at it. She wants to say something to Dr. Samantha. She wants to assure her she and Jonathan will be alright. She wants her to know they’ll both be safe. One of the henchmen grabs Nguvu’s broad shoulders and nudges her toward the parking garage. Jonathan doesn’t offer any resistance.

He thinks about Dr. Samantha too, but doesn’t feel any urge to speak to her. Somehow, for whatever inexplicable reason, he senses she’ll be just fine. Her husband will deliver the x-ray machine and she’ll be secure in his arms soon after. Yes, these people will turn it into a radioactive bomb, but Jonathan doesn’t have the inclination right now to think about that. He still wants to know why the Boss wants to see both he and the Mistress so badly.

Like the ride over to the mystery building, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu are forced to wear blindfolds. They even put it on themselves. Two hours later, Jonathan can hear the sounds of airplanes landing and taking off for flight. The airport is obviously nearby.

Soon, the SUV stops and the driver shuts off the ignition. A voice instructs them to get out of the car. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu do as they’re told.

One of the henchmen grabs the blindfolds and hands them to Jerry. The Short Man puts them in his inner coat pocket.

“We’re here. I have no fucking idea why the Boss wants to personally see you two, but for whatever shitty reason he does. Enjoy the flight, fuckers.” Jonathan and Nguvu struggle to adjust their eyes to broad daylight. A few moments later, they peer upwards at a small white twin engine jet. There are no logos anywhere to be seen. A short Hispanic woman walks out of the plane and greets her passengers.

“Good day to you both. If you’ll please follow me inside, our flight will take off as soon as possible. The weather looks fabulous, so I fully expect us to be able to leave without too long of a wait.” Wearing a professional flight stewardess’s outfit, the woman goes back inside the plane. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu look back at Jerry and his henchmen. They stare right back at them, urging them to board the jet. The two passengers walk up the stairs with no questions asked. The Hispanic woman shuts the door behind them.

“Sit anywhere you like. The Boss will be pleased to see you both. He’s very excited about this meeting. If you need anything from me, just push the green button next to your seats,” the short woman says. “I’ll be by with snacks and drinks shortly after we cruise to 30,000 feet.”

A private white jet preparing for takeoff.
A private white jet preparing for takeoff.

Still in a daze that hasn’t left since last night, Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu choose random seats and sit down. They buckle their seatbelts and stare out the window. Jerry and his henchmen have already driven off. A faint cloud of exhaust is the only indication of their presence at this airstrip.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Jonathan asks the stewardess. She turns around.

“Yes?”

“How long is this flight, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Nguvu leans forward to hear her answer. The engines start to rumble. The stewardess is right. They do plan to take off right away.

“If we leave immediately, we should be able to get to our destination in nine hours,” she says. “The Caribbean islands are pretty far away, after all.”

The stewardess leaves. Jonathan and Mistress Nguvu can do nothing but sit there in stunned silence. Before either of them could blink, the jet slowly starts to move forward and within minutes they begin their ascent.

You Don’t Have to Like Every Female Bodybuilder

Who doesn't like Cindy Landolt?
Who doesn’t like Cindy Landolt?

There’s a strange misconception out there that people who like female bodybuilders are “into” every single female bodybuilder in existence.

I’d venture a guess and say that a lot of us appreciate most muscular women, but not all. Thanks to the Internet and social media, FBBs can promote themselves in ways that were unimaginable twenty years ago. Today, a muscular woman with a prominent number of followers can post a picture of herself on Instagram (at no cost) and immediately have tens of thousands of people see it within minutes. Wow. Not even ten years ago was this possible. What a time we live in.

Because of this, we are exposed to thousands of women of all shapes and sizes who gladly post photos of themselves at little to no cost to the consumer. Celebrities, singers, models (and wannabe models), politicians, athletes, and the like are out there for our prying eyes to witness. Without social media, do any of us think Kim Kardashian would be nearly as popular as she is today? Maybe so, but her Q Score would not be nearly as high.

What exactly is a Q Score? It’s a metric that measures the familiarity and appeal of a brand, celebrity or company based on a panel of judges pulled from the general population. Obviously, people like Leonardo DiCaprio and Katy Perry have extremely high Q Scores. For the general population, Lisa Cross and Debi Laszewski do not have high Q Scores. However, among female muscle fanatics, these ladies are off the charts. But sadly, not everyone appreciates strong muscular women like some of us do.

Due to this fairly low profile, many people in society tend to group all muscular women into one singular cluster. They’re the big, brawny she-males you see with gross looking faces, man-like muscles, and excessive body hair in places where hair shouldn’t exist. We all know this stereotype exists. To be fair, there are some female bodybuilders who do (to an extent) fit this profile. But there are plenty out there who do not. There are lots of female bodybuilders who are just as “feminine” as any “normal” woman.

Wake up! Victoria Dominguez says it's time for school.
Wake up! Victoria Dominguez says it’s time for school.

Perhaps that’s the key. People who do not like FBBs look at one or two and think that’s how they all are. So when they find out that someone they know really digs women with muscles, they automatically conjure up in their minds all the negative stereotypes they’ve previously held about female bodybuilders. No matter how much you insist your attraction to them is completely normal, preconceived notions can be hard to break.

One can like muscular women without liking all muscular women. Yes, this is possible. Just like it’s possible to love Japanese food but at the same time despise wasabi, female muscle fandom isn’t an “all or nothing” proposition. We all have discriminatory tastes, even when it comes to strong women.

So the lesson to be learned is simple. You don’t have to like every female bodybuilder. You should respect every single female bodybuilder on planet Earth (unless they’ve done something in their lives that you find morally objectionable), but that’s a given. But it’s perfectly fine to be attracted to some but not to others. It’s socially acceptable to find certain personality traits desirable and others repulsive. Beauty is, as the age-old cliché goes, in the eye of the beholder.

My preferences are quite pointed in the direction of Sheila Bleck.
My preferences are quite pointed in the direction of Sheila Bleck.

But of course, it’s not that simple. I understand why some of us get defensive about our beloved FBBs, even if we ourselves don’t particular like some of them. I once tried to set up a muscle worship session with an FBB who, for reasons I still cannot figure out, was supremely rude to me. I think there was some miscommunication going on between us, but regardless I felt like she could have handled matters better. Nevertheless, I don’t judge every single FBB as being difficult to deal with just because I had one negative experience. If anything, I might give them the benefit of the doubt because of how much I love and respect them. So there’s that.

For many FBB fans, to admit that you don’t find all FBBs attractive is to open the door toward legitimizing hateful criticisms of these women. That’s why a lot of (or maybe most) social movements tend to view the world in black and white terms. There are absolutely evil people out there and absolutely pure and virtuous people as well. If you’re sympathetic to folks in the latter category, you might be more inclined to overlook their flaws because you don’t want to provide unwanted ammunition to those so-called “evil people” who don’t happen to like “your people” as much as you do. I won’t get into specifics (in order to avoid a shouting match in the comments section), but hopefully you understand where I’m going with this.

This is why I won’t say anything negative about any particular FBB. I won’t even mention the name of the person I just referred to earlier. Heck, I don’t even reveal the identity of the women I write about in positive terms! Maybe I’m being a little too overprotective. Whatever. It’s better to be safe than sorry, I say.

All of this is to say that we’re allowed to have different preferences. Personal choice is an inalienable human right. If you prefer slimmer, “toned” women as opposed to bigger bodybuilders, that’s okay. If you are genuinely disgusted by the large female bodybuilders who compete in the heavyweight category but you get uncontrollably turned on by the “athletic look” instead, I’m not one to judge. There’s plenty of room in the Beautiful Strong Women Lovefest Train. All aboard! Choo, choo!

Cute pink dress, Tarna Alderman.
Cute pink dress, Tarna Alderman.

So in your own minds, you can like or dislike whatever you choose to like or dislike. I will never tell you that you’re wrong. I can tell you that you’re misguided or blinded by prejudice, but that’s not the same thing as “calling out” someone for being in the wrong. However, in the public sphere, I totally get why you tend to get defensive whenever some random Internet troll decides to defame the good names of Shannon Courtney or Danielle Reardon. I’d probably react in the same way, to be perfectly honest.

But I don’t, generally speaking. I don’t have the time nor the inclination to respond to trolls or skeptics. Or people who aren’t trying to start an argument but say something derogatory about a muscular woman anyway. Nah, life is too short to deal with that kind of commotion. I accept the fact (tacitly, perhaps) that not everyone will accept the unique beauty of a muscular woman into the “mainstream” of society. That’s probably not going to happen anytime soon, for that matter. But that’s not a huge tragedy either. There are enough fans like us who adore these women that an aspiring female bodybuilder will never feel unappreciated. Mainstream culture may not completely embrace them, but there are lots of subcultures who will. I realize the word “subculture” tends to carry deviant connotations, but that’s not actually the case. There are countless subcultures in our world. Almost in a literal sense, countless. Many of them are more prevalent than we think. It’s not just talked about. I sincerely believe female muscle fandom is one of them.

Take this message to heart, female muscle supporters out there in the wide, wide world. You don’t have to like every muscular woman you happen to come across on the Internet. Some of you like big beefy bodybuilders. Others of you like smaller, figure competitors. There are folks whose cup of tea is beautiful, feminine athletic women with curves in all the right places. And believe it or not, there are people in this world who really love “normal” looking women who can display feats of strength (either real or pretend) when called upon to do so.

Our fandom stretches across a wide spectrum. I am in no position to say what a “real” female muscle enthusiast is supposed to like or dislike. There are no “real” FBB fans just as there are no “fake” FBB fans. What tears apart fandom culture – whether we’re talking about comic books or punk rock – is infighting from within. This is why I don’t really spend a whole lot of time browsing and posting on female muscle-related forums. I am not against anyone who does, but that sort of thing isn’t for me.

Life is too short to deal with unnecessary negativity.

This isn’t to say that this sort of infighting is common. I have no clue if it is or not. This is also to dispel the myth that people like us who appreciate strong women are unequivocally head-over-heels attracted to all strong women. Everyone has different tastes, which is perfectly fine. Personally, my appreciation range is quite wide. I still get distracted by the cute girl at the gym just as I am by photos of Lindsay Mulinazzi that randomly pop into my Facebook feed. I’m fairly open-minded in that respect. You certainly don’t have to be, but it never hurts!

Do you like the vascular look of Cris Goy Arellano?
Do you like the vascular look of Cris Goy Arellano?

Here’s a message for female muscle skeptics out there: You don’t need to find the most grotesque photo of a female bodybuilder who has abused steroids for far too long and shove it in our faces and ask us incessantly, “So, do you like THIS?” That’s unfair. That’s mean spirited. It’s okay for us to say “no” and not be a “sell out” toward the Female Muscle Cause. I’ll be honest here. There ARE a handful of FBBs in this world that I don’t particularly think are attractive. Yes, a few actually disgust me. But that doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. I’m still a committed female muscle fan through and through. My Female Muscle Fan membership card won’t be revoked.

Personal choice. It’s what makes us autonomous human beings. It’s what makes us flawed, but it’s what makes us who we are as people. We have the right to choose what we like and don’t like, what we think is beautiful and what we find to be ugly, what our favorites are and what we’d rather not have to deal with if we can. It all boils down to personal choice.

Thanks to the Internet, we’re exposed to beautiful women of all shapes and sizes. In an age that celebrates diversity and opens the doors to anyone to publicly express themselves, we have more freedom to choose what we want to be into and what we don’t want to be into. There are lots of beautiful women out there. Don’t put any of them into a box. Nor us.

What a time we live in, indeed.

An Evening with a Beautiful Blonde Amazon

None of these photos are of Blonde Amazon herself, but they represent her in different ways. Beautiful legs, indeed!
None of these photos are of Blonde Amazon herself, but they represent her in different ways. Beautiful legs, indeed!

A frequent request I receive from readers is to describe more of my experiences doing muscle worship sessions with female bodybuilders. My previous five-part retelling of my first ever session (nearly three years ago!) still garners a tremendous amount of page views to this day, so perhaps that’s telling me something.

In my estimation, I’ve done about 13 muscle worship sessions total in the past three years. I’ve seen the same FBB twice on two occasions, meaning I’ve met a total of 11 beautiful female bodybuilders. As expected, some sessions were better than others. Fortunately, I can say only one session was disappointing. It wasn’t because of anything major, but rather because the two of us didn’t quite connect. I don’t harbor any ill feelings toward this particular woman. She just wasn’t my cup of tea. No big deal.

It’s hard to say which one is my favorite, but I can say with confidence that the one experience I’m about to illustrate stands out above a lot of them. I’ve told her about my blog, so she could very well be reading this post as we speak! Hopefully I don’t get a stern e-mail from her complaining about anything I’ve written.

This experience happened last spring. No need to get more specific than that. We’ll call her “Blonde Amazon.” Once again, I’ll conceal her identity in order to protect her reputation. You can ask me all you want who she is, but I’ll just politely decline. You have been warned!

It all started where most muscle worship sessions start: wb270.com. Go check it out if you haven’t already. It’s not the most visually appealing website, but it gets the job done. I frequently check it to see who is planning to travel to my neck of the woods. Lo and behold, one day I see that Blonde Amazon is promising to come to the Pacific Northwest in the spring of 2015. Heck yeah! Like many FBBs who offer muscle worship sessions, I’ve known about Blonde Amazon for quite a while. She’s almost like a mini-celebrity to me.

Blonde Amazon and I had been exchanging e-mails for the past year. She originally planned to come to the Seattle area the year before, but had to cancel due to circumstances beyond her control. That’s understandable. Sometimes life gets in the way of doing business. I was a bit disappointed because I really looked forward to meeting a woman who is an Amazon in every sense of the word: Tall, strong, confident, and beautiful. Standing at a solid six feet tall, it’s not too often you see a woman of that stature who isn’t playing in the WNBA.

A year after her initial cancellation, I receive a message from her out of the blue telling me she’s planning to come to Seattle for real. Would I be interested in seeing her?

In a word, YES!

So we agree on a one hour sensual muscle worship session. Nothing too crazy or out-of-this-world. We establish a time to meet and exchange contact information. I wire her a deposit into her PayPal account and within hours she lets me know which hotel she will be staying at. And with that, we are all set to go. Monday at 9:00 p.m. I could hardly wait!

All weekend I did nothing but watch videos of her on the Internet and search for every last photo I could find. There isn’t much out there, but I saw enough to know what I was getting myself into. I’ve known about Blonde Amazon for several years, so it’s not like she was new to me. In fact, she was probably one of the first female bodybuilders I ever heard of, which added to her intrigue. She truly was a celebrity in my own mind. The general public may not know who she is, but as far as I was concerned, she was Marilyn Monroe.

Beautiful heels.
Beautiful heels.

What intrigued me most about Blonde Amazon was her elegance and striking beauty. She looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue magazine. She’s traditionally beautiful and would turn heads everywhere she goes. When I saw photos of her, I thought of her as a gorgeous, statuesque woman who happens to be muscular, not a muscular woman who coincidentally happens to have a pretty face. Blonde Amazon may not be famous in our mainstream pop culture, but if she had chosen a different profession (perhaps modeling or acting) instead of bodybuilding, I have no doubt she could have made it BIG.

From the moment I woke up that morning, I could hardly wait for 9:00 p.m. to arrive. I drove to work like usual. I sat through boring meetings like usual. I worked on my projects like usual. I made small chit chat with my co-workers like usual. I seemed calm on the surface. But underneath my heart raced a little faster and my brain was going off to weird places. Not a single person at my office knew what I was about to experience just a few hours later. But life can be funny at times. For all I know, maybe one of my co-workers was also planning to see Blonde Amazon later that evening! Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Thankfully, I was able to leave work early. I headed home, got a quick bite to eat, and sashayed to the gym for a brief workout. I try to always get a quick workout in before doing a session because it allows me to burn off some steam and “get my juices flowing” beforehand. I don’t recall what I actually did at the gym, but that doesn’t matter. I showered, got dressed, dropped off my stinky gym clothes at my apartment, checked my e-mail for any emergency messages from her (there weren’t any) and drove off to her hotel.

The drive at 7:45 p.m. was pleasantly smooth. Almost no major traffic hurdles. By then rush hour had ended, so it was practically smooth sailing. I had some difficulties finding the place because the hotel was buried behind a large business complex. A very strange place for a hotel, but that’s the way it was. The hotel wasn’t a traditional looking hotel, but instead resembled a small upper class gated community (minus the gate). I parked my car in the back area away from the other cars in order to draw less attention to myself.

I turned off the ignition and took a deep breath.

Whew.

After several moments, I walked out and tried to find her exact unit. It took me a while because the hotel was split up into four or five different buildings. Strangely enough, I had inadvertently parked my vehicle nearly in front of her room. It must have been divine intervention, obviously. I finally saw which unit she was staying in and checked my phone for the time.

8:30. Damn. I have thirty minutes until I can go knock on her door!

I returned to my car and turned on the radio. Nothing good was on. Oh well. All I need to do is pass the time before I can approach her room. Should I play a game on my phone? Nah, I don’t want to drain the battery before the night is over.

Some random Adele song plays. Then something by Walk the Moon. Finally, it’s 8:50 p.m. I know I said I had thirty minutes until I can knock on her door, but being ten minutes early never hurt anyone. After all, it’s better to be early than late.

So I get out of my car, lock it and walk toward her room. I take in a deep breath and experience the fresh spring air. Nothing about it tickles my fancy. I approach her door and notice she’s drawn the curtains over the front window. Obviously, she wants privacy. I don’t blame her one bit. I would want my privacy, too! I look around to see if anyone is watching me. No one is in sight. It’s a bit eerie, but that’s the way it is. I knock on the door and wait. The wait doesn’t last long. The door opens and I immediately have to tilt my head upward.

Whoa. She’s every bit the six feet tall she claims to be! She says “hi” and invites me inside. I enthusiastically step through the door. I close it behind me and allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. I look around and see a simple room that offers exactly what you’d expect: a bed, a small table, an old non-HD square television, a cute little kitchenette (with a modest refrigerator), mass produced artwork on the walls and a bathroom with a shower. You wouldn’t want to live here, but it’s not bad if you’re just passing through town.

Gorgeous blonde locks of hair.
Gorgeous blonde locks of hair.

I take off my shoes and place my backpack on the floor. The first thing we do is exchange her payment. It’s better to get the money stuff out of the way early so we can just relax and get things going with that out of the way. I give her an envelope full of cash and she quickly puts it in her luggage. Good. Now we can actually begin.

We sit down on the edge of the bed and chat to start off the evening. She talks about her kids and how they’re growing up faster than she’d like. It’s not often FBBs are open to speaking about their families, but Blonde Amazon is obviously an exception. I learned a while back not to ask too many questions about boyfriends, husbands, parents and kids. It’s best to leave family matters out of a muscle worship session. But I was pleasantly surprised that Blonde Amazon was willing to open up about her personal life to a complete stranger like me.

I find out she works in the healthcare industry as a personal caretaker. I tell her that I work at a nonprofit organization that serves the local homeless population. While our businesses are very different, we do share one thing in common: we help people. On that level, we develop a sense of mutual respect.

We chat for a bit about her competitive history and previous sessions I’ve done. Unexpectedly, she knows a few of the female bodybuilders I’ve seen in the past. It’s a small world, indeed. After about 15 or so minutes, we begin the actual sensual session. I stand up and remove all my clothes except for my underwear. I tuck it next to my backpack. Wearing a sexy black negligee, she stands up and poses for me. She isn’t as muscular as a pro bodybuilder, but she’s fit, athletic and looks fantastic. I approach her and feel her beautiful arms. She squeezes her biceps and I try to cup it in my hands. Not surprisingly, my fingers fail to contain her hard mounds of muscle. She laughs and I start to laugh with her.

I then realize that she’s a lot more muscular than I initially gave her credit for. That might be a problem with tall women. She has an impressive amount of muscle mass, but her long frame stretches it out further than it would on a shorter woman. So she is a bodybuilder. It’s just that her height makes it a little less obvious. Blonde Amazon probably has just as much muscle mass as a 5’2” female bodybuilder, but her tall body makes it harder to notice any “definition.”

I get down on my knees and feel her legs. Her long, athletic legs nearly make my heart stop mid-beat. Wow! Never in my life have I ever felt legs as sleek and sensual as hers. I probably spent most of my time feeling up her beautiful long legs. She must have noticed my affinity for her gams because she lifted one of her feet to accentuate her muscular calf. Oh baby! I could die at that moment and be a happy man for eternity. Alas, my faculties continued to operate so I could move on to her upper body.

Her shapely shoulders perfectly complement her curvy figure. Blonde Amazon’s skin feels as smooth as velvet. The texture of her body is music to my fingers. I give her a generous back massage as we continue to talk about our lives. She describes one of her caretaker clients and how compassionate she is toward him. She’s modest, of course, but I could gather that she genuinely cares about her job and the individuals she works with every day. She describes how challenging it is to meet his unique needs. I listen intently. I struggle to imagine what it’d be like to work in a profession like that. I’m thankful that there are empathetic people like Blonde Amazon who do.

At some point during the evening, she takes off the negligee and reveals her lingerie. I cannot remember exactly when, but it was a welcomed choice on her part. As I caress her neck, chest and tummy, she kindly removes her bra and tosses it to the ground. I take advantage of this and feel her gorgeous round breasts. Blonde Amazon is one elegant lady, no doubt about it! I’m serious when I say that she belongs on the front cover of a fashion magazine. Her face is as beautiful as a supermodel’s. No matter her age, she’ll always be unbelievably gorgeous. If there are people out there who are, for whatever reason, disgusted by female bodybuilders, Blonde Amazon will definitely challenge their preconceptions. She’s unquestionably feminine, curvaceous and sophisticated. What’s there not to like about that?

A rounded bottom that you cannot help but touch.
A rounded bottom that you cannot help but touch.

Once we get to the second half of our appointment, we begin to snuggle on the bed. My arousal becomes evident underneath my underwear. Blonde Amazon chooses not to remove her panties and I respect this boundary. Although, we did get on the subject of female anatomy and she briefly pulled down her panties to show me her clitoris. It’s as beautiful as you’d expect. Long and thick, her lady endowment is striking for both its size and natural appearance. She didn’t let me touch it, so I could only look at it in awe. My jaw didn’t exactly drop to the floor, but it might as well have. Anytime I can regard upon a female bodybuilder’s genitalia is a treat for my eyes that I must treasure dearly.

Finally, I look at the clock sitting on a bedside table and see we have approximately 10 minutes left. I think I know what’s about to come next. Like flipping a light switch, we share a simple kiss and Blonde Amazon turns on her “sexy” side with remarkable ease. I remove my underwear and throw it across the room. Who cares where it falls? After tickling my scrotum and giving me a few initial strokes, Blonde Amazon searches for her bottle of lotion and applies a small amount on the palm of her hand. Her captivating blue eyes meet mine. I get another close look at her flawless face. I swear, I cannot believe why she isn’t a famous worldwide celebrity! What gives?

I lay on my back and she slides between my legs. My penis is throbbing at this point and could explode just from a single touch. Thankfully, my “manliness” instincts kick in and I last much longer than that.

Blonde Amazon wraps her callused fingers around my erect manhood and strokes up and down with deliberate patience. There’s no rush. No hurry. She’s obviously not a clock-watcher. I reach over and touch her breasts. The tips of my fingers playfully pinch her erect nipples. I cup her mammaries and experience their fullness. As she continues to caress my penis, I notice something extraordinary. She does an incredible job of “acting” like we were having sex. Her breathing becomes heavy. Her eyes close. She looks up to the Heavens and licks her lips. She even starts to moan and groan as if we were passionately making love. We weren’t, obviously, but the expressions on her face were as hot as I’d ever seen in my life.

This woman knows how to provide a killer sensual session. She didn’t just give a hand job. She pretended like we were having wild, animalistic sex. I didn’t feel like a “john” receiving a run-of-the-mill sexual service from a strange woman. I felt like a “Man” (with a capital “M”) who was confidently making love to a gorgeous supermodel. Looking into her eyes, I felt like we were lovers with an illustrious history together. I felt like we were meant to be together. I realize this is nothing but “make-believe,” but it’s the little things like that that count in a major way.

I feel a surge of energy building up within my body. Blonde Amazon’s fake orgasm coincides with my own, as I eventually climax and ejaculate all over my stomach. My spasms go on for what seems like forever. I’m out of breath. She stops stroking my penis and allows it to deflate. I open my eyes and look at the mess I made. Blonde Amazon goes to the bathroom and returns with a clean white towel. I clean myself off. She then giggles and makes an astute observation about yours truly:

“You can shoot!”

Indeed, I can!

I always assumed this was how all guys were, but when I get excited (I mean, really excited), I can spew out my semen like a porn star. This is probably more about me than you care to know, but too bad! Blonde Amazon comments to me that she loves watching men squirt long distances. Granted, I didn’t exactly shoot out across the room and into the adjacent parking lot, but I guess what I demonstrated to her piqued her interest. Score one for me!

I joke that I should star in a porno one day. She laughs and says she’d love to watch it. She reiterates her fascination with men who can powerfully ejaculate. I guess she gets bored watching guys ooze out their seed like an elderly turtle.

She invites me to take a shower and I accept her offer. After a short rinse off, I dry myself, use the toilet and change back into my clothes. By now she’d put back on her sexy black negligee. I don’t know if she’s seeing another client that night, but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to kick me to the curb. As I always do, I request that I take a picture of her. She obliges. I take two with my phone: one serious, the other more silly. The silly one still makes me laugh to the present day. We hug. She promises to return back to the Seattle area as soon as she practically can. I tell her that I’ll always think about the gentleman with special needs that she takes care of. She also wishes him well and hopes he’ll be able to live a happy life.

Blonde Amazon wore a sexy black negligee just like the one being worn by Eva Longoria.
Blonde Amazon wore a sexy black negligee just like the one being worn by Eva Longoria.

I become bold and tell her about my blog. She says she’ll try to read my writing when she finds the time. Given her hectic schedule, I highly doubt she’ll ever have a spare moment to see what yours truly is up to on the Internet. I promise her I’d send her the link to my website in an e-mail message. She once again agrees to check it out. Swoon!

We share one final kiss (I have to almost stand on my toes to reach up to her lips!) and I leave her room. I’m one happy and satisfied man. As I drive back home, I come to the conclusion that Blonde Amazon is a one-of-a-kind woman who’s inner beauty radiates brighter than her outer beauty. It’s one thing to be physically gorgeous. It’s another thing to be a gracious and hardworking mother who deeply cares for the well-being of the people around her. It takes a special kind of soul to do the work she does on a daily basis. My mom used to do work similar and she got burnt out real quickly. So the fact that she persists with her job is a testament to her fortitude, emotional strength and considerate temperament.

She’s a true one-in-a-billion. Perhaps even more unique than that. Actually, yes, way more unique than that!

When I get home I e-mail her the link to my blog. Within a week, I receive a reply message from her saying she loves my writing (especially, oddly enough, my forays into erotic fiction)! Holy smokes! Add Blonde Amazon to my prestigious list of faithful readers. I hope she reads this particular post and realizes who I’m writing about. Given her intelligence and sharp insight, I don’t doubt for a moment she knew who I was talking about from the get-go.

I’m being 100 percent honest when I say I still think about the guy she cares for. I don’t know if she’s still one of her clients, but he’s quite disabled and needs plenty of caring. I’m sure his family is eternally grateful for Blonde Amazon for being the one who looks out for him.

Thank you, Blonde Amazon. Our paths haven’t crossed since that marvelous evening we spent together last spring. I don’t think she’s been over here since. If she ever decides to return to the Pacific Northwest, you can bet your life’s savings I’ll be first in line to set up another appointment with her!

But until that day arrives, all I can say is this:

Thank you, Blonde Amazon. Thank you for being you.

The Pleasure is All Mine: A Tribute to Xenia Onatopp

Xenia Onatopp. The pleasure was all hers.
Xenia Onatopp. The pleasure was all hers.

Everyone has a seminal moment that defines their youth. Alright, it may not actually “define” their youth per se, but a moment that certainly played an integral role in shaping their transition from childhood to adulthood. It may not have been a specific moment, perhaps a series of moments that culminated into an event. Or, it could’ve been a pivotal “ah ha” epiphany that forever changed how you viewed the world.

For me, it’s pretty obvious. I grew up a James Bond fan. My father introduced me to the old school 1960s Sean Connery Bond films when I was at least 8 years old. Maybe even younger. I don’t remember exactly, but the super suave British spy left an indelible mark on my childhood. Some kids wanted to be Luke Skywalker or Spider-Man or Batman. I wanted to be James Bond. And Indiana Jones, but that’s a whole other discussion.

Can you really blame me? Agent 007 can save the world from the forces of evil while enjoying all the benefits that come from being a charming and sophisticated gentleman. He can defeat agents of SPECTRE while enjoying a vodka martini (a drink I obviously did not know much about as a youngling) and making love to a beautiful woman. Even as a small child I knew that was a special perk, despite being prepubescent and not fully understanding what sex was all about.

However, my eyes opened further when I was introduced to a certain Bond girl (or rather, Bond villain) in Xenia Onatopp. It took me a while to understand the meaning behind her innuendo-laden name. But that didn’t matter. The character is featured in 1995’s GoldenEye, a fantastic Bond film that reinvigorated the franchise after the lukewarm reception to 1989’s Licence to Kill (notice I used the proper British spelling). I personally loved the second installment of Timothy Dalton’s tenure as 007, but that’s just me. Not everyone agrees. That’s fine.

But Xenia Onatopp, played by the gorgeous Dutch actress Famke Janssen, completely altered my reality. I felt my paradigm shift…even though I had no idea what that concept even meant (I still don’t). She wasn’t just a beautiful Bond girl. Nor was she just a typical megalomaniac Bond villain bent on world domination. She was…different. Exceptional. Dynamic. Memorable. Eye-popping. Charismatic.

Sexy.

Oh, yeah. Unbelievably sexy. Without question, Famke Janssen’s magnificent performance as Xenia will forever be remembered as one of the most unforgettable cinematic characters to ever grace the silver screen. Remember, she’s not just a remarkable Bond character. She’s an extraordinary movie character PERIOD. I also spent way too much time playing GoldenEye on Nintendo 64, so perhaps that added to her appeal. But Xenia Onatopp left an impact on my psyche. She definitely had a hand in formulating my love for female bodybuilders. Real life FBBs obviously pushed me over the edge, but Miss Onatopp planted a seed in my adolescent mind that bore beautiful fruit later on.

Xenia could have a classically elegant side, if you let her.
Xenia could have a classically elegant side, if you let her.

My parents didn’t let me watch GoldenEye when it was first released in movie theaters, so I saw it later in 1996 when I was nine years old. Remember the good old days of VHS cassette tapes? Yeah, of course you do! That’s how I first experienced Famke Janssen’s beautiful face and sexy Russian accent. I was quite impressed with Pierce Brosnan as the James Bond of the 90s, but I wanted to watch it over and over again purely because of Miss Janssen. Can you blame me?

No, of course you can’t.

It should be obvious why Xenia Onatopp captured my attention. She’s a beautiful and badass villainess who kills her opponents by seducing them, luring them into a sensual trap, and slaying them by choking them to death with her strong legs. Very lethal! Not only is she effective as an assassin, but she enjoys herself in the process. What’s the point of living if you can’t feel alive?

Whether she’s killing a Canadian naval admiral or attempting to do the same to James Bond in a hotel sauna, Xenia explodes on the screen. Your eyes cannot leave her whenever she’s in the frame. For an impressionable nine year old boy, her captivating presence worked its magic ten-fold. I hadn’t yet hit puberty, but I knew she was special for a reason I couldn’t quite explain. Her power enthralled me. The way she eliminated her enemies erupted an electric feeling inside me that made my heartbeat race a million miles per minute. I was aroused by her in a way only a prepubescent boy still in his latency stage could be.

As a Bond girl/Bond villain, Xenia is one of the few women who could match Bond’s physical prowess. She isn’t as muscular as a bodybuilder, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a movie, which means you have to use your imagination. Trust me, my imagination went into overdrive when it came to her!

As I got older and I started to re-watch the movie several times over, what struck me most was the realization that Xenia isn’t necessarily an evil person. Yes, she did the bidding of General Ourumov and Alec Trevelyan, but I never got the impression that she was super enthusiastic about their goals. Stealing a satellite weapon that fires an electromagnetic pulse toward a hapless target so that it can be used to rob London of a mountain-load currency? That’s fine, but wouldn’t it be better if I could also enjoy orgasmic-loaded murder sprees at the same time? That was Xenia’s self-indulgent outlook on life.

Famke Janssen was (and still is) one of the most beautiful women in the world.
Famke Janssen was (and still is) one of the most beautiful women in the world.

As a character, she was a perfect specimen for young hormone-raging boys like me. Strong, beautiful, sexy, and not afraid to have fun while killing people. How awesome is that? The rebel in me loved that she could play by her own rules (I somehow doubt her superiors specifically sanctioned her sexually-charged assassination techniques) and enjoy the ride while it lasted. It came to an end, of course (“she always did enjoy a good squeeze”). But what a glorious ride it was, huh?

Later Famke Janssen would continue her fame in the X-Men movies. But no matter how many additional film and television appearances she would make, her role in GoldenEye continues to be her signature piece of work. I don’t know what she’s up to today, but Ms. Janssen will always be my top celebrity crush. Right next to Monica Bellucci and Rena Mero, Famke forever claims a special place in my heart. No matter how old I get (and how old she gets), my whole body might start to convulse in uncontrollable tremors if I were to ever see her in person.

Obviously, the character is a chief reason why I love female bodybuilders so much. Like I said before, Xenia is not an exceedingly muscular woman, but for the sake of enjoying the movie, I suspended my disbelief momentarily and subconsciously thought of her as the strongest woman in the world. As a boy, I secretly fantasized about what it would be like to be wrapped around her strong legs and for her to squeeze as hard as she possibly could. My neck would crack for sure. Breathing would become increasingly more difficult. I might pass out or even meet my Maker right then and there. Either way, I’d be one happy camper. I didn’t know it explicitly at the time, but as a young boy I started to develop my exquisite taste for strong women.

Oddly enough, I don’t get too excited about the prospects of being crushed by a muscular woman. I’ve written before that wrestling, beat downs, and other BDSM-related activities don’t appeal to me all that much. I have nothing against these fetishes, but they just aren’t my cup of tea. I don’t judge anyone who is into that sort of thing, of course. But it’s not for me. So it’s a bit strange why my first foray into the world of muscular women would include a fictional character who kills men with her pure brute strength. Rather odd, indeed.

Other than Wai Lin in "Tomorrow Never Dies," Xenia was the only Bond girl who could match Bond in a fist fight.
Other than Wai Lin in “Tomorrow Never Dies,” Xenia was the only Bond girl who could match Bond in a fist fight.

Maybe I don’t entirely understand myself. Perhaps I do in fact fetishize being trampled upon by a woman but I just don’t know it yet. Or maybe I’m not actually into that and it’s by happy accident that my universe turned upside down the moment I discovered Miss Onatopp and her sexually wicked ways.

Outside of my own narrow perspective, Xenia Onatopp probably isn’t a character the general public will remember all that much, Bond aficionados notwithstanding. What makes her stand out above most cinematic villains is how hypersexual she is during every waking moment of her life. Violence gives her an erotic thrill. Whether she’s shooting up a room full of Russian computer programmers or asphyxiating unsuspecting male victims with her powerful legs, committing violent acts turns her on. In her own sick mind, violence may be the only thing that truly turns her on.

The world of cinema is definitely not shy from mixing sex with violence, but GoldenEye introduced us to a character who took it to the next level: Murder isn’t just an activity that gives her an orgasm; murder is the only activity that gives her an orgasm.

In books, movies and TV shows, we’re accustomed to seeing villains commit crimes for more or less “traditional” reasons: greed, vengeance, ego, hunger for power, etc. Xenia, and to an extent Heath Ledger’s Joker in The Dark Knight, commits acts of violence because it thrills her. I never got the impression that she ever felt any passion for Alec Trevelyan’s personal vendetta against M-16. She went along with it because it gave her an excuse to assassinate powerful men, attack innocent civilians, cook up mayhem and be a “bad girl.”

Symbolically, Xenia throws up her proverbial middle finger at society and then proceeds to masturbate with it just because she feels like it. She’ll stick it to the human race and climax over and over again while they helplessly watch – just for the hell of it.

Violence is orgasmic, a mantra I don't recommend anyone live by!
Violence is orgasmic, a mantra I don’t recommend anyone live by!

In that respect, it’s rather refreshing to see a villain commit crimes not as a means to an end but as an end unto itself. Xenia ushered in a new class of criminal; one who isn’t after anything tangible like money, power, or fame, but instead steals because she thinks it’s good sport. Alfred Pennyworth may have said something similar to Bruce Wayne, but that’s beside the point. From a storytelling perspective, Xenia exists outside of the plot. She was definitely working with the bad guys, but she really had her own agenda. She wanted to have fun. If collaborating with the Janus crime syndicate could provide her with the enough excuses to have fun, so be it.

Obviously, I do not advocate for anyone to follow Ms. Onatopp’s example and kill people for the heck of it. But her character undeniably left an impression on me. My love for female bodybuilders is the most palpable. But it’s not because of the fantasy of being crushed, squeezed and incapacitated by a strong sexy woman. That doesn’t appeal to me nearly as much as you’d think. Instead, I was drawn to her because she did what she did for reasons that are her own and hers alone. She never had to justify herself. She didn’t squeeze men to death because she wanted to prove that she could do it. She did it because she enjoyed it.

In a perverted kind of way, Xenia is one of the greatest feminist characters modern cinema has churned out in recent decades. She exists purely for her own sake. She doesn’t hate men or hold a grudge against them; she uses them for her own pleasure. Xenia is a hedonist in every sense of the word. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Whether she’s conspiring with evil forces to plot an international terrorist attack or she’s screeching in delight from an earth-shattering orgasm seconds after killing a man, everything she did could be summarized in one simple line:

The pleasure was all hers.

Come Again? Female Bodybuilders and Orgasms (NSFW)

A picture-perfect scene involving Autumn Raby and Denise Masino.
A picture-perfect scene involving Autumn Raby and Denise Masino.

The mind of a female muscle fan can go to strange places. Trust me. WordPress conveniently allows me to see what search engine terms people are using that lead them to stumble upon my blog. A lot of it is predictable. Most of it is pretty raunchy. But all of it is perfectly understandable. People are, by their very nature, curious beings.

Female bodybuilders can be fascinating creatures. Can you blame anyone for wanting to learn more about them? I emphatically cannot.

Google searches can tell a lot about what’s on somebody’s mind. It’s a much safer way to discover information compared to asking someone. Would you want to casually discuss around the water cooler with your co-workers the topic of how to make your girlfriend squirt? Yeah, probably not. Unless you work at a sex toy store, such conversation is – generally speaking – considered “inappropriate.” It’s best to find out about that stuff on your own.

Hence, the beautiful and glorious anonymity of the Internet. Unless you have a significant other or precocious child reading through your browser history, what you search for online in the privacy of your own home is strictly between you and your computer. Even if an inquiring poltergeist is hovering by and watching over your shoulder, I’m sure it will keep his or her lips sealed. Dead men tell no tales, as the old saying goes.

One such prominent search engine term that frequently refers people to my blog deals with female bodybuilders and their vaginas. “Female muscle pussy,” “FBB pussy,” or “sexy muscle clit” are a sampling of what I’m talking about. Variations change slightly, but the theme is consistent. People are intrigued by the genitalia of a strong muscular woman.

To be fair, it’s not unusual for men (and women) of all ages to be inquisitive about the subject of what lies between a woman’s legs. I was too when I was a snot-nosed teenager. Heck, I still am even as an adult. No matter how wise or experienced you become in terms of dealing with the ladies, a man’s thirst for knowledge about the opposite sex never ceases. There always seems to be more to know, right? There’s a reason why we continue in the present day to study the phenomenon of human mating on a scientific and social level – even though humanity has been having sex for thousands and thousands of years. The topic will always tickle our fancy (insert bad pun here).

But in regards to female bodybuilders, the topic of their vaginas takes on a special tone. We’re not just dealing with normal women. We’re dealing with strong, muscular goddesses who seem to be from another planet. Their “otherworldliness” makes the subject of their bodies and sexuality all the more intriguing. I’ve written before on this, but I’d like to take this opportunity to explore this from a slightly different angle. Shall we?

Let’s talk about orgasms.

Ever since the glory days of adolescence, most of us (I cannot for sure say “all,” but that’s a whole other conversation) experience orgasms on a regular basis. Some every day. Others less frequently than that. Whatever. We’re not being judgmental around here. Of those orgasms we experience, some are generated by a partner (or multiple partners, depending on how kinky you happen to be) during the act of coitus. Others – and perhaps the majority for many of us – come through masturbation. Regardless of the circumstances in which you “get off,” orgasms are a natural part of our existence. They give us pleasure. They help release pent-up tension. They make sex worthwhile. They make masturbation not an act of selfishness, but of self-care. They can help us sleep at night or cure a nagging headache. They make the process of reproduction possible. They give us incentive to want to find a mate and reproduce. In other words, orgasms are undeniably an important facet of the human experience. They’re so imperative that researchers have written mountain loads of books on the subject. There are whole industries dedicated to helping get people “in the mood” to have an orgasm. There’s medication available to us to help people achieve orgasm when certain physiological functions aren’t working properly.

If Desiree Ellis approached me in a smoke-filled film noir-style bar, oh boy...
If Desiree Ellis approached me in a smoke-filled film noir-style bar, oh boy…

You get the idea. Orgasms matter a great deal to us. As they should. There’s no debating that. Without getting too deeply into religion and certain social mores, suffice to say that the vast majority of us can agree that experiencing orgasms is a great thing for all of us to do. Orgasms are a good thing, yes?

This explains why there are a significant number of Internet users who are curious about female bodybuilders, their genitalia and how they experience sex. Are their orgasms similar to mine? Are their orgasms similar to my wife’s? The questions can be endless. Inquiring minds need to know! Here is a short selection of some more:

  • Do muscular women experience more intense orgasms?
  • Does a female bodybuilder with an enormous clit experience better orgasms?
  • Is an FBB’s vagina tighter and more muscular than a normal woman’s?
  • Do FBBs spend extra time working out their vaginas so they can have more pleasurable orgasms? If so, what can I (or my girlfriend) do to achieve the same thing?
  • Are female bodybuilders always horny?
  • Does having more testosterone than normal women make FBBs less interested in sex? In men? In having orgasms? In doing other “girly” things?
  • What does a female bodybuilder’s vagina look like? Is it different than mine?
  • How do FBBs masturbate? And where can I go to watch some in action………?

Have any of you ever pondered these matters? I’ll admit with full disclosure that I have. Oh, boy. My dirty mind can go to strange places if I have nothing better to think about. I can guarantee that I am not alone in this. Thanks to WordPress’ analytics page, I have proof that confirms my suspicions. We all have dirty minds. Some of us are more proactive than others in indulging it.

All of this brings us to the $500,000 question. What is it like for a female bodybuilder to have an orgasm? Are they more pleasurable than others? Or maybe less pleasurable? Do her muscle contractions last longer? Are they more intense? Is it easier for her to experience an orgasm because her clitoris is much bigger than normal? Or, is it easier for her to come because her vagina is especially tight?

I am not an expert in human anatomy, so I cannot (and should not) attempt to answer these questions directly. Plus, I’m a dude. I don’t have a vagina and never have. What authority do I carry to speak on this subject? Not a whole lot, I can tell you that.

However, I can speak to the concept of exploring why this subject mesmerizes so many of us. And what all of this means. Let’s begin with what I do know.

Amber DeLuca better have more fun in the bedroom. She definitely deserves it!
Amber DeLuca better have more fun in the bedroom. She definitely deserves it!

First, the vagina is a muscle. We often refer to it as an organ, but it’s not a traditional organ like the penis. It’s a tube-shaped fibro-muscular part of a woman’s genital tract that stretches from the vulva to the uterus (or the cervix, if we want to get really technical). We’re all aware of its role in sexual intercourse and childbirth. But that first fact stands out above all else. The vagina is a muscle. Female bodybuilders have big muscles. So…in an attempt to connect the cerebral dots, do FBBs have bigger vaginas than non-muscular women? Or more specifically, do they possess stronger vaginas?

I highly doubt an inordinate amount of research has been done on these specific questions. What reason would we have to pour millions of research grant money into finding out if female bodybuilders have more intense orgasms than the rest of the female population? The scientific process utilized to seek out useful data would be enthralling to witness, but nevertheless we can all agree such an experiment would never occur. We still don’t have a definitive cure for cancer, am I right?

I suspect female bodybuilders experience sex and sexual pleasure in the exact same ways non-muscular women do. Bench pressing, deadlifting, squatting and bicep curls don’t strengthen the vaginal muscles. Kegel exercises, on the other hand, do. For the unenlightened amongst you, Kegel exercises are a series of physical activities that aim to strengthen the pelvic floor muscles. By squeezing the levator muscles for five seconds and releasing them in a repetitive manner, you strengthen your urinary tract, uterus, bladder, small intestine and rectum. For women, it helps prevent urinary incontinence after childbirth and general urinary problems for men (and women). Any obstetrician worth a grain of salt should recommend a pregnant woman do Kegel exercises during and after pregnancy.

Unless a female bodybuilder is spending a substantial amount of her time doing Kegel exercises in addition to her usual grueling workout regimen, I don’t foresee any logical reason why an FBB would have a more muscular nether region than normal women. But then again, I’m neither a bodybuilder nor a woman, so what do I know?

So this finally gets us to the $1 million question. Why does it matter? Why are so many of us out there going on Google, Bing or Yahoo and researching whether the muscular women we love also happen to experience more intense orgasms? What’s the big deal?

Well, that’s a much more thought-provoking discussion.

Deep down inside, many of us female muscle fans have this inherent belief that female bodybuilders are somehow superhuman. Like Superman, Spider-Man, the Hulk or Wonder Woman, FBBs seem to possess special abilities beyond the rest of us. Even us menfolk. Their muscle definition, dedication, mental fortitude, attention to detail, pure brute strength and divinely sculpted bodies defy all normal expectations of the limits of human achievement. We’re obviously impressed by the aesthetic accomplishments of male bodybuilders, but even more so for their female counterparts. We’re conditioned to expect to see men walk around with big biceps and broad shoulders. That’s no big deal. But when we see a woman strutting around the neighborhood with a similar look, it raises even more eyebrows. “Wow!” – people think – “That’s really impressive!”

Subconsciously, we also think this “superhuman” motif spills over into other arenas of life. For example, the arena of sex. If female bodybuilders have exceptional muscle mass, exceptional grit, exceptional toughness and exceptional strength, why wouldn’t she also have exceptional sexual abilities? We may not overtly believe this, but it makes perfect sense that these thoughts would cross our minds.

We need more pin-up ladies like Tatiana Anderson.
We need more pin-up ladies like Tatiana Anderson.

Additionally, this might be something that we want to believe. Most of us fans of female bodybuilders are attracted to them as human beings. We can all agree Desiree Ellis is a fine physical specimen. And if she were to randomly approach you and sensually whisper in your ear “make love to me all night long,” who would dare turn her down? I sure wouldn’t!

So there is undeniably an element of fantasy at play here. Call it “wishful thinking,” but let’s simply refer to it as fantasy. We want to believe that one of the perks of being a bodybuilder is the ability to experience enhanced orgasms. We want her to be rewarded for her hard work by having a better time in the bedroom than her less muscular peers. Perhaps that’s it. Deep down inside, we want female bodybuilders to experience more pleasurable orgasms for two reasons: 1. It’s incredibly hot to think about, and 2. We believe she deserves it.

After all the sacrifices FBBs go through to achieve their desired look day-in and day-out, don’t they deserve extra fun in the sun? The arduous journey they travel to sculpt their beautiful bodies should come with added bonuses, wouldn’t you say? If an “average built” woman achieves a level 6 or 7 orgasm during sex, shouldn’t a female bodybuilder be allowed to experience a level 10 or 11? Heck, why not 13 or 14?

If you think about it, what tangible benefits come with being a bodybuilder other than monetary rewards (which only go to an exclusive number of professional competitors) and external accolades? Perhaps a healthier body than most other people, but years and years of bodybuilding can eventually takes its toll. Increased risk of injury and the negative effects of steroids (or whatever drugs you choose to take) come with the territory. None of us are naïve about this.

So, perhaps in our heart of hearts, we want FBBs to be able to have more fun in the bedroom because we want to see them rewarded for being willing to make these endless sacrifices. A little incentive never hurt anyone, right? We’re curious whether FBBs experience better orgasms not because we have any practical reasons for finding out why, but rather because we really, really, really want them to. They deserve it! They absolutely deserve all the physical pleasure their bodies are able to grant them. They spend so much time in the gym punishing their bodies. Why can’t they be able to reward their bodies with much needed fleshly delights every once in a while?

I am infinitely interested in what lies between Angela Salvagno's legs.
I am infinitely interested in what lies between Angela Salvagno’s legs.

Obviously, we all universally believe female bodybuilders deserve all the benefits that come from trudging through their demanding lifestyles. Adoring fans? Check. Lucrative endorsement deals? Check. Public recognition for the fruits of their labor? Double check. Better sexual experiences? Oh yeah. That’s definitely a check!

Maybe these inquisitive Google searches aren’t a reflection of our own curiosity so much as a testament to how much we genuinely love strong women. We love them so much we instinctively wish that they are able to indulge in carnal experiences that are completely unknown to their peers who choose not to be bodybuilders. People who work hard should be compensated accordingly. None of us can disagree with that.

Not every female bodybuilder will make a lot of money. Not every female bodybuilder will become famous. Not every female bodybuilder will receive the appropriate level of public adoration they deserve. But perhaps, maybe in an alternative parallel universe, somewhere in a galaxy far, far away, there exists a reality where all female bodybuilders can experience the most intense, gratifying, shamelessly hedonistic, eyes-rolling-in-the-back-of-the-head, beautiful orgasms ever known to humankind.

People who are disgusted by female bodybuilders would undoubtedly be jealous if such a reality were possible. Wouldn’t that be a gorgeous example of poetic justice?

2015 in review – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Year in Review 2015 - Lindsay Mulinazzi
Lindsay Mulinazzi would like to wish you a Happy New Year!

Another year of blogging in the books. That means what exactly? Not much, because most bloggers consider the date they published their first post (in my case, May 23, 2012) as more of a milestone than Dec. 31 or Jan. 1.

Nevertheless, here is my 2015 Year in Review. Thank you, WordPress!

Admittedly, I didn’t blog nearly as much this year as I’d like. I promise to create more content in 2016 and do a better job at responding to comments and e-mails. I can be the worst at responding to e-mail messages. There are only so many hours in my day. I can’t engage in thoughtful, intelligent conversation with all of you, can I?

Perhaps I can. I suppose my New Year’s Resolution for 2016 should be to be more conscientious about communicating with my readers when they cordially reach out to me. Yes, that sounds like a plan. It’s not like my life will be more or less busy moving forward. But that sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it?

I hope 2016 rocks your socks off. Party on!

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 130,000 times in 2015. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 6 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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?
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 50th 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.
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?
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.
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.

Eternal bliss.
Eternal bliss.

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.

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.

A castle in the blackness of night.
A castle in the blackness of night.

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.

An elegant shot of Amanda Latona.
An elegant shot of Amanda Latona.

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.

An epic beach shot of Minna Pajulahti.
An epic beach shot of Minna Pajulahti.

“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.

The cold and unforgiving rain.
The cold and unforgiving rain.

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)

A statuesque Kristy Hawkins.
A statuesque Kristy Hawkins.

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.

A bedroom fit for a Queen.
A bedroom fit for a Queen.

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.

Sheila Bleck. There are no words.
Sheila Bleck. There are no words.

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.

A warm fireplace.
A warm fireplace.

“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.

Envy: The Deadly Sin of Female Bodybuilding

It's understandable to see why some people might be envious of Tatiana Anderson.
It’s understandable to see why some people might be envious of Tatiana Anderson.

Not many of us may be familiar with or sympathetic to the teachings of the early Christian church, but most of us have heard of “The Seven Deadly Sins” at some point.

Whether you’ve seen David Fincher’s classic 1995 film “Se7en” or you just happen to be well-versed in the ethics of medieval Christendom, The Seven Deadly Sins are:

  1. Wrath
  2. Greed
  3. Sloth
  4. Pride
  5. Lust
  6. Envy
  7. Gluttony

These seven vices are associated with self-indulgence and contribute to the fall of humanity. While changing social mores throughout time might knock a few of these sins off their perch, we still to this day regard many of these behaviors with shame.

Female bodybuilding, to switch gears just a bit, is in a position of both strength and weakness right now. On one hand, the popularity of CrossFit, Fitbit, hybrid workouts, customized personal training and fitness apps is making it less taboo for women to lift weights and exercise hard. These trends may not necessarily lead more women down the path of bodybuilding, but the doors are definitely more open than they were in generations past.

On the other hand, the sport of female bodybuilding is being more and more marginalized as the years go on. Elite, hyper-muscular female athletes are being pushed out of the industry while more watered-down “fitness” and “bikini” competitors are taking their place. Pretty soon, it’s not inconceivable that the Ms. Olympia competition may not exist anymore. Competitions involving highly muscular female bodybuilders will definitely still persist, but they’ll most likely receive less mainstream support than they did before.

The gorgeous Debbie Leung flexing her bicep.
The gorgeous Debbie Leung flexing her bicep.

For fans of female bodybuilding, this is a tragedy that feels both inevitable and sadly predictable. We hope this day never arrives, but one can certainly see which direction the tide is turning.

That being said, how does one explain this downgrading of the sport many of us love so much? One of The Seven Deadly Sins may offer a plausible explanation.

Envy.

Let us explore this issue in greater detail.

  1. Envy, in both men and women, is contributing to the assault against female bodybuilding

Unfortunately, the attack against female bodybuilding is coming from two different directions: men and women. Let’s first start with men.

Traditionally-speaking, men are considered to be the “stronger sex” while women are, by default, dubbed the “weaker sex.” There is biological data to back this up, as well as centuries of culturally imposed gender roles – spanning across the entire globe – that contribute to this well-entrenched social paradigm. The concept of men being naturally stronger than women is something we didn’t have to learn in school. Most of us know this by our own accord.

Therefore, when we (and by “we,” I’m referring to us guys as a whole) encounter a woman who’s clearly stronger than us, we feel emasculated. We’re supposed to be the stronger ones, not the losers coming in second place. If you’re at the gym and you see a lady deadlifting two or four 45-pound plates more than you, it makes you feel puny, incomplete and a shame to your gender.

In other words, you feel envious. “Envy,” just to be clear, is defined as “a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another’s advantages, success, possessions, etc.”

I still don’t quite know the difference between “envy” and “jealousy,” (I think “jealousy” is being resentful toward another person as a result of your feelings of envy) but it’s pretty clear what’s going on here. The guys who disdain or are disgusted by female bodybuilders are more targeting their own insecurities instead of expressing their hatred toward someone else. When you see an Internet troll describe a female bodybuilder as “trying to become a man” or saying “she probably has a penis,” what they’re really doing is conveying their personal anxieties rather than stating an objective opinion.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Akila Pervis.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Akila Pervis.

Emasculation can be a powerful motivator. Or a powerful wrecking ball of other people’s accomplishments. It’s sad that more guys aren’t encouraged by women who achieve high levels of strength and muscularity. But not all of us see eye-to-eye. What some of us guys perceive to be sexy others interpret to be an attack on their manhood.

Conversely, envy among women is also at play here. Female bodybuilders may not be shattering any proverbial “glass ceilings” per se, but they do tear down certain excuses we use to justify female weakness. Like men who feel emasculated when in the presence of a muscular woman, there are most certainly women who feel “effeminated” – if such a word actually exists – by the same thing. The small number of women (but by no means insignificant) who achieves strength that surpasses the average man brings about a sense of inadequacy in the majority of women who cannot achieve similar results.

They too are repulsed by their more muscular sisters because they feel challenged not by “society” as a whole, but by their peers. It’s one thing to call yourself a “strong, independent woman” and hope the rest of the world goes along with you, but it’s another thing entirely to actually put in the effort to become a genuinely strong woman. Talk is cheap. What female bodybuilders and athletes do is definitely not.

  1. The best way to deal with envious feelings is to pretend like the object of your envy doesn’t exist

Nobody wants to feel emasculated, degraded or second rate. Nobody wants to wake up, look at themselves in the mirror, and see mediocrity reflected back at them. You feel mediocre because you can’t compare to your competition, however you define “competition.”

So what’s the best way to assure you don’t lose to your competitors? Simple. Don’t have any competitors.

Obviously, it’s impossible to snap your fingers and make everybody who is richer, smarter, stronger, better looking and more successful than you magically disappear. So the next best thing is to pretend like they don’t exist. Or, on a more practical level, deny their identity as a method of “erasing” who they actually are.

This is why the insult “she looks like a man” is so common among trolls. Women aren’t supposed to be stronger than men, so when a woman is proven to be stronger than a man, then she must not actually be a woman. She’s probably secretly a man disguised as a woman. Or a woman with biological characteristics more becoming of a man, which by association means she’s not a genuine woman. Which then means her accomplishments aren’t legitimate. And if her accomplishments aren’t legitimate, you feel better about yourself because that battle you thought you lost you then win by default.

Also flexing her beautiful bicep is Mindi O'Brien.
Also flexing her beautiful bicep is Mindi O’Brien.

Delegitimizing your opponents is a classical tactic to eliminating their victories. If you convince enough people – including yourself – that female bodybuilders are actually women with substantial male components (biological traits, hormone levels, etc.), it makes their accomplishments as elite athletes null and void. It comforts your mind knowing Alina Popa isn’t really a normal woman who, by her sheer willpower and hard work, built herself to be stronger and bulkier than most guys. She has to have an unfair advantage somewhere! Perhaps she has an unusual amount of natural testosterone hidden in her system that, scientifically speaking, makes her a “man.” Yeah, that must be it! There’s no way that she can be that buff while being 100% female. Case closed.

While it’s true many female bodybuilders take drugs that increase their capacity to build muscle mass, that doesn’t make them less of a woman. Scientific arguments aside, the point I’m trying to make is that delegitimizing the accomplishments of a female bodybuilder is the primary way critics try to pretend like the objects of their jealousy don’t exist. Deny them their identity, and you “win” because it gives you personal comfort knowing there’s nothing wrong with your own identity.

It’s a terrible thing to do, but unfortunately it’s all too common.

  1. Envy is more of a product of your own insecurity

As mentioned before, the contempt critics of female bodybuilders feel toward them is more a product of their own insecurities rather than anything else. They aren’t angry at them necessarily, but are actually angry at themselves for not doing enough to measure up.

I won’t stress this point any further, but I will add one more nugget. One of the biggest problems facing our society is the belief that someone’s accomplishment is automatically someone else’s loss. In other words, too many of us embrace the idea that life is a zero-sum game.

In case you need a refresher, a zero-sum game is “a mathematical representation of a situation in which each participant’s gain (or loss) of utility is exactly balanced by the losses (or gains) of the utility of the other participant(s). If the total gains of the participants are added up and the total losses are subtracted, they will sum to zero.”

You don’t need to be a mathematical genius in the vein of the late John Forbes Nash, Jr. to understand what this means. In sports, athletic competition is a zero-sum game. Either you win or you lose. There’s no middle ground. Yes, some sports have ties. Other sports have placements, so you can come in third or fourth place and still earn a comically oversized check. But most of the time, athletic competitions end with either an absolute winner or an absolute loser.

Stay positive. Look at the gorgeous Gina Aliotti.
Stay positive. Look at the gorgeous Gina Aliotti.

But life is not always like that. One smart kid earning an A+ on their spelling test doesn’t in any way, shape or form prevent other kids from earning a similar grade. Theoretically, every single kid in your class can earn a perfect score (logically, every kid could also earn an F). Yet when you’re the only one who earns the highest mark, why do the rest of the kids treat you with scorn? Why are you labeled a “smarty pants” or other such similar names? For whatever reason, too many of us have been taught that someone else’s gain will automatically result in everyone else’s loss. They can’t prove it, but they inherently believe that you earning the A+ means they’re left with the B- or C+ grades by default.

But life is not a zero-sum game. Seeing a strong, beautiful woman at the gym doesn’t mean you can’t accomplish the same thing. Nor does it mean she got there through some unfair advantage. Beauty doesn’t have to be a competition. Even if you aren’t gifted with a lot of natural beauty, I’ve written before that female bodybuilders earn their beauty in ways that their peers who hit the genetic jackpot don’t.

Some of the most beautiful female bodybuilders in the world have faces that aren’t traditionally pretty. Some are plain looking. Others might have faces that revolt you. But their bodies are breathtaking and deserve high praise. Regardless, one woman being beautiful doesn’t mean the woman standing next to her can’t also be beautiful. Life isn’t like that.

Perhaps this psychologically explains where envy is rooted in. We, for whatever reason, are socialized to believe that people who are successful make it harder for the rest of us to be just as successful. But this is a fallacy. Life isn’t about fighting over who gets the biggest slice of the pie. It’s about each one of us baking our own delicious pie, without any regard to what other people are doing. This may not be true in every facet of life, but we’d be better off if we all lived life in the positive rather than the negative.

  1. Envy keeps everyone down, even those who’ve reached the top

The last point is probably the most important. Envious feelings hurt everyone. Everyone. Including those who are the object of envy.

Call it “victor’s guilt.” Some people feel guilty for “winning” at life. A parent who has a healthy family might feel bad for their neighbor who can’t conceive a child no matter how hard they try. That same kid who earned the A+ on their spelling test might secretly tank their next test so that they could be more like everyone else. That rising star in the world of female bodybuilding may reduce her muscle gains so that she could encourage her less successful peers to feel better about themselves.

These reactions are understandable. They also reflect a larger issue when achieving the most you can becomes discouraged, or worse, taboo.

It goes without saying that there are many examples in life when someone’s gain truly comes at another person’s loss. But more often than not, this is not the case. Female bodybuilders are already stuck between a rock and a hard place (and I’m not just referring to their rock hard abs and firm glutes). They live a financially and emotionally draining lifestyle that’s receiving less and less support from their own industry, their own peers, the opposite gender and their own gender group. Perhaps this is a slight exaggeration, but perhaps it’s not. Either way, it’s hard out there for a female bodybuilder. The battles, both large and small, they have to face every single day is enough to boggle the mind.

If I went to the gym and saw Autumn Raby and Nadia Nardi posing like this, I'd probably have a heart attack. Oh boy...
If I went to the gym and saw Autumn Raby and Nadia Nardi posing like this, I’d probably have a heart attack. Oh boy…

How they manage to maintain their lifestyles and persist in pursuing their dreams is a testament to their inner strength, which is probably mightier than their physical strength. Not all of us are that mentally tough. Female bodybuilders are without a doubt that tough minded.

In conclusion, female bodybuilders create cognitive dissonance in our minds. Or more accurately, emotional dissonance. They spark feelings of envy within us that make us hate them even though we have no justifiable reason to actually hate them. Hate is often attributed to a lack of understanding. It’s also been described as irrational. Whichever it is, envy is at the root of all this. It is until we wrap our minds and hearts around this that we will be able to treat FBBs the way they should be treated: with great respect, not malice.

The best piece of advice I can give is to celebrate people’s accomplishments instead of dwelling on your own shortcomings, either perceived or real. This fortune cookie mantra could be applied to almost all aspects of our lives. Life is too short to hate on other people. Life is also too short to waste your time wishing you could be “better.” Who can really define “better?” This is not to justify mediocrity, but instead to point out the fact that it’s harmful to kick yourself over not being “perfect” or “better than XYZ.”

This is partly why I started my blog. I want to celebrate these beautiful women and their beautiful bodies. Not because I want to shame anyone or tear down anything, but because I want to focus on the positives in life instead of the deficits. We may not all universally agree that “envy” is a Deadly Sin, but we should agree that it tends to lead us in poor directions.

Cut out the frivolous negativity in your life, and good things will follow. And that’s a game we can all play and win.

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