female muscle – Page 9 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Kathy Connors: A Devilishly Sexy Muscle Siren

Kathy Connors showing off her gorgeous legs.

As far as female bodybuilders go, Kathy Connors isn’t for everyone. She isn’t traditionally beautiful, nor is she especially “feminine” in the mainstream sense of the word.

But for those who “get” Kathy’s appeal, one cannot help but be captivated by her unrepentant sexiness. Miss Connors may not carry the crossover appeal of ladies like Larissa Reis or Minna Pajulahti, but she doesn’t have to. Kathy is remarkable for many reasons; but one reason in particular that stands out is the way she’s forged her own path toward becoming a superstar within a very specific subculture.

Definitive biographical information is difficult to find, so here it goes: Kathy Connors was born on April 3, 1960 in Buffalo, New York. She began working out in 1980 at the tender age of 20 and competed in her first show a year later in 1981. She describes herself as being interested in gourmet cooking, biking riding, skiing, scuba diving, travelling, learning foreign languages, and exploring other cultures. She currently resides in New York City.

Her contest history includes the following, though this is probably not a comprehensive list:

1989 NE Florida – 1st Light & Overall

1990 East Coast – 1st Light & Overall & Mixed Pairs

1990 Southern USA – 1st Light & Overall

1990 Jr. Nationals – 2nd Light

1991 Team USA vs. USSR Exhibition

1992 Florida State – 1st Middle

1992 USA – 3rd Middle

1992 Jr. Nationals – 3rd Middle

1993 Nationals – 10th Middle

1996 NE USA – 2nd Middle

1997 Jr. USA – 1st Middle & Overall

1998 Nationals – 10th Middle

1999 Nationals – 6th Middle

2001 Florida State Championships – 1st Middleweight

2001 Nationals – 7th Middleweight

2002 USA Championships – 13th Middleweight

2003 USA Championships – 12th Middleweight

2003 Southern States – 2nd Heavyweight

2004 North American Championships – 8th Lightheavy

2006 North American Championships – 7th Lightheavy

2007 Florida State – Heavyweight and Overall Champion

2008 North American Championships – 9th Heavyweight

2008 Masters Nationals Heavyweight – Over 45 1st place

2008 Masters Nationals Heavyweight – Over 35 2nd place

2008 USA Championships Heavyweight – 7th place

2012 Teen, Collegiate, and Masters Nationals – 5th

Kathy is a rare breed who has enjoyed success in three different professional ventures: bodybuilding, powerlifting, and adult entertainment. Obviously, the latter is where the most amount of stigma exists. Doing porn, regardless of who you are or what kind you participate in, will cause people to look at you differently. Fairly or unfairly, pornography is still a taboo subject in our society, and those who produce pornographic materials are also by extension considered taboo.

Bodybuilding and powerlifting are also somewhat unusual professions, but they’re obviously not offensive to large swaths of society. Porn is.

I’ve heard that the porn stigma exists even within the bodybuilding industry, an assertion that may or may not be accurate. I’m sure it does to an extent, but I’m also sure there are plenty of people and decision-makers within the industry who either look the other way when a prominent athlete participates in adult films or doesn’t care one iota. Or maybe I’m completely wrong about this. Who knows?

Kathy can definitely sport a sexy black cocktail dress.

Regardless, balancing all of these endeavors is a challenge that not too many of us are equipped to handle. And not just attempt to do, but to do well. Kathy Connors may not be a superstar at any of these occupations, but she’s without question respectably accomplished with no reason to hang her head in shame.

Kathy is, as I alluded to before, not for everyone. I mean absolutely no disrespect when I say this, but she doesn’t have a pretty face. I wouldn’t say she’s ugly, but on a scale of 1 to 10 – 1 being Danny DeVito and 10 being Monica Bellucci – Kathy is probably somewhere in the 2-3 range. Yikes. Not impressive at all, if you ask me. But nothing to be ashamed about either.

However, part of that is what makes her so damn charming. Kathy isn’t blessed with a naturally beautiful face, but she’s still sexier than most women half her age. She’s reinvented herself to become an irresistible sex kitten through sheer willpower, strategic thinking, and business savvy.

In her adult-themed videos, Kathy usually takes on the persona of a pseudo-dominatrix who is tough, naughty, and takes no prisoners. She physically dominates her co-stars (male and female) but doesn’t abuse them in any unreasonable manner. Her shtick is to showcase her sexiness through power dynamics. She’s in charge…but doesn’t forget to please the people she’s lording over. She’ll show off her muscles in proud fashion…and will use it to get her co-stars off.

Whether she’s squeezing a man’s penis between her flexed biceps or allowing her male co-star to ejaculate all over her chiseled torso, Wild Kat (her online alias, for what it’s worth) will allow others to experience pleasure in exchange for the opportunity to show off her power and authority. She dominates not in a self-absorbed sort of way but rather in an altruistic fetishistic way. For Kathy, power is the ultimate aphrodisiac…when it’s used properly, that is.

So she’s not authoritative in the scary sense. She means no harm. At the end of the day, she wants everyone to be happy and go home with a big fat smile on their face. There’s a lot to be said for that.

Speaking of which, when watching her in action, one cannot help but notice her deep sultry voice.

Indeed, her voice is what makes her a sexy siren. In Greek mythology, Sirens were creatures who took human female form (sometimes bird form, depending on which version of the myth you buy into) and lured male sailors to their death through enchanting music and singing. A sexy body is one thing, but a sexy voice is quite another. The Sirens that Odysseus encountered in Homer’s The Odyssey were merciless beings who would not hesitate to devour whichever helpless victims were to pass them by. I don’t think Kathy is quite that devious, but her sexy hot voice is enough to lead me into certain death.

Yet another leg shot.

Her irresistible velvety voice is one of her best features. I could listen to her recite the phonebook for several hours and never get tired of it. Seriously, though. Miss Connors’ voice is unique for being unbelievably deep without sounding masculine at all. A remarkable feat, considering the negative stereotype pertaining to the idea that the sport of bodybuilding magically turns women into men. There’s not a single shred of evidence that this is even remotely true, but that’s a whole other story for another day.

Kathy should know that her voice is one of her biggest selling points. In addition to her muscles, Kathy’s speaking voice is enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. If it doesn’t do that, then you must be either hard of hearing or totally immune to her unique vocal charms. As rich as butter and as refined as fine wine, Kathy’s voice resonates deeply throughout her environment. She can make the ground shake with her rumbling vocal chords. Her dulcet tones are both surprisingly soothing and undeniably erotic. That’s a winning combination that’s hard to replicate.

Obviously, taking hormones will do that to her voice. That’s shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Her “natural” voice sounds much different. But as things stand now, Kathy Connors can verbally seduce a man – or more specifically, me – in a way that makes Kathleen Turner seem like an amateur.

When looked at from afar, Kathy Connors possesses three distinct features:

A homely face
A deep, traditionally unfeminine voice
Big muscles

How on Earth can a woman with these characteristics be considered tantalizingly sexy? It doesn’t make any sense. It defies all social norms. It goes against our conventional definitions of “beauty” and rules of sexual attraction. Even many female muscle fans prefer an unambiguously feminine woman with a traditionally pretty face. So what kind of person is attracted to a woman that even the most sympathetic female muscle fan finds hard to appreciate?

The answer to that question is simple: She’s confident in who she is and won’t apologize for being who she is.

Compared to Deidre Pagnanelli, Kathy has almost zero crossover appeal. Deidre has the gorgeous good looks of a supermodel and just enough bulk to put her in the “muscle chick” category. For hardcore female muscle lovers, Deidre might not be big enough, but at the very least they can appreciate her divine beauty and unique ability to capture the attention of “female muscle skeptics” across the globe. Kathy isn’t necessarily the epitome of every single negative stereotype associated with female bodybuilders (Nicole Bass and Maryse Manios come closer to that categorization), but she’s certainly not someone who can convert a non-believer into a believer overnight.

Yet, Kathy Connors has found a niche and is willing to exploit that niche to the best of her abilities. There’s a lot to admire about that. Kathy knows she doesn’t appeal to hundreds of millions of people. But she knows she doesn’t have to in order to be successful at what she does. She only needs a few thousand fans who are endlessly devoted to her and “get” her appeal. I am obviously one of those folks. I find her alluring, even though I completely understand why others might not feel the same way. Nor do I expect everyone else to feel the same way.

Kathy understands that if you’re willing to watch videos of her in action or to look at photos of her, then you must be already on her side. Therefore, she doesn’t feel the need to “earn” your interest. She already has it! And she’ll do whatever she can to keep your interest indefinitely.

She can even sport a bikini!

One other aspect that cannot be ignored is the “forbidden” nature of Kathy’s aura. As I mentioned earlier, Kathy isn’t a woman tons of guys (and gals) would normally be enchanted by. She’s not very pretty, nor is she conventionally feminine. We’re not “supposed” to like her. But we do! That sort of goes for most muscular women in this world, but Kathy is a rare exception in that even amongst already-converted female muscle fans, she isn’t considered the most popular FBB in existence. Thus, there’s the Forbidden Fruit element attached to Kathy’s identity.

We’re not supposed to admit that we’re attracted to Kathy Connors. But we are. We’re perhaps a bit ashamed to feel this way. We know it’s strange. We know we’re not supposed to be mesmerized by her. But we are regardless of what out gut tells us. Indeed, Kathy is a Forbidden Fruit. In the deepest recesses of our hearts, we know that we’d rather make love to her than Chrissy Teigen or Margot Robbie. We know the vast majority of society would tell us that we’re nuts. Our friends and family would look at us funny and probably would never look at us the same way. But that doesn’t stop us from feeling that way. Not at all.

Do I personally find Kathy Connors more desirable than Miss Teigen or Miss Robbie, two women whom no one would bat an eyelash if I said I’d love to ravish them all night if I could?

To be honest, yes.

Yup, you read that right.

Although, I’d choose Kathy 8 times out of 10 and choose the other two ladies the remaining two times. But that’s just silliness. Kathy is the Forbidden Fruit sitting next to a cornucopia of hundreds of other pieces of delicious fruit. I can easily choose the others with no judgement from my peers. Yet, I choose the one piece that will cause the largest number of people to raise their eyebrows at me. My head tells me to go with the supermodel or the Hollywood starlet. But my heart tells me to go with the plain-looking middle aged female bodybuilder with a masculine sounding voice.

Wow. How devious is Kathy? Think about it. It’s as though she puts herself out there and says to the world: I dare you to look at me with lustful eyes! I dare you to jerk off to me when you’re all alone and no one else is watching. I dare you to fantasize about me instead of any of the hussies half my age prancing around in their underwear on Instagram!

It’s almost like she’s playing a mind game on us. It’s psychological warfare conducted by an adversary whom you cannot stop thinking about. Kathy is so bold she considers it an act of defiance to strut around naked and show off her gigantic clit for the camera. She loves to talk to her audience and reveal her deep masculine voice to the public at large. She refuses to stay silent. She refuses to put on a hyper-feminine character that would help her reach a more massive viewership. She wants to be the anti-Margot Robbie who defies our traditional notions of beauty, youthfulness, and sex appeal.

Damn girl.

When we daydream about banging a hot chick in a back alley somewhere, Kathy wants us to fantasize about her being that hot chick instead of anyone else. She wants us to question our sense of “normalcy.” It’s not normal for a guy or gal to dream about having sex with a buff 56-year-old woman with an unattractive face and a man-like voice. Yet for many of us, that’s exactly what we do in the privacy of our own minds. Kathy has us in the palm of her hand and refuses to let us go.

Her defiance is what we love about her. She isn’t the type of woman who “should” do porn. Most women her age would be scared to death to expose their aging bodies like that in such a vulnerable manner. But she does. Most women who are insecure with their looks wouldn’t dream of allowing a camera to zoom in closely on their wrinkle-covered face while they masturbate, which is an act of extreme intimacy. But Kathy does. Not only does she dare to do such a thing, she challenges you to look away, knowing full well that you won’t.

Kathy doesn’t give a fuck that the crow’s feet around her eyes accentuates when she smiles for the camera. She also doesn’t give a rat’s ass when her booming voice causes your computer speakers to rumble like an earthquake. She doesn’t care about these things because she knows that if you’re willing to make it this far, then you’re willing to accept whatever she’s going to present to you.

This is why Kathy Connors is a devilishly sexy muscle siren. She’s someone we’re not supposed to like, but we do anyway. She has incredible assets, even though those assets aren’t appreciated by the vast majority of our culture. She won’t ever have mainstream appeal, but she doesn’t need it in order to thrive. She’s a muscle woman who understands why guys like me love her to death. She doesn’t care if out of one hundred people only three truly dig her. She’s going to stare deeply into the eyes of those three saps and jerk them off until they ejaculate all over her hard biceps, while the 97 others struggle to look away in utter disgust.

Kathy Connors is a rebel. She’s fiercely defiant and proudly unapologetic about who she is. To reiterate the opening line of this article, she isn’t for everyone. But she doesn’t need to be. She’s a grotesque muscle bitch who will dominate you both physically and psychologically. She refuses to hide anything about herself. She, in a metaphorical sense, stands in front of the entire Universe and gives everyone the middle finger while sticking her other middle finger inside her vagina and masturbates until she comes all over herself.

Kathy doing what she does best: looking irresistible.

She rebelliously shoves a camera right in front of her ugly face, deep wrinkles, big muscles, enlarged clit, and masculine voice and says “fuck you” to anyone who dares to look the other way. If you do look away, she won’t hesitate to grab you by the balls and squeeze until you cry for mercy. Even then, she might not actually give you mercy. Or she’ll torture you until you squirt hot semen all over her maligned face while she dares you to call her “pretty.”

If you do tell her that she’s “pretty,” she might relieve you from your pain. Or she might continue to torment you because you failed the test: You aren’t supposed to call her pretty. You’re supposed to acknowledge that she’s hideous. You failed because you aren’t turned on by her. But once you are, then you’re good to go. You finally “get it” now.

Kathy Connors might be an ugly muscle bitch, but she’s the Biggest and Baddest Muscle Bitch of All Time Who Deserves Our Undying Respect. If you mess with her, she’ll fuck your shit up and laugh as she watches you crawl away in defeat.

Yowza! The Biggest and Baddest Muscle Bitch of All Time Who Deserves Our Undying Respect?

You know what? I get the feeling that’s exactly how she wants us to describe her.

All I Want for Christmas is My Own Female Bodybuilder

All I want for Christmas is Dena Westerfield!

They say the holidays can be a miserable time for people who’ve recently lost loved ones or are experiencing broken relationships. For the first time in his life, Darren can empathize with this. It’s been almost three months since he and his wife decided to separate. But the pain is no less fervent today than it was when it was happening.

Thankfully, Darren’s two children are spending the Christmas weekend with him together. Tonight, they saw a performance of “The Nutcracker” by a travelling ballet company. It was marvelous. His youngest, 8-year-old Heather, fell asleep during the last hour of the performance. His oldest, 12-year-old Marcus, stayed remarkably captivated the entire time.

Who knew he’d become an enlightened patron of the arts?

Clearly, he takes after his mother.

The thought of their mother, a smart and strong-willed woman whom he met in college, spending the holidays away from her family elicits melancholy feelings inside Darren’s mind. The kids haven’t quite adjusted to the “new normal” yet. Neither has he. But as their father, he must remain resilient in the face of emotional chaos. He’s trying his best, but he knows it’s not going to be easy.

With the time nearing 10:30 in the evening, Darren, Marcus, and Heather quickly stroll back to their car in the hopes they can make it home in time for “A Charlie Brown Christmas” to air for the third or fourth time that day. But as they leave the performing arts theatre, Darren spots out of the corner of his eye a large water fountain.

“Wow, will you look at that! Isn’t that something?” Darren remarks aloud.

“Dad, can we just get home? Charlie Brown is on at 11!” Marcus pleads.

Darren reaches into his pocket and takes out a shiny new quarter. He looks at it and thinks to himself whether he should make a wish or not. He decides he should. Heather is a few hundred paces away marveling at an impressive toy train set that apparently won first prize at the city-wide Christmas decorating contest.

“Just a moment. I want to do one simple thing before we go.” Darren approaches the fountain. It’s more than twenty feet tall and features two dancing angels at top. Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony plays softly in the background. Occasionally, the fountain lights up and spews ice cold water thirty feet into the air. Impressive, indeed.

“What should I wish for?” Darren quietly asks himself. Wanting to get his mind off of his impending divorce, he thinks back to his days as a teenager ogling pictures of fitness women in bodybuilding magazines. He looks around to make sure his son and daughter (not to mention complete strangers who happen to be passing by) are not within earshot. They are not. So he places the quarter between his index finger and thumb and declares out loud:

“All I want for Christmas…is my own female bodybuilder!”

Marcus watches this unusual ceremony from a distance. He sees his father toss the quarter into the water, which makes a distinct plopping sound. Satisfied, Darren turns around and walks toward the parking lot.

“Alright, let’s get going! Charlie Brown is on in twenty-five minutes!”

“Woo hoo!” Heather cheers as she runs toward their minivan.

An hour later, Darren tucks his kids into bed and pours himself a glass of chardonnay. It’s Christmas Eve, which means tomorrow morning will be the day they enthusiastically open presents. He tries not to think about what the experience will be like with Samantha not in the picture. Oh well. That’s something for all of us to discover together, whether we like it or not.

Darren drains the wine, walks upstairs, takes a quick shower, and hops into bed.

At the stroke of 1:00 in the morning, Darren suddenly awakens. There is no sound, crash, or flash of lightning that prompts him to break from his peaceful slumber. But for whatever reason, he senses there’s something happening downstairs that needs his attention.

Double trouble: Brandi Mae Akers and Yvette Bova.

Does the cat need to be fed? Darren is pretty sure he remembered to put food in Laila’s dish before taking his shower. He peeks into Heather’s bedroom and sees Laila curled up underneath her bed. So that can’t be it! What the heck is going on?

Cautiously, Darren creeps downstairs and finds a baseball bat sitting around his sports-themed man cave. Darren doesn’t like guns, but he understands the importance of protecting his family from harm. Once he gets to the ground floor, he peruses around the kitchen to see if the glass door has been opened. It’s not.

“What the hell am I doing down here? I’m being paranoid…” he mutters.

Just then, Darren hears what sounds like paper rustling in the living room. He glides toward the location of the abrupt noise with the baseball bat perched over his left shoulder. Like a ninja stalking an unsuspecting victim, he switches on the light and looks around the room.

“Hello, darling,” a sensual voice calls out.

It takes a moment for Darren’s eyes to adjust to the light, but when they do he sees a surprising sight that makes him drop the baseball bat to the floor.

Lying on the ground underneath the Christmas tree is a gorgeous naked muscular woman.

“Uh, what the fuck is happening here? Who the hell are you?” Darren demands.

The woman remains on the floor, massaging her enormous calves against a candy cane dangling from a low-hanging tree branch. While shocked that a complete stranger would mysteriously find her way into his house, Darren feels an uncontrollable spark of sexual desire rise up inside him.

Sensually and like a hazy dream, the woman stands up and approaches Darren. Sure enough, she’s as ripped as any woman he’s ever seen. Standing at a modest 5’6”, the woman is covered from head to toe with large bulging muscles. Her chest as wide as a truck, shoulders as broad as a cruise ship, arms as thick as coconuts, and legs as round as watermelons, she’s incredibly muscular but gorgeous and feminine at the same time. Her breasts are flat, but nothing else about her could be described that way. Darren looks down at her clit and nearly suffers cardiac arrest from regarding its sheer size.

“I’m your wish. That’s who I am,” the woman responds.

“My wish?” Darren asks. He’s asking himself this question just as much as he’s asking her.

“Yes. You remember the wish you made at the water fountain? I’m your wish incarnate. I’m not real, but for the next hour I will be as real as chestnuts roasting on an open fire.” The woman sashays around the living room and flexes her gigantic muscles for him. Double biceps. Abs. Side pose. Hamstrings. She then flexes her glutes up and down, prompting Darren to collapse on the couch. What the fuck is this? Is this real?

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“My name is Morgan.”

Darren sits up straight and removes his old high school debate team tee-shirt. Morgan smirks at his impulsive decision to not ask questions and just go with the flow.

“Well, Morgan,” he begins. “Let’s not waste a single moment, shall we?”

He stands up and kisses Morgan on the lips. He reaches down and feels her rock hard body. Morgan squats down and pulls his underwear toward his ankles. As nude as she is, Darren caresses her firm butt as she stands back up. The feeling of her sturdy glutes is enough to wake up his manhood. The Mystery Woman notices this, squats back down, and covers him with her mouth.

“Oh, baby…the things you do to me…”

A gentle snowfall commences outside the comfortable confines of the crispy household. It hasn’t snowed in this area in fifteen years. Yet Darren doesn’t notice this historic feat. He’s too busy feeling up Morgan’s rock hard pecs to give a damn about what’s happening outdoors.

Morgan licks the underside of Darren’s penis as she continues to deep throat him. Not wanting to burst too soon, Darren gently moves his pelvis away from her face and wrestles her to the ground.

“You want to play rough? I can do that!” Morgan declares.

She grabs Darren’s wrists and pins him to the floor. His erect manhood pokes her in the belly. He swears he can feel the tip of his penis brush between the grooves of her six-pack abdomen. A soft moan escapes from his throat. Morgan then wraps her strong arms around him and gives him a powerful bear hug that pushes all the air out of his lungs. Unable to breathe, Morgan interlocks her strong legs around Darren’s legs and squeezes tightly. He struggles to catch his breath but is helplessly distracted by the feeling of her bowling ball calves pressed against his ankles.

“Do you like that?” Morgan asks. Darren mumbles something unintelligible. “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you!”

Morgan cackles and mercifully releases Darren from her oppressive embrace. She carelessly tosses him to the side like a rag doll and sits up against the couch. Darren rolls around for a bit and tries to catch his breath. He smiles and immediately stands up and picks her up off the floor.

“My turn to be in charge!”

A much stronger fellow than you’d expect, Darren slings Morgan over his right shoulder and slaps her on the butt. Her muscular glutes jiggle wildly in response. Morgan giggles in return.

Never in his life has Darren ever carried a woman who weighs so much. It’s definitely true that muscle weighs more than fat! He walks over to the far side of the living room and lays her down on top of a fluffy white shag rug. Morgan doesn’t resist. He wants to be on top and to end this the right way. Darren smooths his hands over Morgan’s tree trunk thighs and admires her gorgeous muscular physique.

“Oh my God. So beautiful. You’re huge and strong and absolutely gorgeous,” he says. Morgan suggestively opens her legs out wide and exposes her freakishly large clitoris. Darren gasps and nearly falls backward. Even though he’s seen it before, the shock of seeing it again doesn’t change his reaction one bit.

“Holy shit. It’s so big. So damn big.”

Morgan pinches her engorged endowment with her fingers and strokes it up and down. Initial waves of pleasure sweep through her body. Darren has moved on to caressing her calves but has not stopped staring at her enormous clit. Is it possible for a woman’s clit to get that large?

“Enough of this. Go ahead. Take a closer look!” Morgan stops stroking herself and enjoys the feeling of the soft rug tickling her hard leathery skin. Taking the hint, Darren gets down on his belly and inspects her impossibly large clit. Resembling a very little penis, Darren licks the sensitive head with a soft flick of his tongue. Morgan lets out an audible moan.

Empowered to go further, Darren encloses his lips around her erect shaft and sucks with delight. Morgan pinches her own nipples to enhance her experience. Her eyes closed, she wiggles on the floor with delight as Darren orally please her. Darren, meanwhile, doesn’t care if his kids can hear them fooling around next to the Christmas tree. As far as he’s concerned, Christmas has come early, no pun intended.

“Oooooohhhhhh, that’s it baby. That’s the way mama likes it…”

He knows she’s close by the sudden jerking of her pelvis. But he doesn’t stop and relentlessly presses his lips securely around her clit as he moves his head back and forth.

“Fuuuuuuccckkkkkkk!” Morgan screams at the top of her lungs.

Morgan comes, shockwaves of pleasure screaming throughout her entire body. She groans and keeps her eyes closed. Darren’s mouth is exhausted but he doesn’t relent until she stops writhing.

A brief moment later, Morgan opens her eyes and attacks Darren’s mouth by kissing him deeper than he’s ever been kissed before. She can taste her own juices dripping from his upper lip. Darren’s erection is now resting on top of Morgan’s left kneecap. She pushes her tongue inside his mouth and invades him. He counters by wrestling his tongue against hers. Having regained her concentration, Morgan pushes Darren backward and jumps on top of him.

“You just pleased me, now I’m going to please you.” Not complaining one bit, Darren lifts up her small breasts and lightly pinches her erect nipples. Methodically, Morgan lowers herself over his erection and allows him to penetrate her. Now, it’s Darren’s turn to moan. Like a cowgirl riding her prized stallion, Morgan bounces up and down with reckless abandon. Darren wants to keep his eyes focused on her pretty face but cannot. He shuts his eyelids tightly as she rides him with delight.

The snowfall outside is still going strong, even though Darren senses he won’t last nearly as long. Morgan deliberately moves up and down him by positioning her strong legs in a power squat stance. He knows he’s going to come. She also knows that she’s about to come again.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Morgan whispers to the Heavens.

“Ahhh, yeah!” Darren groans and empties himself into her. Morgan climaxes for the second time and rides him until her orgasm subsides completely. She falls on top of him and listens to his heart beating rapidly. Darren licks her bicep peak. She flexes to make sure it gets as hard as humanly possible. He removes his limp penis from her vagina and kisses her chest. Before he could suck on her nipples, Darren hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

Who wouldn't want to find a gorgeous female bodybuilder underneath your Christmas tree? — Who wouldn’t want to find a gorgeous female bodybuilder underneath your Christmas tree?

“Oh no!” Darren looks up to see if his two kids have been woken up by their noisy coupling and are rushing downstairs to investigate. But Morgan puts a stop to that nonsense and turns his head toward her face. She looks deeply into his eyes and kisses him on the cheek.

“It’s time to open presents,” she says. Suddenly, Darren wakes up and finds Heather, Marcus, and the cat jumping on his bed. He looks at his bedside clock and sees the time is 8:45 in the morning.

“Daddy! I said it’s time to open presents! Come on!” Heather leaps from the bed and races downstairs toward the Christmas tree. Marcus and the feline follow suit. Darren, groggy and still sleepy, sits up and looks out the window. Much to his surprise, he sees a remarkably burly woman dressed in a winter parka approaching his doorstep.

Darren gets out of bed and takes a closer look out the window. He wipes the fog on the glass with his sleeve. His eyes almost pop out of his skull once he realizes who it is.

“Oh my God!”

The unexpected visitor strikes an uncanny resemblance to the mysteriously sexy Morgan character from his dream. As if knowing she was being watched from above, she peers up, smiles at him, and knocks on the door.

Muscular Women in Still Motion

This old school photo of Cory Everson still gives us chills all these years later.

They say a photograph is a moment in time captured on film; one that can never be reproduced because such a moment will never happen exactly as it did ever again.

Well, today most photos are taken digitally from point-and-click cameras or cell phones. But the idea remains the same: The purpose of still images is to provide a snapshot of a particular moment in time and to allow the viewer – whether they see it a hundred days later or a hundred years later – to experience from a distance what the moment might have been like.

Maybe we’re talking about a photo from your kid’s 6^th birthday party. Or your father’s grand retirement celebration. Or when your mom won a prestigious community service award. Or when you and your buddies experienced your team winning the World Series. Or when your lovely partner finally said “I do.” The possibilities are endless.

That’s the inherent advantage between a still photo and a video clip. A still photo captures a precise moment in time. A video captures a stretch of time, which could last seven seconds or seven hours. Technically speaking, a video clip is more accurate in documenting reality while a photograph can be deceptive. How many times have we seen a nice photograph of a couple enjoying a night out on the town only to learn this couple tragically died in a fatal car accident only hours later? Or an image of a star high school athlete relishing in triumphant victory…but later his or her life is unexpectedly cut short after he or she is victim to a heartless shooting?

Thus, the beauty of photographs is that they encapsulate a specific moment without delving too deep into the context of said moment. Even if the subjects of the picture are moving around (as opposed to posing for the photographer), moments very rarely happen in stillness. Yet, a photograph is still. They don’t move or communicate motion. Think about those creepy turn-of-the-century black and white family photos where one of the “posing” members is a dead body. Don’t believe me? Look it up.

The subjects of photos appear to be not just still, but frozen in time. We see who they are instead of what they’re doing. It illustrates the poetic truth that time is not a continuous arc of events, but rather a series of individually poignant moments.

Except when it comes to female bodybuilders.

You knew I’d eventually get around to this subject, right?

For us fans of female bodybuilders, muscular women, athletes, fitness models, and amateur gym rats, the most prominent way we’re able to “experience” these women is through still images. Thanks to YouTube, social media, Vimeo, and other video sharing platforms we’re also able to watch them in action. But the most significant avenue through which we satisfy our female muscle fix is through good old fashioned still photos that we can view on our computer, phone, or tablet device.

What hides under the pasties being worn by Larissa Reis?

Back in the day all we had were fitness/bodybuilding magazines that we tried to purchase inconspicuously at the grocery store and hide under the bed away from prying eyes. Thank God for the Internet.

Recently, I had a bit of an epiphany while scrolling through a Tumblr blog dedicated to muscular and fit women. This blogger also posts photos of “normal” women – meaning they’re gorgeous but gorgeous within mainstream parameters. I began to notice something strange when seeing images of muscular women juxtaposed with images of non-muscular women.

The muscular women seemed to be more alive.

That’s an odd observation considering all the women featured on this blog are, uh living and breathing. No dead bodies posed to look like they’re still alive. But when you take the time and actually look at images of female bodybuilders next to images of non-muscular women, the contrast is both jarring and difficult to explain.

Their body language is nearly identical. Most modeling shots consist of the subjects (or “talent,” using industry parlance) sitting on couches, standing around, laying down provocatively, leaning against a wall or large object, engaging in a suggestive activity, or contorting their bodies in weird ways. Sometimes the subject looks directly at the camera, other times they pretend like there’s nobody in the environment with them. While FBBs will frequently pose for photos of them at the gym doing what they do best, for the most part what their non-muscular counterparts do they will do also.

So, what exactly do I mean when I say that female bodybuilders seem to exist in “still motion” when photographed?

More old school images: Laura Creavalle.

In short, there’s something inherently and inexplicably “active” about a muscular woman. Her muscles give her a sense of liveliness that isn’t present in women who aren’t muscular. A photograph of an FBB conveys energy, vivacity, and dynamism like nothing else. This isn’t true of all photos of female bodybuilders, of course. Ones taken in poor light, terrible conditions, or on a grainy cell phone camera obviously aren’t nearly as good as ones taken by a professional photographer (which goes to show you that the world still needs professional photographers, online photo “filters” be damned). I’m only referring to images that are produced with a certain degree of artistic integrity.

A lot of this has to do with how a woman earns her muscles to begin with. She didn’t get big and buff sitting on her couch eating potato chips and watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory. She earned her impressive physique through sweat, labor, supplementation, dieting, and making wholesale lifestyle changes. So because of this, when we see a still photo of a female bodybuilder, even if she’s not doing anything explicitly active, we know she leads a highly active lifestyle when she’s away from shutterbugs.

She’s constantly lifting, running, stretching, eating, cooking, drinking protein shakes, working, lifting, jogging, eating, lifting some more, eating a bit more, cooking more food that she’ll eat later, and lifting.

Did I mention that female bodybuilders lift weights on occasion?

The point is that female bodybuilders seem to be more active because they are more physically active than the average adult. So it makes sense that their proactive and demanding lives would transfer over to photographs taken of them, even if they’re just sitting down on a chaise or lying down in a frilly white bed. When you see her posing for the camera, you know in the back of your mind that she wouldn’t be in that position in the first place if it weren’t for her impressive muscularity.

That is, you wouldn’t be completely enraptured by her beauty unless she were as muscular as she is. She could very well be quite beautiful even if she didn’t have muscles, but it’s not the same thing. Not even close. A female bodybuilder’s muscles is what takes center stage when we look at her.

Sharon Madderson definitely jumps off the screen.

Yes, we know that muscular women are active in their everyday lives. That’s obvious. But that still doesn’t fully explain why they look like they’re ready to jump off the celluloid and into your lap.

Another reason is how surreal it is to actually look at a woman with big muscles. For as many years as I’ve been appreciating female bodybuilders, I still sometimes do a “double take” when I see a picture of a muscular woman unexpectedly. For example, not too long ago a friend of mine shared on Facebook an article talking about HIIT – or high intensity interval training. I don’t know whether this method is best for burning fat and staying in shape, but that’s not the point. The point is that the article featured a picture of a beautiful young lady with gorgeous curvy muscles. I was taken aback. My heart fluttered a bit. I felt a surge of energy run through my core.

Why did I suddenly react this way? I’ve spent countless hours watching and looking at hundreds of muscular women. Why did this “out of the blue” experience cause me to react as if I had just seen my first ever female bodybuilder?

It’s because it was unexpected and out of context. When I’m searching my usual lineup of blogs for pictures of beautiful muscular women, I know what I’m going to get. But if I stumble upon an image of one accidentally, it’s as though someone just socked me in the face. I think this is because at the end of the day, no matter how many hours I spend looking at images of muscle-bound women, my brain is preconditioned to produce a strong reaction whenever I witness them. I’m socialized to think of muscular women as being “abnormal” no matter how normalized they seem to be to me.

This is why muscular women appear to be suspended in still motion when photographed. My brain subconsciously tells me that this is unusual and therefore I should react accordingly. No amount of zombie movies will actually prepare you for a real-life zombie invasion. You can read all the post-apocalyptic themed fiction you want; if World War III is ever right around the corner (don’t be too surprised!) you’ll have no idea what to do next.

Likewise, you can watch thousands of hours of female muscle videos and meet dozens of FBBs for muscle worship sessions. Still, your mind will intuitively tell you that the sight of a woman with muscles is strange. Strange, bizarre, peculiar, irregular, atypical, odd. That’s not a product of how you personally view muscular women; rather it’s a product of the lack of muscular women in our society.

Anything that’s rare will stand out when it happens. Throwing a perfect game is so unusual that many baseball aficionados could probably name at least a dozen pitchers who’ve done it throughout the game’s history. And when it happens, it’s huge news. The same goes for muscular women. No matter how familiar you are with seeing FBBs, it’s still a memorable experience when it happens outside of normal parameters.

Unlike most amateur photographs, modeling shots are intended to capture the essence of the subject, not the moment. What a model is actually doing is not nearly as important as what they look like doing it. The same goes for FBBs who pose for model shots, but our reactions to seeing them are remarkably different. We don’t just see who they are. We also see their accomplishments, hopes, dreams, successes, aspirations, and passions. A muscular woman doesn’t just stand around and look pretty. She invades her space. She communicates a clear message to the viewer. She owns the frame. She doesn’t want you to just look at her, she wants you to react viscerally toward her.

See the difference?

Back in the glory days of the 90s, I’d surf the Internet and ogle photos of Pamela Anderson, Cindy Crawford, and Anna Nicole Smith. As an inexperienced teenager with raging hormones, I was introducing myself to a whole new world that I’d never known before: female beauty. It was an epic time of discovery. But even back then, I never experienced any sort of spiritual connection with the gorgeous ladies popping up on my computer screen. As odd as it sounds, I sort of feel that way with photos of muscular women. Sort of.

The lovely Elena Oana Hreapca rocking a sexy silver dress.

It’s as though photos of FBBs exist for purposes that go beyond that of normal photos of beautiful women. Cindy Crawford wants you to appreciate her natural beauty. Debi Laszewski wants to challenge your notions of femininity, gender roles, social stereotypes, and human biology. I don’t think these thoughts literally go through Debi’s mind as she’s posing for the camera, but that’s the sense I get when I look at her flawless visage. Pamela Anderson inspired hundreds of thousands of teenage boys – myself included – to masturbate in the privacy of their bedrooms. Cory Everson may have inspired similar reactions (though on a much smaller scale), but what she’s done that Pamela couldn’t is transform the way you view humanity: Women can be as buff as men – and look fabulous at the same time!

Muscular women can do that, even though many of them don’t intend to. They allude a degree of power and influence that most of them – including fans like us – don’t entirely comprehend. Hell, I’ve been writing about muscular women for nearly five years and even I continue to struggle to articulate this phenomena into words. Our love for female bodybuilders isn’t just rooted in good old fashioned lust. It’s also explained by our intrinsic desire to make sense out of a hectic and chaotic world. Muscular women, simply put, create chaos. How we adjust to that chaos is up to us on an individual level.

So that must be it. There’s the kicker. Muscular women create chaos in our brains. They cause our imaginations to spin out of control. They challenge our beliefs. They unleash our hidden impulses. They awaken our basest desires. They grapple our minds and refuse to let go, even for a moment. And this is something we don’t try to stop because we love every single minute of it. Isn’t that something?

Female bodybuilders appear to be in still motion because they’re perpetually active, even when they’re captured in a lifeless photograph. They activate our hearts, minds, and souls like nothing else can. In this respect, a photograph doesn’t just capture a single moment in time. It captures many moments, both those that have come and those that are yet to be.

As the old cliché goes, a picture is indeed worth a thousand words. But not just words that immediately come to mind, but also words that are yet to be written or conceived. When we stare at a still image of a beautiful muscular woman, we’re not just staring at her. We’re staring at ourselves. And others. And everything around us. All at the same time.

Please Don’t Be a Jerk

Who would want to be a jerk toward Margie Martin?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that none of the women whose photos are featured in this blog post are women whom I’ve met for muscle worship sessions. I have no idea if any of these ladies even offer such services. I’m just sharing their images because I love looking at pictures of strong beautiful ladies! Thank you.

***

It is not too often that I use this platform – and I suppose my blog can be considered a “platform” of sorts – to chastise anyone. Maybe it’s my upbringing, where “calling people out” in a public manner just isn’t encouraged. Or maybe it’s because I value my readers and I don’t want to offend them when it’s not totally necessary.

Regardless, when an issue comes up that I feel is important enough to give attention to, I will do it. Not because it’s my “duty” or anything like that, but because I have values and I respect female bodybuilders.

I’ve met quite a few female bodybuilders over the past half-decade. By my count, I’ve seen 13 female bodybuilders (a few I’ve seen twice) for muscle worship sessions since 2013. Naturally, I am a very curious person when it comes to these female bodybuilders. So I like to ask questions about their training regimen, eating habits, travel schedule, weird experiences meeting with clients, funny anecdotes, and anything else that strikes my fancy.

But, it is the “weird experiences meeting with clients” that often reveal the most enlightening bits of information.

Not surprising, people are strange. Some clients want a female bodybuilder to punch them in the face until their noses bleed. Others want a female bodybuilder to whip them with a long piece of leather until red marks appear all over their skin. One FBB intimated a story of a gentleman who received sexual pleasure from having broken lightbulb shards spread across his chest while she steps on him with her high heels.

Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

However, one consistent story I keep hearing about is idiot people who email/text with FBBs about setting up an appointment but have no actual intentions of doing so. The narrative is predictable: Someone emails an FBB who is planning to travel to their city. They exchange a few messages agreeing on the terms of the appointment. Finally, they agree on a date and time to meet. The day arrives…and voilà! This person is a no-show.

They might insist in a frantic-sounding text that they’re running late or are lost and will get to the hotel as soon as possible. But that’s just a pack of lies. They never show up and never intended to show up in the first place. Hell, this person may not actually live in the area. So the FBB is left without a client and $350 (give or take) that she thought she’d earn for her services but will not.

Talk about disappointing. It’s like being stood up on a date. But instead of having a broken heart or a wounded ego, you’ve missed out on an opportunity to earn some much-needed cash. Meanwhile, the person leaving the FBB standing on the proverbial altar probably has no clue how irresponsible and inconsiderate they’ve just been. No damn clue whatsoever.

And does this happen often? You bet it does. I don’t know exactly how often, but often enough that session providers need to take precautionary measures to ensure it doesn’t happen. But no matter how thorough you are, there will always be dummies among us who manage to flake out when the spotlight becomes too bright.

Hm. Why would someone do this?

One theory is that some people get a sexual thrill from merely communicating with an FBB. They find muscular women to be mysterious, alluring, and erotically exciting. I agree with all this, but that’s no excuse to be a jerk. These jackasses pretend like they’re interested in paying for a muscle worship or wrestling session but are only doing so because they think it’s appealing to exchange empty emails with them.

These are lonely and insufferable buffoons who give the rest of us a bad name. I once met an FBB for a session who told me I was her only client during her stay in Seattle. She’d been in contact with four or five other guys…but all of them bailed out except for me. If it weren’t for yours truly, she would have spent her entire trip alone in her hotel room and would have lost a lot of money on air fare and hotel expenses. I was embarrassed to hear that. I apologized to her for the stupid behavior of my fellow Seattleites. She was gracious and told me I wasn’t to blame for any of this. She was right, but I still felt bad for her.

I understand that FBBs are incredible women who deserve our attention, respect, and awe. But that’s no excuse for stringing them along just because you find it thrilling to text with them a few times. Is that how pathetic you are? Seriously? Please.

One FBB told me of a jerk who lied to her about wanting to set up a wrestling appointment happened to live 3,000 miles away from the city she was at! She was visiting the West Coast and this idiot lived on the East Coast but insisted he was “just outside the hotel lobby” and “would be knocking on her door at any moment.” Complete and utter BS. I got angry when I heard this. I cannot imagine how angry she was at the time when it was happening to her.

Another theory is that too many people intend to set up a legitimate session with an FBB and simply chicken out when the day arrives. Whether it’s for moral or psychological reasons, they can’t bring themselves to actually walk into that hotel, take the elevator up to her room, and knock on her door. Cold feet happens to the best of us, including blind dates, brides, grooms, potential bank robbers (remember the beginning of “Dog Day Afternoon?”), terrorists, and would-be presidential candidates.

I am less upset at people like this because they, in good faith, actually wanted to meet an FBB/wrestler for an appointment. I understand that it can be nerve-wracking. I understand for many people with certain social/religious upbringings, doing something like this can be a giant leap that sounds great from a distance but becomes less desirable when the moment of truth comes. We’re all human and we all come from different cultural backgrounds.

But one should be honest with themselves. If you don’t have the internal fortitude to follow through with your promises, you should be aware of this and act accordingly. There’s a reason why so many session providers request a deposit and/or references. They want to know if you’re legitimate. They want to know if you’re trustworthy. They want assurance that you’re not a flake. Most of all, they want to know if you’re worth their time and effort.

I get it. You regard female bodybuilders to be angels on Earth. Divine. Ethereal. Majestic. Supernatural. Out-of-this-world. Celestial. Heavenly. Goddesses. Immortals among mortals. And so on and so forth.

Guess what? They’re human beings just like you and I. For them, providing sessions isn’t just a hobby. It’s business. It’s how many of them make their livelihood. It’s part of their job. You’re probably aware that the vast majority of professional bodybuilders (male and female) cannot make a viable living just from winning contests. They need other reliable sources of income to pay for food, rent, transportation, and other necessary living expenses.

So when you flake out, that’s sort of like your boss telling you that the three hours of overtime you worked yesterday won’t show up on your next paycheck. Nor will it ever show up on any future paycheck. You basically worked for free. That’s three hours that you can’t get back. How upset would that make you?

But I think the “chickening out” factor is relatively small. I think the first reason is far more prevalent, but I could be wrong about this. People are so captivated by muscular women that they must communicate with them because it’s the closest way they can interact with them without actually interacting with them. It’s like celebrity worship.

No, it’s not like celebrity worship. It is a form of celebrity worship. Maybe not for the general public, but for those of us who love muscular women, FBBs are our celebrities. We treat them just like others treat pro football players, pop singers, movie stars, and charismatic politicians. The thrill you get from spotting your favorite actor at a shopping mall in Beverly Hills is identical to the thrill you get from receiving text messages from your favorite FBB.

Female bodybuilders encounter so many flakes they can all fit into a box of breakfast cereal.

That, however, is no excuse to waste their time just because you get your jollies exchanging e-mails with them in your spare time. Do you have any idea how many e-mail messages session providers are inundated with every single day? Enough that many of them probably need a part-time secretary to read and respond to them all. One FBB told me she can tell from how well (or poorly) an e-mail is written whether this person is legitimate or not. Messages that are impolite, badly written, chock-full of spelling and grammatical errors, and incoherent are most likely from people who have no serious intent of following through with setting up an appointment.

You know what? I can believe that 100%. More often than not, they’re probably right.

The lesson to be learned is simple: Don’t be a jerk. Please. For the sake of session providers, those of us who respect and adore FBBs, and for yourself, do the decent thing and don’t waste people’s valuable time. It’s sad that such advice needs to be dished out when it should be obvious to most of us. But that’s the world we live in. What is obvious isn’t, which makes it not so obvious, I suppose.

Let’s end on a more positive note. Whether we’re talking about interacting with female bodybuilders, your next-door neighbors, or your in-laws, not being a jerk is not enough. You should treat everyone with the same considerations that you would like to receive. Be nice, and the world will smile back at you.

Errrr, at the very least, I will smile back at you!

Female Muscle on Demand

I demand to touch the arms of Tonia Moore. May I?

It ain’t easy being a female muscle fan. But do we have it harder than fans of more “mainstream” interests? Maybe, maybe not.

Yes, sports fans have the offseason they need to endure for a few months every year before their favorite team plays meaningful games again.

Like tropical fruit? You can’t necessarily get great tasting pineapple or grapefruit year-round. Enjoy a perfectly cooked (i.e., rare) New York Strip steak? You can’t buy it too often or else the contents in your bank account will get too low. There’s nothing wrong with eating a scoop of ice cream before going to bed, but if you do it too often you might need to invest in new pants and belts. Not a good trade-off, if you ask me.

Being a fan of anything in life obviously has its drawbacks. The biggest one being you can’t always be satiated 24-hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. All good things must come in moderation. In fact, the best things in life should be enjoyed sparingly in order for the novelty to not wear off.

Yet, being a female muscle fan puts one in a whole other boat. What we love is especially rare (and I’m not talking about how you like your steak cooked). Muscular women comprise a remarkably small percentage of the world’s population. The number of muscular women who offer wrestling/worship sessions is even smaller. And the number of muscular women who offer sessions and are willing to travel to major cities across the world is smaller than that.

And, the people who are female muscle fans, live within close proximity of major metropolitan cities, and have disposable cash to pay for sessions are…you guessed it. Limited. Do you live in the countryside? Too bad. Do you live paycheck-to-paycheck and can’t afford $250 to $400 for an hour-long muscle worship appointment? Oh well.

Get the picture? It’s an issue of basic arithmetic. Wine aficionados can find reasonable quality vin at most grocery stores. Fans of classic movies can subscribe to channels that play Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford films seemingly on continuous loop. Even folks who are into kinkier stuff like BDSM can meet up with like-minded participants if they know how to do a basic Internet search.

But female muscle fans cannot experience their interests quite like the previously mentioned cohorts. Not by a long shot. Our tastes are more difficult to experience thanks to the simple principle of supply and demand. We have demands, but the supply is tragically short. Not inexistent, of course, but not readily available on the shelves like the newest iPhone or boxes of Wheaties.

I'd order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode. — I’d order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode.

At times like this, it makes one fantasize about having an app on your phone that delivers “female muscle on demand” much like how you can order a pizza, hail an Uber driver, or watch reruns of Game of Thrones on your big screen television. How would this hypothetical app work? Well, let’s put on our thinking caps for a moment and find out.

Let’s say you’re alone by yourself at home. Your significant other is away or your roommate is out painting the town red (whatever that means). You’re bored watching YouTube videos of animals doing tricks. You’ve run out of beer. It’s raining outside, so taking a leisurely walk is out of the question. The gym is about to close and the nearest bar just recently jacked up their prices on liquor. What are you to do with yourself?

You’re feeling “randy” but have no partner to help you relieve your pent-up tension. You can watch porn but that’s dull and mundane. Besides, most of it is complete garbage anyway. You’re secretly a fan of female bodybuilders, though. You love the feel of their rock hard muscles. You love playfully wrestling them and submitting to their superior strength. You want to touch their bodies and allow them to touch yours. You’re in a sensual mood and the only prescription is a big strong beautiful woman who’s ready to rock and roll. What do you do now?

Easy! You open the “Female Muscle on Demand” app on your smartphone and simply let its magic sweep you off your feet.

So, how would this app work? There are several possibilities:

One is for you to magically summon any female bodybuilder in the world to appear in the flesh (we’re going to ignore fundamental scientific laws here, in case you haven’t noticed) right before your eyes for only an hour or two. Do you want to hang out with Amber DeLuca? Simple! Just swipe the app (or tap the app, or however the darn thing works) and voila! Miss DeLuca will materialize out of thin air and you’ll be feeling her gorgeous pecs in no time.

Sucking on Angela Salvagno's gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me. — Sucking on Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me.

Could you ask for multiple real-life female bodybuilders to join your company? I suppose, but that’s still in the beta testing stage. Or maybe you can do that. Perhaps there’s a limit of ten FBBs per usage. Or fifteen. Or twenty. Or more than that. Who knows? Just make sure you have enough room in your cramped apartment to accommodate all these beautiful ladies.

So maybe you can ask Amber, Denise Masino, Lindsay Mulinazzi, Isabelle Turell, Brandi Mae Akers, and Lisa Cross to collectively join you for one hell of a sexy evening. Wow, that would be something else! I would download that app faster than a kid opening his presents on Christmas morning.

What would you do with these ladies in your living space? Well, I’m pretty sure you can adequately fill in the blank yourself. You can invite Deidre Pagnanelli over and treat her to a romantic candle-lit dinner of steak and lobster paired with a delectable bottle of fine wine. Or you can conjure up Victoria Dominguez and ask her to be your “mistress” for the evening who will act out every single naughty fantasy in your dirty little mind. Or you can summon Angela Salvagno and spend a few hours doing nothing but sucking on her big juicy clit. Or you could have all three over and engage in a full-out female muscle orgy where nothing is off the table. After all, it’s your app.

Oh boy. Yup, the scenarios you can come up with are sure endless!

Another possibility is for you to create a muscular woman from scratch. This option could be better than the first one – although that one is pretty damn incredible – because it really allows you to fulfill your fantasies to the max. You can choose from a long list of physical and personal characteristics and manufacture your own personal FBB who will be unique to your tastes.

Imagine that it’s like one of those mix and match monster flip books you used to peruse through when you were a little kid. You can assemble a beast with a centipede-like lower body with an orangutan midsection and the head of a serpent-goat. Or, the head of a tyrannosaurus rex with the midsection of a great white whale and the legs of a praying mantis. Whatever floats your boat. Remember being fascinated with those books growing up?

Wind the clock to the present day and imagine being able to do that with human flesh and bone. You can, with the tap of a few buttons, construct your very own female bodybuilder playmate to spend the evening with whenever you feel like it. Just open the app, find a spot with good Wi-Fi reception, and generate a woman with:

Biceps like Isabelle Turell
A chest like Theresa Ivancik
Abs like Cindy Landolt
A back like Jay Fuchs
Shoulders like Rene Campbell
A torso like Amber DeLuca
Glutes like Alina Popa
Legs like Tina Lockwood (back when she was in her peak condition, of course!)
Calves like Brenda Smith
A clit like Denise Masino
Labia like Angela Salvagno
A face like Deidre Pagnanelli
Sexy red hair like Lindsay Mulinazzi
Height like Maria Wattel (6 foot 2 inches)
A sultry deep voice like Kathy Connors
Intelligence and personality like Julie Germaine
“Bad girl” attitude like Brandi Mae Akers

Ooh. What a playmate she would be! Of course, the combinations are endless and everyone’s personal preferences will differ. And it may be more practical for the “Female Muscle on Demand” app to have a desktop version as well if we’re going to get this specific. Perhaps every user can have their favorite features “saved” so that the Female Muscle Aggregator (we’ll call this a sub-feature within the app itself) remembers what you like.

Just so we’re not being sexist, and in the spirit of accommodating as many genders and preferences as possible, there could also be a “Male Muscle on Demand” counterpart that ladies (and men who like men) can also utilize. Or maybe this is all consolidated in one app known as “Muscles on Demand.” Whatever works, I suppose.

Another option that users have is to customize which race/ethnicity you happen to prefer. Like Caucasian muscle? Ebony muscle? Asian muscle? Latina muscle? Middle Eastern muscle? Or a combination of a few of these? Well, I wouldn’t be against our hypothetical users having this option when navigating through our miraculous digital sexual fetish service.

Jay Fuch's sexy back? Yes, please! — Jay Fuch’s sexy back? Yes, please!

Well, well, well. This would certainly make being a female muscle fan much more fun. Come to think of it, this would go over well with people of every fetishistic color and stripe. Your “Muscles on Demand” creation could wear sexy frilly underwear, a kinky BDSM outfit (with the expected ensemble of handcuffs, whips, and chains), a revealing beach bikini, a Catholic school girl’s outfit (I won’t judge if that’s your cup of tea), a classy white slip, or a sensual black negligee. Maybe this is where users can actually suggest and design outfits that fulfill their deepest and darkest erotic fantasies. User-generated content is the wave of the future, is it not?

It sure is. So is the ability to customize whatever you damn please right up to the most minute detail. If you want your Muscle Fantasy to have big brawny arms, you can customize her biceps to be 18 inches in circumference…or 14 inches if you don’t want her to be that muscular. Or 20 inches if you don’t care about realism. Yikes. That could potentially get out of hand real quick. Once you go down this road, you could technically create a Dream Muscle Woman who defies scientific limitations and really gets your juices flowing (interpret that as you will).

But, what would the experience actually be like once your Muscle Fantasy is right before your eyes? Well, obviously it would be awesome for this person to look, feel, and sound like a real person.

Unlike virtual reality, the experience of meeting your Muscle on Demand playmate will be just like actual reality, not similar to existing inside a vast three-dimensional video game. So basically, it’s like a genuine muscle worship/wrestling session except you don’t need to travel, shell out $350 or wait around for a premiere FBB to come to your area.

Thus, one moment I could be sitting on my couch watching a soccer game I don’t care about and the next I could be feeling up Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous naked body. My head is jammed between her strong legs, sucking on her beautiful big clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. After she’s had enough climaxes, she returns the favor by flexing her enormous muscles until I am able to touch every single inch of her. Then, we make sweet love until we come together one final time. I empty myself into her, we kiss, we chat for a few moments, and she disappears until I choose to summon her again.

All this time, the real Angela Salvagno is peacefully enjoying her own life wherever she happens to be, totally unaware of what I just experienced with her avatar. So what happens between me and her digital self is nobody’s business except for…mine. She’s completely oblivious of my evening spent with “her,” as is the rest of the world. Because the version of Angela Salvagno I just made love to doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a realistic avatar conjured from my trusty app.

Ah, yes. How I wish this could come to pass! Alas, such a thing is not physically possible. Perhaps this is a product of my longing for something that’s not easily attainable. Or maybe a sign of the times; that we live in an age where what we want must be available to us immediately or else. I consider myself a patient person, but female muscle is so irresistible how can it not drive you crazy knowing you have to wait five to six months and spend a whole week’s worth of wages to be able to get your fix? I’m not a “female muscle junkie” by any stretch of the imagination, but what you desire is what you desire for a reason.

Why must beautiful women like Julie Germaine be so scarce?

Muscular women are sure scarce. However, as short in supply as they may be, they are available if you have the time, resources, and proximity necessary to meet them one-on-one. Then again, maybe this is part of their charm. Maybe the agonizing wait times and the steep price of admission are partly to explain why I find FBBs so alluring. I often wonder what it would be like if more “everyday women” were as muscular as competitive bodybuilders (or in this particular case, what it would be like for female muscle to be accessible to me on demand). Can you imagine how splendid it would be if you took the bus to work and 30-40 percent of the women riding with you had arms as big as Yaxeni Oriquen-Garcia? Whoa! Talk about living in a surreal parallel universe.

But, I am not so naïve to believe that my love for muscular women would not change one iota. Maybe the scarcity of big buff women is one of the chief reasons why I love them so darn much. If they were as common as 30-something hipster women in Seattle wearing Uggs and gray wool hats, I probably wouldn’t care as much if I saw one up close. Hm. Is that really true?

Maybe it is true. Or not. Either way, there are benefits to certain things in life being readily available “on demand” or “pretty damn close to on demand.” Clean water would be one example. Electricity would be another. On the other hand, as difficult as this may be to comprehend, certain things in life are better when they’re experienced infrequently.

The eager anticipation, butterflies in the stomach, ache of seeing your bank account slightly diminish, fluttering heartrate, joyous times of the experience itself, and the warm fuzzy memories you have of your time together are all part of the packaged deal. If these things happen too often I can see how they could lose their magic touch.

So for now, Female Muscle on Demand only exists in the wild recesses of my imagination. I can wager a guess that it also exists in the minds of many of my dear readers – or at least it does now. There may come a time when virtual reality becomes so technologically advanced that it can seamlessly mimic real life, but we are not quite there yet. I have no doubts that we may one day reach that pinnacle, but that day is not today. Many hurdles must be jumped over first before we can even begin to have that conversation. But that shouldn’t stop us from pondering those delicious “what if” questions.

What if <insert fantasy of your choice> were possible? Oh my goodness, the possibilities are endless, aren’t they?

Bridgette – Midnight Rendezvous (part five)

Sipping on a cold vanilla latte, it’s been two hours since Sean left the party. He found a late night coffee stop several blocks away from the Convention Center and decided to stop in for a caffeine injection.

His vanilla latte tastes okay, but he wasn’t looking for taste. He was looking for a place to sit around until he can be reunited with Beautiful Bridgette. Their previous coupling didn’t drain the energy out of his system. On the contrary, it filled him with more passion than ever before. He craved to be with her again. Her musky smell. The feel of her taut skin. Her gorgeous face. Her rock hard muscles. He needed every inch of her. He felt like he could scream with frustration at not being able to be with her at this moment.

How is this possible? Is be becoming obsessed with her? Sean considers himself to be a reasonable man. He knows obsession can lead someone down a dangerous path. He has no desire to become someone like that; someone who lets their uncontrollable lust overpower them. Sean would like to think he’s more level-headed than that.

He quickly glances at his phone. It says it’s 11:40 p.m. His battery is at 28 percent, just enough to last him for the rest of the night. He figures it will become dead at 2 a.m. or so. All he needs is to receive that magical text from her. That would make him the happiest man in the world.

Minutes pass. Sean finally finishes his bland latte. He tosses the paper cup into a nearby recycling bin. The grumpy old barista who’s working the graveyard shift smirks at Sean’s demonstration of environmental stewardship. Sean gives an obligatory smirk back. He decides to shift his attention away from Mr. Tattooed Barista and stares at the late night traffic. It’s surprisingly busy considering it’s nearly midnight. It must be attendees of the bodybuilding competition going home for the night. That must be it.

His phone then buzzes. His heart stops momentarily. He checks his phone. It’s a text. From Bridgette! It reads:

Hi darling! It’s me! I’m finally back in my room. You know which hotel. I’m in room 1245. Come on up! Can’t wait…lol

She’s right. He does know exactly which hotel she’s staying at. Sean doesn’t hesitate for a moment and skips out of the coffee shop to head toward his next destination. Her hotel room. He doesn’t quite know what to expect, but he’s certain he’ll treasure it for the rest of his life. The human mind has a funny way of remembering key moments. Sometimes, it’s the anticipation of a momentous event you remember more than the actual event itself. Perhaps this is one of those instances. Or not.

Moments later, Sean is strolling into a quiet hotel lobby. He seeks out the elevators as inconspicuously as possible. He eyes a row of metal doors and speed walks to it. He pushes “up” and waits. The doors open. He allows a flood of drunken tourists to pour out. As loud and obnoxious as college kids on spring break, he’s glad to walk inside and have the elevator all to himself. He pushes “12” and watches the doors close in front of him. He arrives on the 12^th floor faster than he’d expected. Whoa! These elevators travel up really damn fast. Sean is genuinely impressed.

Sean gets lost for a bit, but eventually finds room #1245. Butterflies are swarming inside his stomach. He can’t figure out why. Why is he still as nervous as a schoolboy to see her? It’s not like Bridgette is a total stranger. He knows her! But for whatever incomprehensible reason, he still feels anxious to meet her. It must be this unbreakable spell she’s cast over him. It’s forcing him to act irrationally. He knocks on the door. The door quickly opens.

“Hello. Good evening. Come on in,” Bridgette greets him. Dressed in sweatpants and an old workout undershirt, Bridgette looks as though she’s just showered. Wearing no makeup and none of the elegance she exhibited earlier in the evening, Bridgette still remains as beautiful as ever. She’s dazzling to behold. Her white undershirt generously shows off her muscles. Sean sees a travel-friendly pull up bar set up on the far side of the room.

“I’ve been doing pull ups for the past 20 minutes before you got here. Today is back day for me, but I haven’t had time to get to a gym because of all the bullshit I had to get done earlier,” Bridgette says. Sean notices the sweat dripping down her flawless face. He removes his shoes, jacket and places his phone, wallet and keys on top of a maple wood credenza. Bridgette leaps up, grabs the pull up bar, and astonishingly busts out 15 repetitions before plopping down back on her feet. Sean feels a tingling sensation dance through his system.

“How on earth can you do that?” Sean’s legs quiver underneath him. He isn’t sure if he’ll be able to stand up straight for much longer.

“Practice makes perfect, right?” Bridgette grabs a white towel off the credenza and wipes a drip of sweat off her brow. She looks at Sean and knows she has him in her grip. Not one who frequently enjoys wielding power over people, Bridgette occasionally does get an adrenaline rush from maximizing her sexuality to her advantage. Throughout her adult life Bridgette has realized, not in a narcissistic way, her looks give her power over men (and women). She’s tried to remain humble, but that power can be intoxicating at times. She agrees that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

“Practice? More like hard work. You look incredible, Bridgette. But you already know that.”

“Please. I just got out of the shower. My hair is dripping wet and I haven’t an ounce of makeup on. I probably look like a disaster.” She leans in and kisses Sean. She catches him mid-breath, causing him to gasp. When their lips part, he places his hands on her curvy hips and strokes up and down.

“Stop it, Bridgette honey. You don’t look anything like a disaster. You look so…” She places her index finger against his lips. He hushes up. Bridgette suggestively sticks her finger inside Sean’s mouth and he obediently sucks on it.

“I’m kidding. Do you like how that tastes? What do I taste like?” She removes her finger from his mouth. He comes to her and nibbles on her earlobe.

“Sweet as honey.”

“I like that analogy.” Bridgette sits down on the bed and takes a drink of water from her water bottle. Sean plops himself down on a nearby chair. They say nothing for several moments.

“You don’t like crowds all that much, do you?” she inquires.

“I don’t. I’m not claustrophobic or anything. There’s something about big crowds that make me nervous. I feel like I don’t matter, that I’m just an ant marching up a hill along with millions of other ants. I cease to be an individual. Am I crazy for feeling that way?”

“No, not at all. I think I know what you mean.” Police sirens roar by. Bridgette takes another swig of her water.

“But you’re not in that situation. You were the center of attention. All eyes were on you, my dear.”

Bridgette spreads out across the bed and smothers her face into a pillow. “Yeah, which gets exhausting as hell. I love the spotlight, but not quite like that. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” Sean jumps out of his chair and lands on top of Bridgette. He kisses her on the neck and caresses her massive quads. She strokes his hair.

“You mean you couldn’t wait to go outside with me and do it in front of all those people!” Sean gets bold and reaches into her panties and strokes her clit. It’s already engorged and moist. Bridgette not only allows him to do this, she gasps in response.

“Oh God! You’re getting frisky, Sean!” Pulling his fingers away from her cleft, Sean kisses her lips and lifts her dirty workout shirt off her and tosses it across the room.

“I was sure frisky with you on that balcony.”

“You sure were, dirty boy. I still can’t believe we did it out in public like that. What the fuck were we thinking?” Not to be outdone, Bridgette cups his balls and feels Sean’s erection. She begins to unzip his pants as he pinches her taut nipples.

“We weren’t thinking. That’s the point. We just did what we felt like.” Sean kicks off his pants and rips off his underwear. Bridgette pinches the base of his erection as Sean removes his shirt. Now completely nude, he seeks to make sure she becomes the same way.

“Are we doing the same thing?” Bridgette asks.

“Yes, except with a little bit more privacy,” he says. “Check that. A lot more privacy.”

“Indeed!”

Bridgette slips out of her sweatpants and removes her panties. She lobs them at Sean’s face and he smells it deeply, taking in her feminine musk. Sweet perfume, as far as he’s concerned. She playfully shoves Sean onto the bed and poses for him. Double biceps. Front lat spread. Side chest. Side triceps. Abdominal and thigh. He can clearly see every muscle fiber on her immaculate figure. She sure knows how to entertain a crowd!

“Flawless, dear Bridgette. Absolutely flawless. You are a spectacle to behold.” Sean feels his erection poke his bellybutton. That’s usually a sign he’s aroused far beyond normal. Bridgette definitely knows how to drive a man crazy.

“You haven’t seen a spectacle yet,” Bridgette warns. She sashays toward the light switch and turns it down to 25 percent. The room dims to a romantic dark orange glow. Bridgette then walks to the curtains and opens them wide, letting the bright moonlight flood the darkness. Sean makes his way toward her.

“What else do you have in mind?”

She turns around to face him.

“Let me show you.”

Bridgette swoops in and lifts Sean onto her shoulders. She playfully tosses him onto the bed and lets out an animalistic roar, loud enough for the entire floor of guests to hear. He laughs at her silliness, but quickly discovers she isn’t messing around. Bridgette jumps on the bed and mounts him. Wrapping her strong legs around his torso, she strokes his penis up and down and never breaks eye contact with him. Sean holds his breath in hopes of delaying his gratification. Like a hungry lion stalking its prey, Bridgette squats down onto Sean’s penis, allowing him to penetrate her. They share a collective moan at the moment of their intimate joining.

Unapologetic and as violent as he’s ever seen her, Bridgette rides him with a level of ferociousness that borders on maniacal. He knows he’s going to come faster than he’d like. Bridgette also senses her impending orgasm, and lowers herself to kiss him in hopes of postponing both of their climaxes for as long as possible.

Their lips meet. He bites her lower lip. She feels pain, but enjoys it. She returns the favor and bites his tongue. Sean tastes her sticky saliva but doesn’t mind it at all. They kiss once more before Bridgette’s final thrust fiercely pushes them both over the edge.

Sean groans as he empties himself into her. Bridgette also climaxes as her pelvic movements slow down methodically. He feels her vaginal walls contract powerfully around him. Bridgette, completely sapped of energy, collapses on top of him. They kiss again, this time deeper than before. She giggles. He exhales with satisfaction. Their first coupling of the evening comes to a glorious end.

A comfortable bed to sleep in...and do other things. — A comfortable bed to sleep in…and do other things.

Bridgette couldn’t remember if she drifted off to sleep, but she finally opens her eyes and looks at the bedside clock. It reads 1:45 a.m. She listens closely to Sean and decides he is quietly snoring. His snoring stops as he too awakens.

“I love you, Bridgette.”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken to me before,” she says.

The lovers fall asleep together again.

Two hours later, Sean wakes up to the sound of Bridgette flushing the toilet. He looks at the clock and notices it’s almost a quarter to 4. The night is still dark, perhaps at its darkest. There is enough moonlight to allow him to fully regard her striking beauty.

“God, you are amazing. A true goddess.” Sean sits up in the bed and stretches his arms. Still naked, Bridgette falls to the floor and does 50 pushups. Watching her exercise makes Sean’s heart skip a beat. His erection returns, much to his gratefulness.

“I’m just doing pushups, not summoning a storm or shooting lightning out of my fingers.” Bridgette sits up on the floor and mimics firing electrical bolts out of her hands. Sean pretends to get shocked and falls down on the floor next to her.

“You’ve got me, Goddess. I shouldn’t have displeased you!”

Sean feels the soft rug underneath his skin. “Wow. This is so damn soft. I could sleep down here if I have to.”

“You should. I don’t know where the hotel got it, but I definitely want to steal it.” Bridgette touches the rug with her bare skin and lets out a subtle sigh. She didn’t grow up from a wealthy family, so staying at these hotels is the closest she gets to experiencing the life of luxury. As a pro bodybuilder and part-time pornographic actress, she barely gets by paying her bills month to month. Sean doesn’t have that problem, but he sympathizes with her.

“Do it. I won’t tell anybody.” Sean licks the back of Bridgette’s neck and caresses her firm butt. She rolls to her side and flexes her left arm. Sean kisses her bicep peak. His erection pokes Bridgette in her belly, the tip of his penis bouncing off her six-pack abdomen. He inhales to keep control. Bridgette twists her body toward him and wraps her strong legs around his torso. She playfully squeezes, stealing his breath. Sean attempts to push her bowling ball calves out of the way but fails to counter her impressive strength.

“You’re not getting away that easily, I can tell you that!” Bridgette smiles. Sean can only smile back.

“I have no intention of going anywhere darling,” he says.

She mercifully releases him and spreads her legs out wide. Sean lays a trail of kisses that start at her feet – Sean isn’t a “feet” kind of guy, but he’s willing to change his mind! – and ends at her inner thigh. Sean still cannot believe how incredibly thick her quads are. He bets she could crush a watermelon between her legs if she wanted to. Odds are she’s done feats of strength like that before.

“Well, if you don’t plan on going anywhere, you might as well please me until I beg you to stop.” Bridgette’s innocent smile turns to a devilish grin. Sean knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Angela Salvagno being her usual sexy self.

Sean levels himself and places his fingers between Bridgette’s engorged clitoris. She lets out a modest moan in response to his touch. He dips down and places his entire mouth over her pubis region, his tongue meeting the ultrasensitive tip of her large feminine endowment. Sean purses his lips around her clit and strokes her as his tongue laps the head. He can sense her squirming uncontrollably. Her eyes are closed. She’s doing nothing but enjoying the gratifying sensations running through her entire body.

Bridgette can feel heat rising out of every pore. She doesn’t just feel pleasure; she feels an intense love for a man whom she met randomly on a street corner in the suburbs as part of her job. Memories of their first encounter and riding with him to the luxury condo where they filmed their love scene come flooding back like a tsunami. She’s about to come but her physical experience is the last thing that’s on her mind.

Sean intensifies his oral motions as he notices her writhing more. An audible gasp escapes from her lips just moments before she hits her satisfying climax. Wanting her to enjoy this moment like nothing else before, Sean jabs his tongue inside her throbbing vagina right before jerking her clit off with his fingers. Her meaty labia are slick with moisture. Bridgette raises her pelvis in anticipation of her climax.

Finally, she comes and her entire body shudders. She even releases an involuntary fart as her vaginal walls contract. Sean tries to suppress a giggle but cannot help himself. Minutes later, still basking in the glow of a satisfying orgasm, Bridgette sits up and kisses Sean’s lips – the same lips that gave her immeasurable pleasure just a few moments ago.

“Thank you lover.”

That’s all she can say. Sean doesn’t need her to say anything else.

Instead, Bridgette responds with actions instead of words. She picks up Sean like a rag doll and plops him onto the bed. Then she proceeds to put her mouth over his entire penis. She gently strokes his scrotum as she covers his entire manhood with her warm saliva. Sean looks up at the ceiling and tries to take it all in. He peers out the window and sees the full moon staring back at him. Like a werewolf eating its prey, Bridgette consumes his erection with reckless abandon.

As she laps her tongue around his sensitive endowment, Sean groans loudly. That’s the cue she needs to know he’s close. One last squeeze of his testicles does the trick, as she feels Sean’s penis contract up and down. His hot semen shoots into her mouth. Without being prompted, she generously swallows it all. Even more generously, she cleans up his deflating penis with her tongue and a tissue she finds on the credenza. She throws the smelly tissue into a trashcan. Bridgette doesn’t normally like the taste of semen, but as far as she’s concerned Sean’s juices taste like sweet dessert to cap off a romantic evening.

The time is now 4:18 a.m. Totally and utterly spent, Sean and Bridgette fall asleep into each other’s arms without a damn care in the world.

Karen Zaremba: My Sentimental Favorite

Hand bras are the worst!

Every female muscle fan has “the one” who truly made them see the light. It’s not necessarily the first muscular woman they ever saw or the one they would consider to be their favorite. Personally, the first FBB I ever noticed was Lisa Marie Bickels, a former U.S. Marine who caught my attention more than ten years ago during my college years.

My current favorite is Denise Masino, a devilishly sexy siren with an endowment between her legs that can only be described as scrumptious. Miss Bickels isn’t close to being a favorite of mine and Miss Masino is someone I discovered later on. Thus, the subject of the woman who played a crucial role in my “female muscle awakening” is none other than Karen Zaremba.

Karen Zaremba was born on January 27, 1964 in Detroit, Michigan. Back then, Detroit was deserving of its nickname of The Motor City and the breeding ground of some of the most recognizable names in American pop music (Motown, anyone?). Today, Detroit resembles a Third World country, but that’s another story for another day. On that fateful day in the heartland of America, the world was introduced to a gorgeous young lass who would one day grow up to become one of the sexiest female bodybuilders the Universe has ever known.

Today, Karen resides in Clinton Township, which is less than 30 miles north of her birth town. So Karen didn’t scurry too far from the crib, as it were. I suppose there’s no reason why one should move far away from home unless there were extenuating circumstances. If you like where you live, why not stay there? Karen and her family obviously feel this way.

Like many beautiful female bodybuilders, Karen is the mother of two children and is happily married. Evidently, she never had any problem balancing her work/home life with her chosen profession of being a competitive bodybuilder and fitness model. Standing at a modest 5”2” and weighing 124 pounds (give or take), she describes herself as a “stay-at-home Mom” when she isn’t working in the fitness industry. Of course, many of the interviews that I’ve used to curate this information are several years old, so take this with a grain of salt.

Love those abs!

From what I can gather, Karen no longer competes and probably doesn’t participate in bodybuilding anymore. Like many FBBs, details about their personal lives are scant, making it a challenge to paint a complete picture of what she’s like. I am confident that whatever she’s doing now, she’s probably happy with her life and wouldn’t want things to be any other way.

Her contest history is as follows:

2007 – Europa Super Show: 8^th place, Lightweight

2006 – IFBB Motor City Pro Figure: 16^th place

2006 – IFBB Pittsburgh Pro Figure: 16^th place

2005 – NPC National Figure Championships: 2^nd place, Class A (earned her IFBB pro card)

2005 – Junior Nationals: 3^rd place, Class A

2005 – Junior USA: 3^rd place, Class A

2004 – Central States Figure championships: Short Class, Masters and Overall Winner

2003 – Michigan Novice Bodybuilding championships: Lightweight, Masters and Overall Winner

Of course, this might not reflect her full contest history, but my quick bit of Internet research reveals that this is pretty comprehensive. If you know of any further contests that Karen has participated in, please do not hesitate to let me know in the comments below.

As one can clearly see, her contest history isn’t remarkable or noteworthy. Pretty standard for someone who loves to compete but isn’t too committed to becoming an elite competitor. This is not meant to be a slight against her. This is just to say that when she was a competitive bodybuilder, she wasn’t someone you would have associated as being the best of the best.

Poetry in motion.

She came, she saw, she…participated. Her accomplishments are as modest as her objectives. She didn’t aim to be better than everybody else; she just wanted to see what she could do. Many competitors (both male and female) are not necessarily “in it to win it.” Many are in it for no other reason than to have fun, challenge one’s self, and meet new people while trying new things.

That’s an attitude we need to see more in our world.

But that’s not why she’s a sentimental favorite of mine. I discovered Karen in 2005 or 2006, so in other words a solid decade ago. Back then, I would have been 18 or 19 and Karen would’ve been 41 or 42. Think it’s unusual for a boy in his late teens to completely fall in love with a woman who’s more than twice his age? A woman who is nearly old enough to be his own mother? I certainly thought so at the time, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong or abnormal about it.

Why was there nothing unusual about this? Well, have you taken a good look at her?

Yowza!

Karen is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She has an authentic look to her that’s difficult to explain but easy to see. Her dark hair is beautifully complemented by her olive complexion, a skin tone that perfectly accentuates her muscles. She’s legendary for her six-pack abdomen, which she is not shy about showing off to the camera. I briefly went through a stage of having a six-pack fetish. Can you possibly guess why?

Facially, she doesn’t look like a cookie-cutter Playboy Playmate or a nameless fashion model you see plastered across shopping mall corridors. It’s too clichéd to say she looks like the “girl next door” or the “hot mom next door,” but it’s sort of true!

What initially struck me about Karen, and it still strikes me today, is how effortlessly sexy she is. When she walks, her hips poetically bounce in a way that can make your heart stop. She’s very feminine, so much so you forget that all those negative stereotypes about female bodybuilders even exist. Of course, she’s a mother – which allows her to be called a certain idiotic acronym that I refuse to mention on this blog. Personally, I find muscle moms appealing, but there are certain misogynistic levels I refuse to lower myself to.

Baby got back!

Perhaps that’s at the root of my attraction to Karen Zaremba. She’s a muscular woman who transcends the “muscle chick” fetish. She isn’t just “beautiful for a female bodybuilder,” she’s “beautiful…period, end of story.” Karen forced me to view muscular women through a different lens. No longer were all FBBs big, oversized masculinized “women” who’ve vehemently rejected traditional femininity and womanhood. I may not have felt exactly that way toward FBBs at the time, but my worldview was limited during those years. Karen encouraged me to expand my horizons.

Then, the floodgates opened. I discovered Annie Rivieccio. Then Lisa Cross. Then Alina Popa, followed by Yvette Bova and Denise Masino and Deidre Pagnanelli. I found out about Michelle Maroldo and Denise Hoshor. And Brandi Mae Akers. Of course, Victoria Dominguez. And other women like Nikki Fuller, Debi Laszewski, Sondra Faas, Marina Lopez, Catherine Holland, Emery Miller, Gayle Moher, Lauren Powers, Shawn Tan, Julie Germaine, and newcomers like Shannon Courtney, Minna Pajulahti, Dani Reardon, and Sheronica Sade Henton. There are many more to name. We could go on for hours. I’m still discovering new beautiful ladies seemingly every single day.

But I never forgot my roots, as the saying goes. Karen Zaremba remains on the front of my mind and tucked away snuggly in my heart. She isn’t just one of my first discoveries…she remains one of the best and brightest. I have the feeling I’m going to feel the same way regardless of how many additional tens of thousands of muscular women I’m introduced to in the future.

But let’s return to Karen’s effortless sexiness. It cannot be understated. Karen doesn’t walk; she glides. She doesn’t smile; she glows. She doesn’t pose; she radiates. She doesn’t flex; she blossoms. She doesn’t impress; she transcends. She doesn’t compete as a bodybuilder; she elevates the ceiling of human potential. She isn’t just beautiful; she’s ethereal and magnanimous. Karen Zaremba exceeds your expectations yet doesn’t seem to be trying to do anything other than being herself.

That takes more than talent. That takes a flawless combination of natural gifts, determination, hard work, and instincts. No one can teach you how to be as angelic as Karen. Nor could she necessarily teach others the ropes. Some of us are more radiant and charismatic than others for reasons that cannot be rationally explained or easily transferrable.

Karen’s skin tone is the best.

Perhaps part of her appeal is her laidback Midwestern demeanor. Karen doesn’t boast the flashiness of an entitled California-bred pseudo-celebrity. Nor is she a snooty East Coaster who treats bodybuilding as her ticket to Broadway-style stardom. I am, of course, exaggerating and wildly stereotyping millions of people in the United States (which is trendy in the year 2016), but what cannot be denied is the refreshing authenticity that Karen brings to the table.

She doesn’t post selfies every single day on Instagram. In fact, I don’t think Miss Zaremba even has an Instagram account. When you research her, you don’t actually find a whole lot. This adds to her mystique. Because thousands of photos and hundreds of hours of video footage of Karen don’t exist, we can only witness a small slice of who she is. This allows us to fill in the blanks wherever we see fit.

So I can speculate that she’s modest, down-to-earth, and full of “small town charm” because…well, I feel like it. Is this based on extensive knowledge of her personality, lifestyle, and background? Nope! Our idealized version of people is what fuels our love for celebrities.

Karen Zaremba may not be a traditional celebrity, but in my heart she’s a glamorous superstar.

She comes across as a super chill lady who will just as likely bake you a batch of gingerbread cookies as she is to rapidly do 25 pullups as if it were no big deal. She’s a mom and she loves being a mom. She once was a muscular woman who also doesn’t mind being a loving wife and someone who would enthusiastically serve on her local PTA board. Once again, this is based on nothing but what exists in my imagination. But doesn’t this seem plausible?

For her, bodybuilding isn’t her life’s calling or integral to her business model. Doesn’t it seem like for Karen being a bodybuilder was a “neat” thing to do? She wasn’t in it for the money, the glitz, or the fame. She didn’t “brand” herself as a bad girl or a sexy muscle siren or feminist superhero. She just let herself be herself. She’s a mom, a wife, and a friendly neighbor who thinks having big muscles would be nifty. You rarely see that level of unpretentiousness in today’s narcissistic culture.

In other words, Karen never wanted to be a celebrity – even among the small subculture of female muscle fans. Having big muscles wasn’t her way of feeding her ego. It was her way of experiencing self-empowerment. All she wanted to be was the best version of herself. For me, that’s all I need.

Karen left just enough to the imagination…yet revealed enough to let us know what she got. Such a tease!

Just as any baseball or football player must eventually call it a career and “hang up the cleats,” Karen has now decided to forgo her muscles and become “normal-looking” again. I have no doubt that Karen still exercises to keep herself fit and trim, but from what I can gather (and she prefers to keep her personal life private, which is her right) she’s allowed her muscles to shrink. She’s now a former bodybuilder. She’s now a regular lady you see shopping for groceries at the supermarket on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. This isn’t disappointing or regrettable. She can do whatever she wants with her life.

But there is undeniably a small element of sadness at play here. It is a bit melancholy when a gorgeous FBB retires and relinquishes her muscularity. As a sports fan, you never want to see your favorite players withdraw from playing the game they love and ride off into the sunset back to civilian life. But time marches on and not everything lasts forever. There will be plenty of young up-and-coming Karen Zarembas who will take up her mantle. Heck, I’ve referenced many of them on this very blog.

So this is a celebration of a woman who leaves a legacy of making the world a more beautiful place, whether she has big muscles or not. Because of her, we now have stronger faith in the goodness of people and the potential of human achievement. Karen Zaremba never has to “prove” that she is gorgeous. She just is. She never hogs the spotlight and demands that people look at her. We look at her because we cannot help but look at her. That takes something special.

As an 18-year-old kid Karen made my heart leap out of my chest. She was more than twice my age and rarely ever did any nude modeling. She never did anything pornographic or overly sexual. She kept it classy. She kept things modest. You’ll never find a video of her sucking a porn star’s penis or masturbating with an oversized dildo. She never had to do any of those things to capture my attention, even all these years later.

She just had to be herself. And that was enough. And it still is.

Perhaps We Should Vote for a Female Bodybuilder for President

I'd vote Tina Jo Orban as "Best Legs" if such a category were to exist. — I’d vote Tina Jo Orban as “Best Legs” if such a category were to exist.

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock for the past two years, or if you live outside of the United States and you don’t particularly care what happens in this country, most of you should be aware that very soon we will be bringing this God-awful presidential election to a merciful end and will choose who our next Commander-in-Chief will be.

I refuse to even name the two candidates who are running for my nation’s highest public office on the grounds that both of them have received enough attention from people like you and I. So perhaps this post will remain relevant four, eight, or twelve years from now. Who knows?

If this excruciating and painful election cycle has taught us anything – and it has indeed taught us many valuable lessons about the state of my nation and politics in general – it’s that qualifications for the job don’t matter to the typical voter when it comes to selecting the next U.S. President. So, in an effort to not get too political and keep matters civil, I will lay out a tongue-in-cheek argument for why Americans (and people from other countries who are blessed to live in a representational democracy, or at least a country that practices such style of governance in theory) should decide to vote for a female bodybuilder for president on Tuesday, November 8, 2016.

I will admit that I am embarrassed as a U.S. citizen to subject the world to watching our political theater play out in all its horrifying glory. Let’s hope 2016 is just one of those “weird” years that we look back upon decades later and proudly declare that we were fortunate enough to have lived through it (for the most part) unscathed. After all, we could do worse. And odds are we will actually end up doing worse sooner or later.

But I digress. I am no political commentator, but in my opinion the most significant reason why U.S. politics sucks right now is because we expect our politicians to deliver on promises that were unrealistic to begin with…which then breeds contempt, more unrealistic expectations, and more extreme candidates who can only get elected if they continue to up-the-ante and foster a whole new set of stupid promises. This means personality tends to matter more than qualifications or knowledge about the job, which explains an awful lot.

However, a female bodybuilder lives in a completely different world than politicians – but can offer said politicians a lot of life lessons that could go a long way in generating better public policies.

Think about the world a female bodybuilder inhabits. She’s working in an industry that persistently is trying to weed her out of it. The Ms. Olympia is dead and buried and doesn’t appear to be coming back any time soon. Other competitions may rise out of the ashes and attempt to take its place, but that doesn’t change the fact that the IFBB isn’t too keen on allowing hypermuscular competitors to be the “face” of the female side of the sport. They’d rather more “audience friendly” fitness and bikini competitors take center stage over the bigger and buffer ladies who’ve worked harder to achieve their physiques.

So, right off the bat a female bodybuilder has to endure working in a profession where the chances of cultivating strong career prospects are becoming dimmer and slimmer as time marches on. Yet, money doesn’t fall from the skies and she has to make an income somehow. This is where things like personal training, one-on-one online consulting, fitness entrepreneurship, and ahem, offering wrestling or muscle worship sessions to paying customers (all under the table and away from the prying hands of tax collectors, of course!) fit into the picture. She may not necessarily want to do any or most of these things, but as I mentioned before, money doesn’t grow on trees and food won’t miraculously appear on the dinner table out of thin air. So, a female bodybuilder who wants to pursue bodybuilding as a profession – more or less – must adapt to her present circumstances or face the inevitable option of having to choose a different career path.

Another lovely and gorgeous Tina: Tina Chandler.

Adaptation isn’t easy or seamless, but it does happen. People who live in the real world adapt every single day of their lives. What worked yesterday won’t necessarily work today and sure as hell won’t work tomorrow, so it’s foolish to remain stilted in one’s ways of doing things. One must always look for the next best opportunity or face the consequences of becoming poor, irrelevant, or both. This requires understanding the bodybuilding industry well, knowing what customers want (if you get my drift), and being willing to forge a new pathway if the current ones leads to a dead end. I didn’t say it’s easy to do this, but it can be done. We can collectively name hundreds of female bodybuilders from all across the world who can testify to this.

Another aspect to female bodybuilding that’s important to realize is the independent nature of the sport. Unlike team sports like baseball, football (the one that features tackling, throwing, and catching), basketball, hockey, soccer, rugby, and others, bodybuilding isn’t a sport that consists of teams, teammates, and being dependent upon others to win games. It’s solely on the shoulders of each individual athlete.

Of course, it deserves to be said that every single top-level bodybuilder – male or female – has a large team of coaches, trainers, nutritional experts, doctors, and assistants who aid them on their journey to becoming an elite competitor. No man is an island, and perhaps no woman is an island either. So a female bodybuilder isn’t completely paddling a single canoe. But there’s no denying that bodybuilding is ruggedly individualistic in nature. The panel of judges that decides who wins and who doesn’t win only looks at the individual competitors, not who they have standing in their corner cheering them on.

Muhammad Ali is known as the greatest boxer of all time – not Muhammad Ali and his army of personal trainers, physicians, sparring partners, promoters, advisors, and so on. Though every top athlete has help from a team of professionals, but only one person is in the ring fighting against his or her opponent. And the last time I checked, Ali was the only one in that ring staring down his hapless challenger.

Bodybuilders of all stripes understand this reality intuitively. If they make a mistake, they alone must answer for it. They can’t blame a lazy teammate, idiotic coaching, or an overall poor supporting cast for being a perpetual loser. They only have themselves to blame if they placed 3^rd at last year’s competition but 10^th this year. That drop-off can have plenty of rational explanations (biased judging being a prominent one), but at the end of the day every single competitor is responsible for their own training, progress, dieting, and outcomes.

Which leads us to the next point…

Female bodybuilders aren’t striving to achieve a goal that exists only in the abstract. Rather, they bust their tails every day of their lives working toward a goal that’s specific, tangible, measurable, attainable, and very damn difficult to meet. There’s an element of poetic beauty integral to this reality, isn’t there?

If a new and up-and-coming female athlete looks at photos of Alina Popa, Debi Laszewski or Brigita Brezovac and says to herself, “I want to look like that one day,” guess what? She can! Granted, it won’t be easy and the journey from Point A to Point B will be arduous, tumultuous, and full of plenty of doubt. But nevertheless, one cannot deny that the goal can be met if she sets her mind to it and educates herself on what is necessary to get there.

Annie Rivieccio earns my vote for "Best Bicep Peak." — Annie Rivieccio earns my vote for “Best Bicep Peak.”

Unlike politicians who promise big and bold achievements that probably aren’t realistic and only will set their constituents up for disappointment, a female bodybuilder has a distinct goal in mind that’s specific and can accurately be visualized ahead of time. It doesn’t exist in a theoretical universe that looks great on paper or in a rousing speech but doesn’t actually work in real life. Bodybuilding is a sport where end results aren’t achieved by dumb luck or happenstance. It materializes when an athlete makes a definitive decision to take specific action toward achieving a precise goal.

Nobody will argue that it’ll be easy to look like Lisa Cross or Rene Campbell. That high degree of muscularity doesn’t come easily. But one cannot also argue that such objectives are impossible. They are quite possible to meet, albeit after one is eager to dramatically reorganize one’s lifestyle.

Point B isn’t a hypothetical reality that exists only in one’s mind. Building an impressive level of muscle mass is a concrete end that arises after participating in concrete means. Gaining x number of pounds of muscle or placing in the top five of a certain bodybuilding contest are measurable and quantifiable aims that are either achieved or not achieved. There is no middle ground. There is no ambiguity. Either it happened or it didn’t. Period.

And who is to blame if one sets out to gain bigger biceps and triceps and fails? You guessed it. The person who established these goals in the first place and nobody else.

One other facet of female bodybuilders that must be addressed is the fact that FBBs are, for the most part, not worried about being popular or widely accepted by society. A woman who chooses to pursue bodybuilding in any serious manner is opening herself up to a variety of different kinds of obstacles – many of which she would not face had she not decided to become a bodybuilder.

It’s no mystery that a woman with big muscles is an unusual sight to see. Simply put, these women are rare in our world. Yet, a small number of remarkable women are actively working to build big muscles despite the potential backlash that might come with it. Many will receive looks of repulsion or disgust. Accusations of being “too manly” or “becoming a man” will start to flood in. There will be those who will ask her “do you have to get that big?” Others will question her life choices and wonder if she’s hiding something.

But no matter what comes her way, a female bodybuilder must be tough-minded and relentless in the pursuit of her dreams. She must endure people looking at her differently. She must accept the fact trolls on the Internet will post nasty remarks about her. She knows the road to becoming a pro bodybuilder will be strenuous…but she does it regardless. That’s not easy to do. There aren’t too many of us in this world who are capable of breaking all those barriers, jumping over all those hurdles, and trudging through all those obstacles when the easier road is to not pursue bodybuilding in the first place.

She does what she wants to do knowing it won’t be popular with everyone. Yes, she will meet people along the way who will support her, but certainly that won’t be everybody. Doing the right thing – following your dreams – despite outside noise takes emotional and intellectual fortitude. Do you honestly believe some of our elected representatives share that same level of internal strength?

Catherine Holland could start a nuclear war over her physique.

The final point I’ll make (although I could go on further) is that a female bodybuilder possesses a deep understanding of how the world works and must apply this knowledge practically in the quest of her chosen profession. She needs to be an entrepreneur, agent, marketer, business manager, scheduler, public relations specialist, nutritionist, athletic trainer, and personal ambassador all at the same time. As a small fish in a big pond, an FBB’s success or failure wholly depends upon how well she understands her circumstances and how she can cultivate an accomplished career from it (or despite it).

In this respect, female bodybuilders earn what’s coming to them. They aren’t “given” success. Nobody votes for them to have large muscles or a chiseled physique. They have to expel blood, sweat, and tears day in and day out to achieve their bodies. Granted, a panel of judges does elect how she places at a competition, but that’s an exception. For the most part, she wouldn’t have been able to reach that point of being on that stage unless she put in the hard work beforehand. Besides, actual competing is only a small part of the rewards that come from bodybuilding.

The biggest reward is the personal satisfaction of knowing that you’ve accomplished something grand. Nobody can take that away from you. Your opponents may have more trophies than you, but what every single competitor has is the sense of triumphant pride that comes with pursuing a goal with manic obsession. Truly, an FBB earns her success. That’s how the real world operates.

Presidents, prime ministers, senators, representatives, governors, MPs, city councilmembers, mayors, and other positions of elected authority do not always share these same traits. It seems rather odd to have a system where the power to regulate, tax, create new laws, authorize war, or incarcerate citizens are given to people who get that job simply by winning a glorified popularity contest. Very strange, indeed. But, that’s the system we have until something better replaces it.

Here in the United States of America, we give the nuclear codes to people we wouldn’t trust to manage the local Burger King. We trust those who’ve never ran a business to regulate businesses. We ask people who’ve never served in the military to send young men and women they’ve never met to a foreign country and die for an ambiguous cause. To summarize, we elect people who don’t understand how the world works to decide how the world works.

Insanity.

However, ask I’ve just articulated, a female bodybuilder does understand how the world works. She has to in order to survive. She must understand how to relate to people. She knows what it’s like to be a businesswoman…because she essentially is a one-woman business. She does what she does regardless of how unpopular it might make her. At the end of the day, a female bodybuilder shares these characteristics:

Mental toughness
Adaptability
Entrepreneurial savviness
Focus
Intelligence
Knowledgeable about the real world
Grit
Strength – both physical and emotional
Ability to earn her success
Independence

As I’ve said before, the list can go on and on. But you get the idea. I’m not suggesting that we should actually elect current or former female bodybuilders to high positions of political power just because they happen to be current or former FBBs. However, what I do want to illustrate is that FBBs boast a unique perspective on life that cannot be easily replicated or transferred.

I'd appoint Nikki Fuller as my Secretary of Muscle. — I’d appoint Nikki Fuller as my Secretary of Muscle.

She’s earned her success. She’s forged her own path. She’s self-taught herself topics in areas like calisthenics, biology, science, nutrition, sports medicine, etc. She lives in an environment that can be cruel and adversarial toward her. She knows how to persevere through obstacles and come out better for it. She must adapt to her surroundings…or die refusing to do so.

That’s not an easy thing to do. It’s not for everyone. Certainly not people who’ve existed in an Ivy League-encrusted silver spoon-fed bubble for their entire lives. As Americans go to the polls on November 8 they should ask themselves, “How the hell did we get here in the first place?” It’s a perfectly valid question; one that doesn’t have any easy answers.

But perhaps the answer is simple. We, as a nation, don’t value the right things. We value what we want to hear, not what we should hear. We live in a fantasy world full of bright shiny objects, not in the real world where decisions have actual consequences.

Female bodybuilders, on the other hand, do not get to live in such a magical universe. They must always be on their toes. They cannot get lazy or entitled. They must continuously grind in order to reach the Promised Land – which nobody actually promised them at all. In short, female bodybuilders represent humanity at its best. FBBs don’t make empty promises about what they think they’ll do. They actually do it every single day of their lives.

I’d vote for that.

Big Clits and Little Penises

Melissa Dettwiller catching some much needed sunshine.

I love big clits.

Many female muscle fans also love big clits. We love big clits. There aren’t too many things in this world that excite us like the sight of a beautiful muscular woman with a large clitoris. As odd as this may sound, it actually makes quite a lot of sense once you start to think about it. I’ve written before about why muscular women with big clits are so fascinating, but it seems like the conversation has just gotten started.

Though analogous with the male penis, a woman’s clitoris is still without question an exclusively feminine organ. For most women, the clitoris is remarkably small and not easily visible. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t significant. On the contrary, the vast majority of the clitoris is actually located inside the woman’s body. While the medical research isn’t in complete agreement, the general consensus (if one exists) is that the base of the clitoris is what we would normally call a woman’s g-spot, an erogenous zone of the vagina that can lead to intense orgasms when properly stimulated. The head is what we see protruding underneath the clitoral hood.

Female bodybuilders who’ve taken drugs (for an extended period of time) that increase their testosterone levels often experience their clitorises growing in size. Fans of female bodybuilders may not know or be able to successfully pronounce the word “clitoromegaly,” but we certainly appreciate witnessing the result of it whenever we get the chance. I know I do!

This is why we cannot stop watching female muscle porn that involves us seeing close-up shots of great big clits. There’s a reason why Denise Masino, Angela Salvagno, Brandi Mae Akers, and Amber DeLuca are among my favorite FBBs of all time. All four of these women (as well as many others) not only are endowed with large clitorises, they are also not shy about showing them off to their voyeuristic fans. How lucky we are, indeed.

These ladies and others are not only willing to show off their clits for the camera, they’re also enthusiastic about masturbating it, pumping it with a clit pump, and allowing a partner (male or female) to suck it to the point of orgasm. They don’t just have large clits. They want us to know it. They want us to desire it. They want us to fantasize about it.

Well, it’s definitely an effective marketing strategy. They’ve got me hooked! Many of you probably are as well.

But what is it about a large clitoris that lures us in like a magic spell? Theories abound, but I think I know what’s so special about them. In a previous post titled The Bigger the Clit, the Happier We All Are (NSFW), I presented the argument that guys love female bodybuilders with big clits because a large clitoris symbolizes sexual independence, empowerment, and sovereignty. Skimming through this post again, I can’t say I disagree with anything I wrote. But let’s discuss this topic from a slightly different angle.

My original thesis is based upon the perspective of the female bodybuilder. From her point of view, her large clitoris is an outward expression of her sexuality. She isn’t a passive being who possesses a vagina that exists for the sole purpose of receiving a man’s penis during intercourse. This paradigm reinforces the idea that men are the ones who should initiate sex and that women are only there to oblige. This framework has existed for thousands of years and still lives on today. But times are changing. A female bodybuilder with a large clitoris, however, speeds up the process of society changing its perspective.

Her clitoris is a pro-active sexual organ that can give her orgasmic pleasure absent a man’s penis. In fact, the clitoris exists for no other reason than to give a woman pleasure. All women have clits, but most women’s clits are too small to be seen. Many women’s clits cannot be seen even when she’s fully aroused. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there, however. It’s there…it’s just that the majority of it exists inside her body, away from a casual glance.

For a female bodybuilder who’s well-endowed, her large clitoris is obvious for everyone to see. It can be stimulated to the point of orgasm just like a man’s penis. Rumor has it the clitoris is more sensitive than the penis, which perhaps gives women more pleasurable orgasms. I don’t know if this can be scientifically verified, but let’s assume there are at least a few grains of truth to this. Like the penis, the clitoris is a woman’s way of demonstrating that she is a sovereign sexual creature who can enjoy sex for purposes that have nothing to do with reproduction or pleasing a man. She can please herself anytime she wants to, even if she’s all by herself without a phallic object anywhere in sight.

Of course, you can't have a discussion about female bodybuilders and large clits unless the esteemed Denise Masino makes an appearance. — Of course, you can’t have a discussion about female bodybuilders and large clits unless the esteemed Denise Masino makes an appearance.

This theme of sexual independence is especially pronounced when we’re dealing with muscular women, who are in many respects the epitome of a “strong independent woman.” She’s strong and independent not in a fake pop culture-inspired quasi-empowerment sort of way, but in real and tangible terms. Her big clit punctuates the point that she can control her own destiny, whether it’s in the gym or in the bedroom.

As I mentioned before, this perspective assumes the beauty of a large clit from the point of view of the female bodybuilder. Another perspective that should be talked about is that of guys who love muscular women. What are some other reasons why they love big clits on big strong women?

One significant reason is that a big clit looks like a small penis.

Now, let’s back up for a moment. There exists the misconception that guys who love female bodybuilders are either secretly gay and refuse to admit it or have sexual preferences that are not totally 100% “straight,” however you define the term. I don’t think this is accurate. Also, I’m not saying that being gay is somehow a bad thing or something that one should be embarrassed about. Who you are is who you are, that’s what I say. The point I’m making is that many guys who love muscular women are completely heterosexual and wouldn’t have it any other way. Our love for muscular women is nothing more than an alternative preference that’s a bit far removed from the so-called “mainstream.” That’s it.

That being said, our association of a big clit with a small penis has nothing to do with latent homosexual preferences or anything of the sort. It has more to do with appreciating the accomplishments of female bodybuilders despite their physical limitations.

To illustrate this point, consider the concept of big muscles. Normally, we associate large muscularity and great strength with masculinity. Men have more testosterone in their bodies, which logically means they can build muscle faster. Combined with the fact that human males are naturally larger than human females, you can quickly see why we traditionally associate strength and muscles as being masculine traits. However, female bodybuilders don’t necessarily shatter these perceptions; instead they are prime examples that men do not have a monopoly on strength and muscularity.

Women are at a handicap but do not have to be defined by this handicap. We can think of hundreds of female bodybuilders, athletes, fitness enthusiasts, and gym rats who have strength and muscle mass that surpass many men. So for guys who love FBBs, we love them not because they’re women who look like men, but because they’re women who look like women…strong women to be exact.

Along the same wavelength, we love a big clit not because it looks like a small penis but because it almost is the same size as a small penis (in a manner of speaking) in spite of it being undeniably a clit.

Huh? What does this mean exactly?

Guys who love big clits on big muscular women love the fact these ladies possess a beautiful endowment that is unquestionably feminine yet powerfully autonomous at the same time. A big clit also symbolizes another truth that guys tend to like: No matter what, a man is still a man and a woman is still a woman.

For guys like us, a big clit is a stark reminder that no matter how big and burly a woman can get, there’s still a distinct separation between biological men and biological women. Even the smallest penis in the world (although I will admit I haven’t done a whole lot of research on what the world record is regarding the smallest penis in human history) is larger than the biggest clitoris in the world. At least, I’m assuming that to be true.

Thus, in a titillating way, even the weakest and most sexually insecure man can take comfort knowing he still possesses the larger endowment. She may have bigger muscles. She may be able to lift more at the gym. She’s more powerful, energetic, charismatic, intriguing, popular, motivated, and authoritative. Her clitoris may be larger-than-life and almost (but not quite) resembles a man’s penis. But a man is still a man. And she is still a woman. This isn’t an overtly sexist or misogynist observation, but instead one rooted in how men think of themselves with respects to women.

Desiree Ellis relaxing and spreading her legs wide. No big deal?

For men, genitalia are ultimately what separate us from the fairer sex. Though men are naturally stronger than women, as I’ve mentioned before, female bodybuilders are proof that biological construction is not an unbreakable barrier. No matter how insurmountable it may seem, a woman can definitely work hard enough to be stronger than many men. Not all men, but certainly she can earn a spot above the vast majority of men on the planet. Social status could also separate men from women, but those barriers are also being blurred as time marches on. So what’s left?

Here’s what’s left: what exists between our legs. Am I right?

Yes. The intrigue of a man seeing a female bodybuilder with a large clit is similar to the thrill of beating a little kid at pickup basketball. 10 years from now, that puny little kid may grow up to be more athletically gifted than you, but at this moment you’re the superior basketball player. This kid may even have the reputation of being a basketball prodigy. You might not have been good enough to play for your school’s junior varsity team. But you are a solid three to four years older and several inches taller, making you the better player as things stand right now. You love beating this kid at his own game even though you clearly have advantages that he does not.

Similarly, guys love seeing a female bodybuilder with a large clit because it reminds us of our masculine qualities. We know we’re supposed to have larger genitalia than women. And despite a few rare instances in recorded human history, men do have much larger genitals than women. Even women with enormous clits that are big enough to make your jaw drop to the floor. She has big muscles and an eye-popping endowment hanging between her legs, but you ultimately have the larger piece of meat when all is said and done.

For guys who are insecure about themselves (which is perfectly normal) this glaring reminder serves as a bit of psychological comfort. We’re still men. We don’t believe that possessing a penis makes us superior or that possessing a vagina makes you inferior, but deep down inside the recesses of our brains we know our genitals provide us a degree (whether it’s earned or completely unearned) of sexual vitality and strength.

An FBB could be bigger than us in almost every facet. Bigger biceps. Bigger triceps. Bigger chest. Bigger back. Bigger quads. Bigger shoulders. Bigger hamstrings. Bigger calves. Bigger glutes. More chiseled abs. Everything about her is bigger, stronger, and more dynamic. Except, of course…

You guessed it.

Her enlarged clit is a valiant effort. It’s a striking testament to the fact that even women can be “well hung” under certain circumstances. But not totally. Her clit is beautifully big and potent, but it ain’t what hangs between our legs. We got something that she doesn’t have and will never have. Even those of us who think we have smaller packages (because a lot of that is based on perceptions instead of reality) can lift our heads up high knowing not even the brawniest female bodybuilder can surpass us in one specific anatomical area.

So that’s what I mean when I say we love big clits because it resembles a penis. We love them not because they are penises, but because they resemble one. There’s a significant difference. A big clit may be a phallic-like organ that provides a woman orgasmic pleasure, but it still isn’t even close to being a penis. Not. Even. Close. Regardless of what trolls on the Internet or impressionable young kids Googling things for the first time may think, a big clit is not a penis. Sure, it sort of looks like a very small one, but that still doesn’t mean anything.

Autumn Raby enjoying a phallic object that isn't her own. — Autumn Raby enjoying a phallic object that isn’t her own.

Yet, they do indeed resemble a little penis. I am not here to deny that. A clit has a thick head, a narrower shaft, and is ultrasensitive to the touch. When stimulated it can produce an orgasm. So the comparison is apt and understandable. When we’re dealing with a female bodybuilder who’s blessed with a large endowment the comparisons become more apparent. But that doesn’t change a thing. We love big clits because at the end of the day, a clit is still an undeniably feminine organ, no matter how large in size it gets. I don’t think this point is even up for discussion, but that’s just me.

In a way, a big clit is similar to big muscles. We love female muscle not because it resembles male muscle; we love female muscle because it’s…muscles on a female. Muscles are neither male nor female. The only difference is which type of body they exist on. Likewise, we love big clits because we love beautiful-looking female genitalia. We love it because it’s feminine, not masculine. We love it because it accentuates the concept of women being independent sexual beings who deserve the delights of physical pleasure. We also love it because in a kinky kind of way, it reminds us men of our own sexual independence. Women have their stuff and so do men. But our stuff is bigger!

A common theme found within discussions about female bodybuilders and the men who love them is the degree to which muscles can break down social and biological barriers. Do muscles make a woman more masculine? Is becoming more masculine even a bad thing? Are men who love muscular women somehow abandoning their social status? Can muscles help a woman elevate her social status, or does it not make any difference at all? Are muscles the great equalizer, or do biological gender differences still act as a brick wall that distinctly separates men from women?

All of these questions are fascinating. I can spend years and decades pondering them. But this clearly illustrates one important reason why we love female muscle: Strong women don’t just lift up themselves. They lift up all of us!

This is What It’s Like to Touch the Body of a Muscular Woman

I realize not everyone who reads my blog will ever have the opportunity – for a variety of reasons – to touch the body of a muscular woman. It’s an incredible experience and one that I will never tire of participating in whenever I get the chance. However, I am fortunate to have the financial resources available to me to pay for muscle worship sessions (albeit only a small handful per year), as well as the fact I live close to a major metropolitan city (Seattle) where female bodybuilders consistently travel to.

But not all of you are like me. Many of you live far away from major cities where FBBs and wrestlers tend to visit. Others of you are married or have spouses/significant others who wouldn’t appreciate it very much if you spent time and money touching the bodies of unknown muscular women. And of course, some of you don’t have the disposable income necessary to set up such appointments. Or maybe you’re curious to try this out but your religious convictions prevent you from acting upon your hidden desires. I totally understand all of these circumstances. I’m not here to judge or tell you that you should “go for it” regardless of what’s happening in your life.

That being said, for those of you who have never, or will never, know what it’s like to touch the body of a female bodybuilder, I have some good news for you. Read on and try your hardest to imagine what it would be like to think and feel these things as it happens.

I’ve received plenty of requests from readers to write more about my experiences participating in muscle worship sessions. Perhaps people want to live vicariously through me by reading my exploits on my humble blog. Great! I’m always willing to give my loyal readers what they want.

Let’s begin.

The first step toward discussing this topic is to talk about why the physical bodies of muscular women are so intriguing in the first place.

Without question, muscular women are rare in our world. That’s unfortunate for female muscle fans like us, but that’s the way it is. So because they’re few and far between, we are not able to experience the beauty of muscular women as frequently as we’d like. This is why the small handful of female bodybuilders, athletes, wrestlers, and erotic providers who offer sessions can charge hundreds of dollars for their services (some women can charge up to $1,500 for a full evening’s worth of her time). Where else will fans like us get to meet them and experience their bodies? Not too many places, that’s for sure.

Unless you happen to have a muscular girlfriend or wife you can go home to every day. But the vast majority of us do not. Once again, that’s the way it is. Oh well.

So if you get to arrange a muscle worship session with an FBB, you already know in the back of your mind that this is a rare opportunity to experience something extraordinary. These chances do not come up very often. There aren’t hundreds of thousands of muscular women offering their services as if they were Uber drivers. There are far less than that. So you must treasure this experience (whether it lasts one hour, two hours, or longer than that) and make sure you get your money’s worth when the time arrives for it to happen.

Ironically, the fact that a one-hour muscle worship session is so special and uncommon might end up undermining your enjoyment of the experience. You could be so hyped up emotionally and physically that you might struggle to focus on the moment. How can you relax when you’re spending $60 or so per minute? This is why you might not actually “enjoy” your first session all that much. You’re too distracted by the voices in your head, your accelerated heartrate, your emotions revved up into overdrive, and your insistence that you must enjoy the evening or else all is for naught.

The intriguing nature of muscular women could warp your memories of the experience of touching her body. For me, I felt like my first experience was all a blur. That hour felt like 20 minutes. I struggled to “quiet my mind” and focus only on the present. How could I possibly think straight when I was blessed to be in the presence of a gorgeous naked muscular woman for the first time in my life?

This is why subsequent muscle worship sessions were, for the most part, better experiences. I could afford to relax and not worry about anything else. I could enjoy the moment without apology or outside noise interfering with my concentration. Perhaps this is true for all of life’s experiences. Repetition puts you at ease. Inexperience gives you anxiety.

The second thing that needs to be discussed is our expectations for the experience. What do you think a muscular woman’s body will feel like? How will it differ from a normal woman’s body? Will I be disgusted by it? Or will it be the most incredible experience of my life? Will I be disappointed? Or totally caught off guard and pleasantly surprised?

Many of us have touched the body of a woman before. She’s usually soft, pleasant, and smooth. But that’s not always the case. Age, body type, ethnicity, and other factors (such as whether she’s addicted to tanning beds or smoking cigarettes) obviously affect how she looks and feels. But when we’re talking about female bodybuilders, we’re practically talking about a whole other kind of animal.

How will muscles affect the feel of her skin? Are younger bodybuilders different than older bodybuilders? Will her big muscles make her appear more like a man? Or will she still be undisputedly feminine? If you’re asking yourself these questions prior to your appointment, you’re not alone. They reflect the basic fact that you don’t entirely know what to expect, despite your best guesses. You will always have questions, which will affect your expectations of the experience. If you enter with an open mind and very few preconceived notions, you’re less likely to be shocked, sorely disappointed, or taken by surprise in any way. If, however, you come in with expectations set in stone, you’re more likely to encounter cognitive dissonance if you discover that reality doesn’t fit your beliefs.

May I touch the biceps of Heather Armbrust?

Alright, so circumstances and preconceived beliefs can definitely have an effect on your experience touching a muscular woman’s body. It’s fantastic we’ve established this. Cool beans. But what is the actual experience like?

The moment you walk into that hotel room, the nervous energy you feel will be palpable. Butterflies will be flying around your stomach. Your focus will be on edge. Your vision may be distorted. Things that normally distract you like car horns honking or the bedlam of construction workers tearing up a sidewalk will not bother you in the slightest. Odds are you won’t even notice it. You’ll try your hardest to be productive at work but probably won’t be. Just don’t tell your boss you’re about to engage in a muscle worship session with a world-class female bodybuilder later that evening after you clock out!

The first time you actually touch her body will probably be when you shake her hand or give her a hug as you first greet her. You might ask yourself whether her grip is exceptionally tight or if your arms will fail to wrap around her thick torso as you attempt to embrace her. But the experience hasn’t started quite just yet.

Your eyes will adjust to the new setting. If this is your first time being in the presence of a muscular woman, you might not believe what your eyes are seeing. But eventually, you’ll accept what’s going on around you and proceed to enjoy the encounter. You desperately want to know if reality will meet your expectations. Luckily for you, you’re about to find out.

After initial introductions, establishment of rules (assuming this is a necessary step), and exchange of payment (assuming this happens before the appointment commences), the festivities may begin! You regard her as she strikes a jaw-dropping pose. Perhaps it’s a front double biceps pose. Or front lat spread pose. Or something else entirely. Maybe she just stands there with authority, waiting for your meek self to approach her. Whatever the case may be, you go in to meet your destiny.

Let’s assume her bicep is the first part of her body that you touch. That’s a logical and perhaps common choice to make. She extends her right arm (or left arm, if she’s left handed) and flexes her bicep for you. You marvel at its size, thickness, and ability to “jump” up and down at will. You extend your fingers toward it. She continues to squeeze as she watches you prepare to touch her for the first time. She may or may not know this is your first ever experience touching a muscular woman’s body. If your initial conversations have revealed as much, she might be thinking about how she can maximize the quality of “the moment.”

Should she remain quiet and allow silence to permeate the room so that you can properly concentrate? Or should she be more conversational and try to put you at ease by being sociable?

Regardless of what happens, your fingers finally make contact with her skin. After all these years – and decades perhaps – of speculation, your fantasies will no longer be fantasies. They are now reality. You will finally know what it’s like to touch the beautiful muscles of a beautiful strong woman.

What is it actually like, you may ask? Let me explain.

Her skin will be remarkably hard. Not gruff or rigid, but not as soft as you’re accustomed to feeling. Most women – and men, for that matter – possess softer bodies that are light, smooth, and silky. You might be taken aback by how her muscles don’t feel like flesh but instead feel like bone, as if she has an exoskeleton. But her skin is in fact skin, not bone. You understand theoretically that directly underneath her skin is flesh, but it’s still difficult to wrap your mind around this considering what you’re privileged to be currently touching.

Like a tortoise, cockroach, grasshopper, or lobster, her muscular body feels like a protective shell. Like body armor worn by a warrior, her body is her armor. It protects her. It shields her from harm. It can produce harm if provoked. Her physical shell is only matched by the emotional and intellectual shell that exist inside her mind. After all, it takes someone with an incredible amount of willpower, drive, and confidence to be able to develop muscles that large.

After the initial shock has worn off, you proceed to feel up the rest of her body. If she’s nude or topless, you might focus on the more intimate parts of her body such as her nipples, clitoris, or vagina. But mostly, you want to feel her muscles. Her chest, her arms, her back, her abs, her legs, her butt, her everything. You don’t want to leave any stone unturned, as the old saying goes.

The most significant observation you’ll come away with is how different she is from everybody else. You’ve never encountered a woman like her before, and likely won’t ever outside of the context of participating in a muscle worship or wrestling session. As I’ve said countless times before, muscular women are rare. So the few instances in which you are able to feel her hard work will definitely stand out in your memory for years to come.

Her extraordinary hardness and tenacity seemingly make her invincible. You may wrestle her and perhaps “beat” her at a match. But even that may come as a surprise to you. If wrestling isn’t your cup of tea, you might have a challenging time imagining anyone defeating her in a one-on-one confrontation. Her unique physical construction will do all sorts of things to your imagination. You fantasize what it would be like to make love to her, snuggle with her, live with her, be punished by her, take commands from her, and so on. All of these thoughts are rooted in her “invincibility.”

Once the session is complete, you will gain a whole new respect for her and her fellow female bodybuilders. You will understand how truly unique FBBs are. What they have done to their bodies is not only difficult to accomplish, but can come at a price. You may not even look at “normal-looking” men and women the same way. How can anyone complain about being weak, overweight, or in poor physical condition when FBBs do more work in one week than most of us (male or female, it doesn’t matter) will do in an entire year?

Eventually, you’ll come back down to Earth and proceed with life as normal. But the memories you have of the tactile sensations of feeling her hard, chiseled physique will never go away. Your first experience may become a hazy in your mind, but what doesn’t go away is remembering how you felt at the time. People often forget conversations, dates, events, and other so-called “milestones” in life, but seldom do they forget strong visceral emotions that happen at specific moments.

Sexy white top being worn by Fern Lasseter.

Without question, your first time touching a muscular woman’s body – whether it happens during a muscle worship session or in “real life” – will be a remarkable experience. Your perceptions of the limitations of human biology will be challenged. You may discover new fetishes that you never knew you had. Or, you might be sorely disappointed and come away unimpressed. Or the experience may be so intense and mind-blowing that you might forget key moments, as if your brain could not fully process everything that was going on at the time.

There’s no “right” or “wrong” way to remember your first time touching her body. For all you know, her body odor or choice of clothing (assuming she’s wearing clothing at all!) could stick in your memory more than what it was like to place your fingers on her quads or triceps. The human mind can act in strange ways, indeed.

But most important, what will make a lasting impression is how you felt during the Moment of Truth and afterward when it was all over. Was it empowering? Titillating? Frightening? Deeply erotic? Confusing? Unexpectedly calming and soothing? Or a total dud? As mentioned previously, a lot of this depends on what your initial expectations were. We create our own realities more than we think – or would like to think.

What about those of you who have never touched a muscular woman’s body before? Or plan to but haven’t yet? Or will never for a myriad of reasons? For folks like you out there in the wider Universe, I will just say this:

Don’t hold back or be embarrassed by what you find to be erotic. Keep dreaming. Keep fantasizing. Keep thinking beautiful thoughts. Odds are, these speculations are all probably pretty damn accurate.