insecurity – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Looking Up to Her

An unknown friend in a position to look up to Roxie Rain.

The heat emanating from her coarse, rough skin is palpable. I’ve never experienced skin so abrasive, yet so beautiful to the touch. Tonight is a night of many unique experiences.

Shannon stands tall in her translucent grey high heels, her forest green eyes hovering just above my own. Her eyelashes flutter with musical synchronicity. Right now, her wavy dark brown hair sits right above her broad shoulders, looking as if it’s set just right for this moment. I struggle to find the words to speak to her with, a burden that seems insignificant for the time being.

“Have you ever touched a woman like me before?” she coyly asks.

I nod my head “no,” but realize she wouldn’t be able to see that. So I attempt to make a pithy verbal reply to her inquiry.

“No, I have not. Definitely not. You’re the first, for sure.”

She murmurs something unintelligible back to me, but it’s probably just a slight laugh. She knows she has all the power right now; she knows damn well that I am like a helpless child, with normal thoughts and conversational abilities thrown out the proverbial window. My fingers move down to her wide back, every striation of muscle sending shivers down my spine. Her thick mounds of flesh seem piled on like bricks in a mansion. To reiterate, I’ve never met, seen, or touched a woman quite like Shannon before.

But what a ride it has been thus far.

“Wow. You’re so damn beautiful, Shannon,” I say. “But you already know that, I’m sure.”

Shannon unexpectedly turns around, her piercing eyes staring straight into my weak soul. She rubs her hands down her bare breasts, completely aware of their remarkably small size. Is she projecting her insecurities to me? Or pointing out her flaws (as if she has any)? Or is she attempting to turn herself on? I can only guess.

Next, she hooks her fingers around the sides of her bikini bottom and methodically pulls it down to the floor. Once it pools around her ankles, she kicks them off to the side. Neither of us have any clue where it lands. Not that we actually care.

Now she is completely nude.

“Thank you, Max. I appreciate the kind words,” Shannon begins. “Why don’t you show me how beautiful you think I am, instead of just saying it?”

With the grace of a world-class ballet dancer, Shannon leaps backwards onto the hotel bed and spreads her powerful legs as wide as they can go. She rests her head against the purple satin pillowcase. I think I know what she’s inviting me to do…so I oblige her invitation with very little humility.

I get down on my knees and lean my chest against the edge of the bed. My hands explore Shannon’s tree trunk legs, her calves the size of grapefruits, and her impressive six-pack abdomen. Shannon closes her eyes and moans as I touch every inch of her magnificent body. She’s an angel, a deity, a demi-goddess who is charitable enough to visit the Human World. For this, I am eternally grateful.

My eyes open wide when I see Shannon’s enormous clitoris. Hot, ultrasensitive, pulsing, and as erect as it can possibly be, my tongue laps its broad head with reckless abandon. Protruding out at least three inches in length, I wrap my lips around it and rhythmically fondle it with my entire mouth. Shannon groans in response, intense pleasure building up within her being.

She grabs the bedsheets and squeezes them with all her might. I would not be surprised if she accidentally rips the fabric. Her brute strength is enough to break or tear anything manmade. Loud moans of delight escape from her throat. I clutch her legs to stabilize myself. I continue to suck as meticulously as I can – wanting to bring her to the earthshattering orgasm that she deserves.

Eventually, Shannon does climax. Maybe just once. Or maybe twice. I cannot tell for sure.

“Oh fuck!” Shannon belts out.

She lifts her pelvis off the bed and writhes around involuntarily. Shock waves of orgasm pulsate throughout her body. I try to end on a gracious note by slowing down my oral actions and tickling her clit head with the tip of my tongue. I do not know if she enjoys this or even acknowledges the gesture.

Moments pass. Shannon is out of breath and smiling unashamedly.

“Alright kid. Now it’s your turn,” she announces.

Shannon playfully shoves me backward, forcing me to stumble onto my bare butt. She flexes her bulging biceps, then shows off her jaw-dropping triceps. Next, she squeezes her delts and looks to the ground to provide me with a more advantageous view. I appreciate every second of it. The final thing she does is turn toward the window and strike a side chest pose, demonstrating the results of all these years of bench pressing at the gym. She grins with delight at the conclusion of her little “show.”

She takes a few steps toward me. I am still on the floor, as vulnerable as can be.

There I am, looking up to her. She smiles. I can clearly see the deep grooves between her abs. I can see her shrunken breasts – and the chip on her shoulder that comes with it. She’s still wearing the high heels, which adds her to considerable height. She is all powerful. Omnipotent. Invincible. Indomitable. I am weak. I can do nothing to resist. Yet, why would I?

“I’m in a good mood right now. I know we’ve just met, but I have a special feeling about you, Max.” Shannon stands frozen in time, as still as a marble statue. “I rarely let guys do this the first time they see me, but like I just said, I’m feeling generous.”

She walks toward her suitcase, opens it, digs around it for a few moments, and takes out a condom wrapper. My heart flutters, knowing exactly what is about to transpire next.

Shannon tears it open and tosses it carelessly on top of the bedside credenza. She points to the bed. I immediately get up and sit down on it, as obedient as a pet dog. I remain silent. She does as well.

This is what the hotel balcony looks like.

Seductively, she approaches me and wraps her callused fingers around my manhood. It awakens, growing harder and longer in the palm of her hand. I take in a deep breath, afraid I might prematurely come right then and there. Thankfully, I do not embarrass myself in front of this Gorgeous Muscle Goddess. Eventually – and for what seems like an eternity – she smooths the condom down my erect penis and leans over to kiss me. Our lips meet. Her tongue wrestles with mine. Her strawberry-flavored chap stick invades my senses. Shannon then grasps my wrist and pulls me upward. I stand next to her, my eyes still just below hers. She leads me to the sliding glass door. My breathing stops. She unlocks it and escorts us outside. The chilly early spring air greets our nude bodies. It is still not quite dark yet, so at this moment complete strangers could be watching us if they were fortunate enough to stumble upon this glorious sight:

A lucky nude man accompanied by a beautiful nude muscular woman.

Shannon turns around, braces the metallic railing and sticks her bottom out toward me, offering it to her newfound mate. I place my cold hands against her hips. The tip of my penis brushes against her left butt cheek. I manage to take in a deep breath.

“Now fuck me,” she says in a much louder voice than I thought was prudent.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without thinking too much about it, I seize her hips with more force and guide my penis inside her. She’s already wet, signaling her hospitality. I thrust in and out of her vagina, not saying a word and secretly hoping somebody would see us. After all, this is the most triumphant moment of my life…I would kill to have some kind of an audience to witness it. Is that too much to ask?

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s great. Just like that, Max…”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw an older couple watching us from a nearby balcony. But I could be wrong. My vision has blurred and I can only concentrate on fucking her with the forcefulness that she requires. Shannon returns the favor by bouncing her pelvis up and down, adding to the sensations running through my manhood. I can only scream.

“Oh, fuck!”

Pleasure swells to its pinnacle…

…

…and arrives at a satisfying conclusion.

I come. Much longer than usual. I cannot imagine how much semen I’ve just ejaculated into this measly condom. More than twice than I usually do? Thrice? Who the fuck knows?

Finally, we come apart. Shannon stands up straight, kisses me one final time, picks me up with her burly arms, and takes me inside. I still do not know for sure if we had any spectators see our animalistic coupling just now. I suspect we did. But that’s just a baseless guess.

She drops me to the ground and my knees buckle. I fall feebly to the carpet. Now, I’m the one who’s out of breath. I peer up to see her. Once again, she’s standing over me. That smile has not left her pretty face. Her authority is tangible. It’s frightening how powerful she is right now and how weak I am. The contrast is jarring. Yet, in my weakness, I feel no shame. I feel ecstatic, in fact. I feel…masculine. The most masculine I’ve never felt in my life, ironically in the presence of a much bigger and stronger woman. I don’t feel any humiliation or emasculation. Quite the opposite.

It’s funny how paradoxical life can be at times, isn’t it?

Regardless of the real power dynamics actually going on in this room, there’s one constant that never ceases to exist. There I am, in the presence of the most beautiful creature I’ve ever been privileged to meet. She’s standing tall, I am on the floor.

Looking up to her.

Size Queens and Muscle Queens

Denise Masino and Roxie Rain are dictionary-definition Muscle Queens.

No matter how many millions of words are published – both in print and on the Internet – talking about female bodybuilders, speculation about certain aspects of their sexuality will always creep into the conversation.

Their sexual habits, preferences, anatomy, responsiveness, desires, and mechanics will forever capture our imaginations. A female bodybuilder is treated less like a world-class athlete and more like a philosophical jumping-off point for important issues pertaining to male/female relations, gender identity, gender roles, definitions of masculinity and femininity, sexuality, media representation, and so on. This blog unto itself is a testament to that.

Without question, female bodybuilders are fascinating. Yes, they’re tremendously beautiful and arousing, but they’re also intriguing on an intellectual level. The characteristics of their sexuality are of particular interest to us. I’ve written at length about female bodybuilders and orgasms, their clitorises, and generally speaking why their genitals mesmerize us. So you can count me in as someone who finds all of this to be compelling.

One subject in particular that continues to show up in Google searches and porn searches is whether or not female bodybuilders are also size queens. For those of you who have never heard of Urban Dictionary or are as sheltered as our nuclear arsenal, a “size queen” is someone who enjoys having sex with a large penis. Size queens could be men as well as women. A man who is a size queen doesn’t necessarily have a large penis himself, but nevertheless prefers men who do. A woman who claims to be a size queen is a commonly featured archetype found in popular pornography.

What factors determine who is a size queen and who isn’t? For the sake of argument, let’s talk exclusively about women. I’m not an expert at human sexuality, but I’d argue it’s a matter of personal preference more than anything else. I don’t think certain women are more genetically or culturally predisposed to being size queens than others. Just as every penis is different, I’m guessing every vagina is different too.

A very erotically charged moment featuring Yvette Bova and a friend (does anyone know who she is?).

What a woman enjoys during sex largely is dependent upon what she’s used to and who she’s with. The same goes for men. However, this discussion is often framed in terms of clichéd stereotypes that we’ve all been accustomed to hearing over and over again. According to casual research (which means a three second Google search), most so-called “penis maps” claim that men from Africa tend to have larger penises than men from Europe/North America, Latin America, and Asia. Of course, the stereotype still persists that Asian men have the smallest penises in the world. I can’t verify whether any of this is true (do professional sexologists go around the globe and ask random men to pull down their pants for the sake of science?), but let’s just assume there’s a statistically significant degree of truth to this.

Alright, is it fair to say that black women are more likely to be size queens because black men tend to have larger penises? Are white and Latina women somewhere in between? Are Asian women less likely to be size queens because they’re (generally speaking) not physically built to be like that? If we assume that “genetics is destiny,” these conclusions probably aren’t too far off from the truth.

But in all seriousness, we don’t actually know the truth. Lots of useless and innocuous ink has been spilled over the years making unverifiable claims about human sexual preferences. I’m not slamming anyone who is a good faith sex researcher, but pop culture has a way of diluting perfectly solid research to become nothing more than unsubstantiated rumors.

Therefore, who is and isn’t a size queen probably cannot be scientifically proven, disproven or accurately predicted. That doesn’t mean you should ignore what popular magazines have to say on the subject (or random bloggers like yours truly), but take everything you read with a grain of salt. People have hidden agendas, personal biases, or are motivated by click rates/page views in order to generate income. Take it with a grain of salt, indeed. Come to think of it, that’s probably the best advice you’re going to hear all day.

But one demographic group within the human female population that piques our interest the most is female bodybuilders. Are muscular women more likely to be size queens than non-muscular women?

It sort of makes sense, I guess. Muscular women are big. They have big muscles. They have big bodies. They also tend to have big personalities, huge levels of self-confidence, and astronomical amounts of drive, determination, and willpower. Female bodybuilders are larger than life, both literally and figuratively. Why wouldn’t they also enjoy having sex with a big penis?

A very sexy outfit being worn by Amber DeLuca.

After all, the vagina is more of a muscle than an organ. It’s an internal organ for sure, but its structure is mostly defined by its muscularity. So it’s understandable why we’d speculate whether or not a female bodybuilder can be sexually satisfied unless she has a big piece of meat pounding away inside her muscular vagina.

Do female bodybuilders have more muscular vaginas, just like they have hypermuscular biceps, quads, and delts? Eh, probably not. Unless they spend 30 to 40 minutes per day doing Kegel exercises (for reasons that have nothing to do with pregnancy or curing urinary incontinence) I don’t see why their vaginas would be any more tight or durable than “normal” women. It’s a fascinating topic to ponder, but I don’t think any peer-reviewed research on the matter has ever been (seriously) conducted.

Yet, fans of muscular women still wonder whether the buff and brawny ladies they love also happen to be size queens. Instead of discussing on a cultural/social/scientific level the veracity of this claim let’s talk about why people like us wonder – or even dream about – the Muscle Queen/Size Queen motif.

A female bodybuilder is not just a woman, but an Enhanced Woman. Or a Woman. Or a WOMAN. You get the idea. As fans, we treat these women as being new and improved versions of their non-muscular peers. They’re superior. They’re the next step in the evolution of womanhood. They’re ahead of the curve. They redefine the limits (or perceived limits) of feminine identity. They’re not just larger than life; they are life and everyone else is in the unenviable position of trying to catch up.

In our imaginations, female bodybuilders do everything bigger, better, and bolder than everyone else. We think of them as superhuman beings who break down every single wall we try to build around them and can reconstruct their identities from scratch. Everything they do is done to push the boundaries of what is possible.

A woman can’t be as muscular as a man? Nope!

A muscular woman can’t also become a successful business entrepreneur? Try again!

A woman can’t be muscular and feminine at the same time? Sorry!

Can a muscular woman prove her doubters wrong every single time? You better believe it!

Can a female bodybuilder turn her muscles into a financial asset? Yup!

Is it possible for a female bodybuilder to be hugely muscular and irresistibly sexy at the same time? Bruh. Do I even need to answer this question?

So not only can a female bodybuilder not be put into a box, she seemingly has no limitations to what she can accomplish in her life. Her potential for success knows no boundaries. And whatever so-called boundaries do exist are nothing more than an invisible fence propped up by your feeble mind. Fans of FBBs perceive these women to be almost like the next step in the Evolutionary Scale, a preview of what humanity will look like in 500 years.

These perceptions also apply to how we view their sex lives. If a female bodybuilder can transform her body to become superhuman, does it not also make sense that her sexual preferences would also be superhuman? And what could be more superhuman than to prefer to have sex with a large penis?

A popular genre of porn features a small, skinny, and petite young lady having sex with a large man with a big penis. Many times it’s “interracial,” but that’s sort of beside the point. We see the young woman tremble, moan, squirm, and quiver in pain as the large piece of man meat penetrates her diminutive body. Even though there’s little scientific evidence that “smaller framed” women have small vaginas while “larger framed” women have bigger ones, porn is rarely ever based in reality.

But many people get turned on by seeing our tiny female protagonist experience a jarring mixture of pleasure and pain as our well-endowed male costar pounds her inexperienced (in other words, “virginal”) vagina into submission. The violent subtext is a bit disturbing, but that’s unfortunately the world we live in today. I don’t really find such porn to be exciting, but I don’t speak for the entire population.

However, if there’s anyone on planet Earth who is tough enough to endure – and unapologetically enjoy – being pounded by a huge penis, it would be a female bodybuilder. She’s tough as nails in the gym, so of course she’d also be tough as nails in the bedroom. She’s “Woman enough” to handle such a prodigious piece of masculine meat.

Not only that, but she also enjoys having such a big penis inside her. Unlike our weak little starlet who is almost on the verge of tears as she’s having sex with her male costar, a female bodybuilder wants him to pound her harder and harder until he gives up. She isn’t experiencing sex with gritted teeth, but instead a smile. This scenario isn’t what I find to be particularly arousing, but once again, my tastes should not in any way be considered universal.

Many of us fantasize about our Muscle Queens also being Size Queens because we love the idea that they’re hard to tame. If you share the “Taming the Wild Beast” fantasy, you know what I’m talking about. As a weaker man (assuming you are a physically weaker man), we cannot lift more than a female bodybuilder or beat her in a wrestling match. So how can we assert our masculinity around her? Easy! We can make love to her and give her such a satisfying, spine-tingling orgasm that she becomes limp, drained of energy, and intoxicated by our male superiority. By Taming the Wild Beast, we men can reclaim our rightful position as being the dominant sex, all through the act of sex. As she’s cuddling up next to you, purring like a kitten, you beam with pride like a Man’s Man.

For many reasons, society tends to associate penis size with one’s level of masculinity. The bigger the member you have, the more “manly” you obviously are. It’s a crude measuring stick (no pun intended), but pop culture is more often than not simplistic and rudimentary. For men who feel insecure about themselves, watching a man thrust his big penis in and out of a muscular woman’s vagina until she reaches orgasmic climax is the ultimate turn-on. It’s vicarious entertainment intended to allow the male viewer to finally be able to dominate a female bodybuilder by proxy.

We can’t bench press more than her, but damn it we can sure as hell give her such a mind-blowing orgasm that she’ll be on her knees begging for more!

This fantasy speaks not only to our desire to see a muscular woman as being sexually superhuman, it also reveals our subconscious yearning to reclaim our masculinity. For an emotionally emasculated man, we see a female bodybuilder as a symbol of what society has become. Women are now in high positions of social, political and economic power. Men are not necessarily lagging behind, but it sure seems like it. So how can we reposition ourselves toward a return to glory? It’s simple:

Sexual performance.

If we can be so desirable that powerful, independent women become putty in our hands, it doesn’t matter how much money is (or isn’t) in our bank accounts. It doesn’t matter what our job titles are (assuming we actually have a stable job) or who our boss may be. In the outside world, we may be weak, feeble, and emasculated. But in the bedroom (or in our imaginary bedrooms), we are strong, powerful, and unquestionable masculine. We are Kings in our own domain, with our trusted Muscle Queen right by our side. She may be physically stronger than us, but she knows ultimately who’s boss.

It’s us. Heck yeah!

She may have more meat on her arms, but we have more meat where it really matters: between our legs. Sexual fantasies can be really weird at times. This is definitely one of those times.

Okay, let’s recap what we’ve learned. First, there exists in the imaginations of female muscle fans the fantasy of our beloved Muscle Queens also being Size Queens in the bedroom. Second, there is probably very little scientific evidence to suggest that heterosexual muscular women prefer larger penises over smaller or average-sized penises. Third, this fantasy is more based in men’s desires to conquer their sexual insecurities by envisioning a muscular woman being tamed and satisfied by a large penis. Fourth, the Muscle Queen/Size Queen narrative is essentially an assumption borne out of who muscular women actually are: larger-than-life superhumans who possess larger-than-life physical and sexual characteristics.

Angela Salvagno showing off the goods of Melissa Dettwiller.

Muscle Queens are not necessarily Size Queens. And who is and isn’t a Size Queen cannot be objectively predicted. Everyone is different. What we like and dislike in the bedroom often times has nothing to do with our race, ethnicity, culture, standard of living, political/social beliefs, or body type. It probably has more to do with our life experience, openness to new things, and willingness to experiment.

This discussion boils down to how female muscle fans think of themselves in relation to the muscular women they love so dearly. Do you view a muscular woman as a prize? As an object of desire? As a means to an end? As an opponent? As an ally? As the flip side of a coin (with you on the other side)? As a barometer of your own masculinity?

This is not, of course, a judgment on the people who ponder such matters. I often fantasize about this too. It does seem rather disappointing for a strong, powerful, and sexually aggressive muscular woman to feel 100 percent satisfied after making love with a normal-sized penis. Wouldn’t she naturally prefer something bigger and better?

Then I realized this: bigger isn’t always better. And this isn’t just a consolation prize for guys who are insecure about the size of their genitalia. Perhaps this is true for many women. Not all, but many.

Like most sexual fantasies, they expose less about the object of desire and more about the person doing the desiring. We love thinking about our cherished muscular women enjoying the pleasures delivered to them by a large penis because, in vicarious fashion, this is an example of a sexually powerful Man asserting his dominance over a Muscular Woman. She may have lots of beefy meat all over her body, but a Man has his meat where it counts. Perhaps this fantasy is more in tune with the Weak Man/Strong Woman motif that permeates the underground world of female muscle fetishism.

He may be a Weak Man, but he is indisputably strong where it matters: between his legs. She may be a Strong Woman, but she can instantly turn into a weakling the moment his powerful manhood penetrates her during intercourse. He’s not just Taming the Wild Beast, he’s also Reaffirming His Own Inner Wild Beast.

<Is he trying to strip her of the “Wild Beast” crown, or is he willing to share it? Hmmmmm…>

But this also speaks to our belief that muscular women deserve better. They deserve to be satisfied by the most sexually potent and competent men on the planet. There’s an altruistic component to this fantasy as well. Not only are we demonstrating to her our masculine powers, we’re also upholding her right to experience maximum pleasure because she is who she is.

She has the right to experience pleasure. And we are privileged to be able to help make that happen.

She’s strong. She’s beautiful. She’s powerful. She’s dynamic. Because of all this, she deserves the best. She deserves to be with an equally strong, beautiful, powerful, and dynamic man. If he happens to also have an impressive endowment, that’s great. He has the best. And she deserves the best. That’s a match made in coital Heaven.

Naked, Proud, and Defiant: The Fantasy of Seeing a Nude Muscular Woman in Public

Who wouldn't want to see Alina Popa working out at their gym? — Who wouldn’t want to see Alina Popa working out at their gym?

I’ve seen a fair share of muscular women in my life. I’ve seen gorgeous fit women at the gym. I’ve met a number of female bodybuilders for muscle worship sessions. I’ve seen most of these female bodybuilders wearing their Birthday Suit, which means (for those of you in which English is not your first language) wearing absolutely nothing.

Seeing a muscular woman naked is like a spiritual experience. It’s like seeing a divine creature up close and not feeling worthy of being able to do so. It’s like being a layman and visiting the Holy of Holies inside Solomon’s Temple. You know it’s strictly forbidden, but your curiosity will always get the better of you.

As a fan of female bodybuilders, I have plenty of fantasies that I daydream about with great frequency. Making love to a female bodybuilder, having a romantic dinner with a female bodybuilder, snuggling closely with a female bodybuilder by a crackling fireplace, and lots of others. Most of them are quite mundane. Most of my fantasies aren’t kinky, violent, or contain any shred of BDSM fetishism. I don’t want a muscular woman to pee on me (gross!) or to stomp her high heels onto my scrotum (ouch!). If that’s your “thing,” so be it. It’s not mine!

One aspect of my female muscle fantasies that comes close to entering the realm of kinky is voyeurism. Voyeurism isn’t all that kinky or bizarre, but it can cross that threshold if taken to certain extremes. Here’s one simple voyeuristic female muscle fantasy that I have that I often think about:

Imagine you’re taking a casual stroll through a crowded street in a big metropolitan city. It’s Sunday afternoon and you see shoppers milling around, people eating brunch, tourists enjoying what the town has to offer, joggers, dog owners walking their pooches, and teenage kids being up to no good. In other words, it’s a typical pleasant carefree day.

You’re walking round aimlessly, minding your own business. Not a chore to do in the world. All of a sudden, out of the corner of your eye, you see a sight that you’ll never forget. Nor will anybody else who is also witnessing this event. On the opposite side of the street, you see a naked woman nonchalantly walking down the sidewalk; and not just any kind of woman, but a drop-dead gorgeous female bodybuilder.

She’s tall. She’s muscular. She’s completely ripped from head to toe with big swollen muscles. Her thighs could crush a watermelon. She can bend steel with her bare hands. Her broad shoulders take up almost the entire sidewalk. Her perfectly round butt bounces up and down poetically with every step she takes. She isn’t wearing a single article of clothing. She’s willingly allowing people to see every square inch of her stunningly chiseled physique.

People don’t recognize her and treat her like she’s an extraterrestrial visitor from another solar system. Nobody can look away. All eyes are helplessly glued to her. In fact, nobody wants to look away from her. Some are disgusted by her. Others are instantly turned on by her. But everybody stops what they’re doing, dead in their tracks, and stares at her theatrical nude promenade.

Everyone sees her – children, families, little old ladies, packs of teenagers, Catholic nuns, stoners, homeless drifters begging for spare change, police officers on patrol, dogs, cats, birds, and every living being within view of her immaculate body.

Not only is she boldly strolling around a crowded public place in the nude, but she’s proud to be doing this! She’s confident. She’s defiant. She’s empowered. She knows she has everyone in the palm of her calloused hand. No one can resist looking at her. And from what she can tell, no one has any desire to resist staring at her powerful body.

The police won’t arrest her for indecent exposure because they’re enchanted with her. The nuns won’t chastise her because they feel like they’re seeing the splitting image of God walking before them. The stoners and drunks sober up immediately. A few homeless folks offer to give her whatever nickels and dimes they have for just the opportunity to get a closer look at her. But she ignores all of these people. She doesn’t have a care in the world. As she continues her triumphant constitutional, she develops a following of people. No one dares touch her, talk to her, or bother her. They react to her with a combination of awe, erotic curiosity, and fear.

The countless individuals who follow her create traffic jams. Cars can’t pass through intersections. A jogger who notices this naked muscular woman accidentally runs into a telephone poll. People take out their cell phones and snap pictures of her. She loves the attention. She craves it. She doesn’t care if her flamboyant performance goes viral. She loves being who she is and will never apologize for it.

She’s worked her entire life to achieve this impeccably muscular body. She knows her body will receive mixed reactions. She knows this exhibitionistic exercise violates social norms. She knows her body is polarizing. But she doesn’t care. All she wants is for the entire fucking world to see it!

Wow. Imagine that for a moment. How would you react if you were one of the thousands of people who witness this moment? What do you think is going through the mind of the female bodybuilder who’s choosing to proudly display her body (and years of hard work) to the masses of onlookers?

But, let’s specifically focus on the narrator of the story. Let’s assume the narrator of the story is a secret admirer of muscular women. He (or she) may be caught off guard by our audacious performer (let’s call her “Ginger”), but once he realizes it’s happening he goes with the flow and loves every minute of it. Or, let’s assume he knows it’s going to happen ahead of time and enjoys watches it unfold just to see how other people will react.

Will Ginger get jeers from unpleasant trolls? Will the police try to arrest her? Will mothers cover the eyes of their children? Will husbands get slapped in the face by their wives because they can’t stop drooling over her? Will the kindly grandmas suddenly become militant and start to lecture her about the lack of decency she’s exhibiting? Will she inadvertently cause car collisions and pedestrians to trip over themselves? How far is Ginger planning to stroll through the neighborhood? Will she ignore the voices hurling unsolicited remarks toward her? Will she do something more daring like pose for pictures or allow strangers to touch her body?

I fantasize about being our protagonist. I’m just as aroused by seeing a muscular naked woman in public as I am witnessing people’s reaction to her. So my fantasy is less about voyeurism and more about exhibitionism. Call it “proxy exhibitionism” or “surrogate exhibitionism.” I’m not the one who’s nude in public, but I’m on her team. By extension, her display of courageous nudity is also mine as well. Ginger and I could be in cahoots. Maybe I’m conspicuously video recording the whole ordeal. Maybe I’m working with Ginger to make her go viral. Maybe I’m collaborating with her to plan and execute this innovative guerrilla marketing campaign.

Regardless, I love the feeling of making other people uncomfortable. No matter who you are, you cannot witness a naked muscular woman in public (or even a non-muscular naked woman) without feeling some sort of visceral reaction. How can you not?

This fantasy is rooted in the desire to break down social norms and shove certain sexual taboos into people’s faces. It’s one thing to see a naked muscular woman in the privacy of her hotel room (and, it should be noted, this whole interaction is completely consensual) and it’s quite another to see her out in public in the least private manner possible. Meeting her for a muscle worship session is intimate; this fantasy is the total opposite of intimate.

I’ve seen interviews with FBBs who say they enjoy getting stares from people when they’re in public spaces. I’m sure there are many who do not like such unwarranted attention. But it’s undeniable that a number of them do receive a thrill from knowing there are hundreds of pairs of eyeballs fixated in their direction. Likewise, I want to see people react to seeing an FBB out in the open. Even though I am not a female bodybuilder, I also receive a thrill (by extension) from the intense attention she receives.

Theresa Ivancik wearing a sexy red dress. Meow.

Female bodybuilders receive two kinds of responses from people: lust and disgust. Just read the comments left behind on YouTube videos of FBBs. Some commenters are completely in love with them, and others are irrationally repulsed by them. There doesn’t seem to be a middle ground. So the fantasy I described above panders to both audiences: it gives the people who lust over her a little “show” that they’re bound to enjoy and it gives the people who are disgusted by her a demonstration of defiance and spite.

The best way to counter the “haters” isn’t to ignore them, but to intentionally shove your successes down their throats.

Ah yes. How sweet it is!

A part of this fantasy can be partially explained by my own personal life. As an Asian man, I often hear jokes about guys like me having a small penis. Even when people aren’t joking, they just assume that I’m “small down there” because of my ethnicity. It’s either people trolling me (and guys like me) or spouting off what they think to be “scientific-based” evidence. Regardless, I get pretty sick and tired of hearing this.

I often fantasize about doing this exact same thing as Ginger. I want to walk down a crowded street completely naked and see how people react to me doing this. I want my body (and penis) to be seen by everyone around me. Will women giggle and whisper to their friends all sorts of insulting things? Will men smirk at me and insist their packages are much larger than mine? Or will neither of those things happen?

Part of me wants to do this (although I won’t ever actually do this!) just for the sake of self-empowerment. It sounds clichéd, but it is what it is. Instead of being ashamed of my body (or a certain part of my body), I want to defiantly show it off no matter what the consequences would be. Likewise, I also fantasize about seeing a female bodybuilder do this. People might make fun of her shrunken breasts. Other will comment about her large clitoris and insist that it’s really a man’s penis. Some may even call her a man. But it doesn’t faze her at all. She’s going to be who she is despite what her critics say.

Naked, Proud, and Defiant.

On a side note, have you noticed that people who tend to say “I don’t care what the critics say” are usually the ones who (ironically) really care what their critics have to say? This claim is a defense mechanism that’s meant to downplay the role that critics play in your life. If you view outside voices as being irrelevant to your life’s choices, then what point is there to getting emotional over what those voices have to say?

If women like Kristy Hawkins strolled around the pool more often, I'd go swimming every single day! — If women like Kristy Hawkins strolled around the pool more often, I’d go swimming every single day!

I often wonder how well female bodybuilders tune out negative voices. To a certain degree, they all can. But realistically speaking, it’s nearly impossible to avoid vitriol in every moment of your waking life. Sooner or later, you’re going to hear hurtful or spiteful remarks directed your way. So how do you counter them? One method is to do what I’ve fantasized about: put yourself so out there that eventually your critics get sick and tired of saying damaging things to you. Obviously you can’t just prance around naked in public areas, but there are alternative methods at your disposal.

You can wear short sleeved shirts. You can wear shorts (in the summertime) that generously show off your thick legs. You can wear skimpy athletic swag at the gym. And of course, you can choose to post photos of your beautiful body on the Internet. These suggestions of alternative ways to flaunt what you got are being done by large numbers of FBBs already.

But the “Naked, Proud, and Defiant” fantasy has less to do with how a muscular woman feels about herself and more to do with how fans of muscular women feel about themselves. We don’t expect a muscular woman to feel compelled to put herself out there. She is under absolutely no obligation to do so. She can be as private as she chooses to be. If her husband (or wife) is the only person on planet Earth who is privileged to see her naked, so be it. As fans, we are not entitled to her body. But in our private thoughts, we can fantasize about whatever we want to.

Deep down inside, female muscle fans want their fetishes to be validated. I suppose that’s true of every fetish, sexual orientation, and kinky interest in existence. We want muscular women to be more accepted in society because, logically speaking, that could potentially lead more women to pursue bodybuilding, CrossFit, and lifting at the gym – which then leads to a surplus of more women with big muscles in the world (yay!).

Muscular women are rare in our society and female muscle fans want nothing more than for that to drastically change. But we all know realistically that’s not going to happen. So, we fantasize about the next best thing and wish that one day we’ll miraculously witness a gorgeous strong woman proudly showcase her nude body to all who surround her.

Seeing a beautiful non-muscular woman in public is not a big deal, though still a pleasant sight nevertheless. Most of us who catch a glimpse of a pretty lady will appreciate how she looks and quickly forget about her minutes after she leaves. For example, yesterday I saw an incredibly gorgeous Asian girl on a public train in Downtown Seattle. I did not think about her again until I wrote this sentence. Why did I forget about her? Because she was damn pretty, but not out of the ordinary. That’s why.

But what if I saw a gorgeous muscular woman (of any ethnicity) sitting on the same train wearing a revealing sundress that leaves very little to the imagination? I can guarantee you I wouldn’t stop thinking about her. Heck, I might write an entire blog post dedicated entirely to describing my experience seeing her sitting on that train! I’d jot down that article in 10 minutes flat and promptly publish it without editing it too much, spelling and punctuation errors be damned. But alas, she was undeniably beautiful but not exceptionally remarkable.

Seeing Colette Nelson in private is one thing, but seeing her dressed like this in the "outside world" would be a totally different animal. — Seeing Colette Nelson in private is one thing, but seeing her dressed like this in the “outside world” would be a totally different animal.

So, this fantasy speaks to my desire to see something remarkable unfold without prior expectation of it happening. When I visit a female bodybuilder for a muscle worship session, I know what to (reasonably) expect. The anticipation, excitement, and nervousness will still be there, but nothing that happens in the next hour will shock or surprise me. On the other hand, running into a complete stranger of a female bodybuilder in the outside world is a whole different matter. In the “outside world,” I don’t expect to run into women who look like Theresa Ivancik. If I were to do so, all bets are off!

But not only do I want to witness something unexpectedly beautiful, I also want others to experience it too. I don’t want to see car accidents happen as a result of a beautiful FBB strolling down the sidewalk, but a sick side of me sort of does! I want people to be stunned by her. I want her shake up our social order. I want her to cause chaos. I want others to be as spellbound by her as I am.

I want a muscular woman to proudly be herself and people who don’t like her can go f**k themselves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yikes. That’s quite an emotional response, but sexual fantasies aren’t always perfectly rational. To conclude, the “Naked, Proud and Defiant” fantasy can be explained by the pent up frustration female muscle fans often feel when it comes to the women we love. We love them to death, but not everyone else does. People can say the most horrifying things about them, and we feel powerless to do anything about it. Trolls feel emboldened to insult, diminish, and belittle these women, and we feel that they’re also attacking us indirectly.

We feel helpless and voiceless, so we secretly want an FBB or two to take direct action and shut up these “haters” in the most bold and audacious way possible. But we also want them to change the hearts and minds of those who aren’t necessarily “haters” but are either indifferent or on-the-fence about them. Basically, we want them to be more “out there” than they currently are.

Their bodies are beautiful. Like patrons visiting a prestigious art museum, we want to immerse ourselves in beauty whenever possible. The “Naked, Proud, and Defiant” fantasy opens the doors for that to happen.

How to Deal with Negativity Directed Against Female Bodybuilders

Love the tight red dress Glenese Markes is wearing.

Let’s face it. Being a female bodybuilder isn’t easy.

And I’m not talking about the lifestyle, dieting, excruciating workout regiments, supplementations, lack of financial security, intense preparation, competitive nature of the business, paying for food/personal trainers/gym memberships, or any of that.

I’m referring to the negativity that can be directed against them on a daily basis.

I’m not a female bodybuilder, of course. But from what I’ve read in online comment sections, chat forums and Facebook conversation threads, nastiness targeted against our beloved ladies is all too common. The advent of the Internet has made this type of negativity easier to propagate.

To a lesser extent, fans of female bodybuilders (especially straight men) are also susceptible to mean spirited attacks, jabs, jokes and insults.

Now please don’t misinterpret me. I am in no way shape or form comparing the trials and tribulations of a female bodybuilder to that of their fans. The negativity we face does not even come close to comparing to the social taboo of a human female putting lots and lots of strong muscles on her body. There is no comparison.

But, both sides face unfortunate backlash nevertheless. This explains why so many of us choose to explore our female muscle fandom in secret. Anonymity is a gift from God. In today’s world, we are freer than ever before to pursue our interests without fearing our friends, family or neighbors will ever find out.

Female bodybuilders do not have such a luxury. Not only is the evidence of their life’s calling bare for all to see, it’s very difficult to hide other activities (such as offering muscle worship services, participating in pornographic photo/video shoots, maintaining a sexually explicit website, etc.) from the public’s eye. Not in our 21^st century world of high speed communications and the proliferation of user-generated media.

So, it seems appropriate to discuss how female muscle fans should respond to such negativity. Insults, dehumanizing attitudes, negative stereotypes, gender-based discrimination – all of that exists out there for everyone to witness. And this goes way beyond the world of female bodybuilding. Politics, religion, pop culture, sports…the list goes on and on.

Why can explain this? Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems like our ability as a society to conduct calm, rational and productive dialogue has gone totally out the window. But, to be completely honest, this is a whole other discussion for another time.

For the time being, here are some practical strategies, tips and general guidelines both female bodybuilders (and I do know for a fact that a small handful of real-life FBBs regularly read my blog!) and avid fans of female bodybuilders can follow when dealing with negativity directed against our collective interests.

1. Negativity is inevitable and will probably never go away

This is a difficult reality to deal with, but unfortunately it’s true. I’m sure many of you have heard this popular catchphrase before:

Haters gonna hate.

Sound familiar? It should. Basically, the colloquial expression “haters gonna hate” means your critics are going to criticize you regardless of who you are, what you’ve done, or what you plan on doing. Celebrities, politicians, athletes, powerful business leaders and nearly everyone who puts themselves out there in the public domain will experience “hate” from someone.

I should hurry up and say that “hate” is a strong word, as our mothers have all pointed out to us before. While there are disturbed people out there who truly hate certain others (and have very dangerous ill intentions toward them), most of the “hate” I’m referring to is more of a “dislike.” Most of the negativity thrown toward a female bodybuilder on a Facebook conversation thread is not “hate speech.” I wouldn’t categorize it that way.

Erica Cordie showing off her triceps while wearing a gorgeous white dress.

But feelings of disgust, distrust, suspicion, jealousy, envy and betrayal are par for the course for any celebrity, regardless of who they are or what they’ve actually done to garner this negativity. It’s going to happen. It sucks, but it happens and there’s no use in denying it or crossing your fingers and hoping it will miraculously go away.

It won’t. Sorry.

Haters gonna hate. It sucks. But you have no choice but to grit your teeth and live with it.

Now that we’ve established this fact, let’s move on to my next point…

2. You don’t have to personally respond to every bit of negativity

It’s tempting to respond to a bigoted comment with an equally bigoted one of your own. My recommendation is that you don’t do that. Try to avoid becoming the attacker yourself even after you’ve been the victim of an attack.

Even though the popular adage “fight fire with fire” is perfectly appropriate to certain areas of life, it simply isn’t always the most prudent strategy. If negativity is inevitable and will probably never go away (as we previously discussed above), then why fight against it? Why fight against every little attack that comes your way? Why pull yourself into battles that will make you lose your temper and could potentially ruin your day?

My basic point is that life is all about picking and choosing your battles. Some battles are more important than others.

If a complete stranger on the web thinks all female bodybuilders are gross and look like men, do you really want to feed into this troll’s desire to instigate a fight? If they truly feel that way and aren’t trolling, will viciously attacking them radically make them change their minds?

Probably not.

If you do feel obligated to respond to a severe ad hominem attack, consider why you’re responding and whether it’s worth the effort. Not every attacker deserves to be counter-attacked. Pick and choose your battles because if you exhaust yourself fighting a series of “little battles,” will you not be drained of all your energy once a truly “big battle” comes your way?

3. Consider the appropriate way to respond before actually responding

The problem with our instant gratification society is that we can speak our minds in a public forum at an instantaneous rate which leaves us vulnerable to letting our emotions get the better of us.

Thankfully, you don’t have to be like that. If you do choose to respond to vitriol, make sure your response is well thought-out, appropriate and productive.

Countering an inflammatory remark with one of your own only adds fuel to an already out-of-control fire. Don’t give in to that garbage. Instead, be the “better person” and take the “high road” if possible. Remember that the person you’re responding to is an actual human being who deserves dignity (and yes, respect!) even though you may not think he/she does.

Melissa Wee showing off her bikini body.

I want to highlight the importance of “productive.” In my estimation, “productive” is achieved when you create an open dialogue that tries to reach a level of mutual understanding. You don’t necessarily need to “convince” this person to come over to your side, but you do need to communicate your point while at the same time understanding where they’re coming from.

I’m not telling you what to do. All I’m recommending is that whatever you do you should have some sort of tangible objective in mind. Instead of just satisfying a raw emotional need to lash out against your “haters,” consider what good can come out of this.

4. Never stoop down to their level

This is really important when trying to conduct a dialogue with someone. No matter how tempting it is to get in the trenches and engage in a war of words with them, never stoop down to their level. Even if it means bailing out on a conversation, you should always maintain your own dignity at all times.

We’re female muscle fans. We love strong women. Why should we get defensive whenever someone verbally attacks the women we love so much? We’re better than that. We need to be strong, too. We need to prove that our love for female bodybuilders doesn’t need to be defended. There’s nothing to defend. It is what it is. It’s our interest. We don’t have to justify ourselves to anyone, especially someone who finds our admiration for them disgusting.

Never reduce yourself to the point where you’re trading insults with more insults. Don’t argue that we love strong women because fat women are disgusting or a “real woman” has meat on her bones, not all skin and bones.

I have nothing negative to say about Danielle Reardon.

That’s not the right approach. Bringing down others in order to make yourself feel better is never justified. Becoming malevolent rarely ends well. Be cautious about your tone. Respond with ideas, not raw emotions.

5. Point out the positives of loving female bodybuilders whenever you can

I think there is great value in appreciating strong women. Not only are we encouraging women to pursue their dreams of strengthening and bettering themselves, we’re helping shatter the stereotype of women being “weak” or “dainty.” You only stay weak if you start to accept your weakness. By admiring female bodybuilders and athletes, we’re expressing our beliefs that women can be strong too (and that women should be strong). How can you not go along with that?

A great way to respond to negativity is to point out the positives. A positive mixed with a negative becomes neutral, right? I’m no chemist, but let’s pretend I’m right.

Point out that strong women are beautiful. Mention that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Never refrain from saying that female bodybuilders are some of the most driven, rebellious and hardworking human beings on this planet. Discuss the idea that men who love female muscle aren’t weird, but open-minded and open-hearted.

Counter hate with love. Don’t tear down a person’s argument by attacking them. Instead, try building up your own argument. People hate what they don’t understand. Make them understand.

Aleesha Young is simply a spectacle to behold.

6. When all else fails, tune out the noise

Sometimes, it’s best to just ignore the vitriol. If haters gonna hate, why even bother listening in the first place? You’re only going to just make yourself more and more angry.

Life is too short to be upset all the time. I understand there’s a lot of terrible stuff happening in the world every single day. I get that. But do you really have to let every little bit of negativity that comes your way affect you on a personal level?

Some people will never understand. Others will try to understand but still choose to be repulsed by it. Oh well. That happens. Shit happens. Accept it. Tune out the noise. Don’t let it drag on your psyche. Don’t let venom cramp your style.

Don’t hesitate to put on your imaginary headphones and play your own music if the tunes you’re stuck with in the real world suck big time. Just make sure you don’t bottle yourself up in a silo of self-righteousness. That is also unhealthy.

7. Enjoy your female muscle fandom in all its glory

Have fun. Go to bodybuilding shows. Watch videos of your favorite ladies working on their craft. Read their blogs. Visit their websites. Set up muscle worship sessions with them if they’re travelling to your area. Live out your female muscle fandom to the fullest.

I’m going to assume that female bodybuilders love their fans. Who wouldn’t? Be the best fan you can be. Don’t let those “haters” prevent you from pursuing your interests. Our interests are unusual. But they don’t have to be suppressed.

Explore your interests in a healthy way, of course. Don’t become a stalker or spend all your money on sessions when you don’t have the resources to do so. But never let society dictate what you like. You decide what you like. So like it!

***

To summarize, the lesson to be learned is simple: Always take the high road.

Always.

I understand why vitriol exists. People feel entitled to their opinions, and consequently, entitled to sharing those opinions! I’m a big fan of freedom of expression and freedom of speech. But with that comes the challenge of dealing with the inevitable hurt feelings, wounded pride and fear of public humiliation.

For all of us female muscle fans (and those of you who are actual FBBs), I suggest taking the high road whenever possible. Don’t feel scared about being attracted to a woman with muscles on her body. Embrace it! Don’t feel obligated to respond to every venomous comment. Life is too short to spend all your free time wallowing in bitter resentment.

Instead, be strong. Be strong in your convictions, your thoughts, your feelings, your interests. Be strong in who you are and what you like.

Always.

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

Can you imagine going to the beach and seeing Tonia Moore stretching out?

Later that afternoon, Max and Marie leave the beach and decide to explore the town a little more. Perusing through shops, street vendors and other obvious tourist traps; people still could not help but stop and stare at this very unorthodox couple.

“Holy shit! She’s huge! I mean, look at her muscles!” one passerby whispers to his friend.

“Lucky guy to be with a buff beauty like her!” another pedestrian remarks to no one in particular.

“Mommy! Is that a boy or a girl?” an innocent little girl asks her mother. The mother had no response other than dropping her jaw at the sight of Marie’s bulging biceps.

Wearing a tight fitting pink sundress and sandals, Marie shows no shame or hesitation in displaying her large muscles for everyone to see. In fact, she wants the whole world to see her hard work in plain view. She gets a tingling sensation deep within her soul every time complete strangers do nothing but stare at her in awe.

It is this sensation that Max cleverly knew to exploit.

“I’m thirsty. Shall we get something to drink?” Max suggests. Strolling through an art pawn shop, Max was quickly losing interest in walking around town doing nothing. He wanted a change of pace. Marie senses Max’s insistence to do something different.

“Are you about to give me my dare?” she casually asks.

“Maybe…” he begins, “maybe not. We’ll see. Follow me, my love.” Max and Marie link arms and leave the art shop. The shop owner’s eyes were as big as dinner plates as he watches Marie’s sexy muscular body walk out of his establishment.

“Let’s get some shaved ice. Over there!” Max says.

Minutes later, Max and Marie were heading back to their hotel (they coincidentally booked the same hotel) enjoying a cup of fruity shaved ice. Max is almost done as they approach the front steps of the hotel. Marie is only halfway finished because she could not stop talking about the deliciousness of this exquisite dessert.

“God, this is amazing! I almost never eat any sweets. The bodybuilding lifestyle doesn’t allow for too much sugars or candies. This is heavenly, Max. Great suggestion!” By now Marie has completely finished her shaved ice. She tosses the paper cup into a nearby trash bin. Max follows suit and does the same.

Cabo looks like such a great vacation spot.

“Alright. Now what?” Marie enthusiastically asks. She grabs Max by the waist and brings him closer to her body. Her musky smell turns on Max. As if their previous coupling on the beach wasn’t enough to satiate him, he still desired her unlike any man has ever desired any woman. He knew what happens next will test the limits of his uncontrollable craving for her.

“You want to know what’s next? I have my dare for you. Are you ready to hear this?”

Marie excitedly perks up when she hears this. She takes Max’s hands into hers and kisses him softly on the lips. The sweet aftertaste of the shaved ice sends shivers down his spine. He feels his manhood awaken. She notices the beginnings of dampness forming between her long, thick legs.

“Yes. I’m ready. Tell me what to do.” She kisses him again, this time playfully biting his upper lip.

“I dare you to walk from here to the end of the street and back,” Max begins, pointing toward the busy boulevard full of pedestrians and bicyclists, “…completely naked.”

He smiles. She blinks.

“Are you serious? You want me to walk a good seven or eight blocks…totally in the nude?”

“Yes. I am being one hundred percent serious. You dared me to fuck you in public, right? Well, now I dare you to stroll down this busy street wearing nothing but your birthday suit.” Max notices Marie is wearing nothing but her dress, panties and sandals. Getting her completely nude would not be a problem. It’s convincing her to go through with it that will.

“I, uh…well, I don’t know about this…er…” Marie stumbles through her words. She cannot think of a reason to refuse.

“What are you unsure about? We’re on vacation. Nobody knows who we are. Even if they did, think about all the free publicity this little stunt would generate. Besides, you even told me yourself. You’re proud of your body. You want everyone to look at your body. Now this is your chance.” He returns the favor and kisses her. Max also nibbles on her upper lip. She blinks once more.

Marie stops to think. She’s seriously contemplating Max’s dare. He’s right. She’s very damn proud of her body. What does she have to hide? Is she ashamed of herself? Of course not! She’s very fucking proud of who she is and all the strenuous hard work she’s done to get her body to look this way. Forget decency! This isn’t the time or the place for that!

“Alright. Agreed. I’ll do it. Will you join me?”

“That’s not part of the deal!”

“I know. I’m just asking,” Marie says. Max considers.

“We’ll see.”

She laughs. He laughs too. But before he knew it, Marie impulsively pulls off her dress, drops her panties to the ground and kicks off her sandals. She picks everything up and hands them to Max. He quickly finds a nearby bush and hides her clothing behind it. He turns around and looks at this gorgeous muscular wearing absolutely nothing. Her stunning figure steals his breath. Already a few hotel employees stop dead in their tracks and stare at her. What is this beautiful female bodybuilder doing standing around completely nude in broad daylight? Is she out of her mind? What the hell is going on here?!

Before the hotel employees could process what they were staring at, Marie begins her triumphant promenade down the busy street. Passerby cars stop to look at her. A bicyclist nearly runs into a utility pole. A dozen or so pedestrians freeze at the mere sight of her. Marie’s immense sexual power emanates from her entire being. Max is enjoying every minute of it.

“Take a look at me, Cabo!” Marie screams from the top of her lungs. Max giggles uncontrollably. More cars stop in the middle of a green light as Marie crosses the intersection. Motorists start to honk their horns until they discover what all the fuss is about. People speaking Spanish yell at her thing she couldn’t understand. A few whistles and hoots are heard from all directions. More pedestrians stop cold and are powerless to resist looking at her.

Voices everywhere seemingly scream all at once:

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Is that a man? No, it’s a fucking chick! And she’s naked, bro! Look!”

“Holy shit! There’s a buff chick walking down the street! What the fuck?”

“Look, look, look at that! Check out that muscular girl! Holy fuck, she’s naked! And really buff!”

“Wow! Holy hell, that’s one gorgeous woman. Wow!!!”

“Dude, dude! Check it out! Seriously, over there! Who is that?”

“WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUCK????????????!!!!!!!!!!”

Marie has reached past the first intersection and is now walking down the next block. Max follows closely behind so to not attract too much attention. He smiles at the sense of joyful rebellion Marie is demonstrating at the moment: Uncaring about what people think about her, proud of her body and not afraid to show it off in all its primal glory for all to see (whether they like it or not). Nothing turns on Max more than witnessing this majestic display of open defiance.

Moments later, Marie stops at a busy cross street and poses for camera phone pictures. A few tourists with professional-quality cameras get down on one knee and take more “artistic” photographs. There may have been a camera crew shooting a low-grade beer commercial that stopped what they were doing and pointed their cameras at her instead. A large group has developed around her. It seems like everyone in Cabo at the moment is crowding around this street to take a peek at Marie’s divine nude muscular body.

Her delts, biceps, triceps, pecs, quads, hamstrings, glutes, calves, abdomen, forearms and sharply defined muscle striations were the talk of the town. No one could keep their eyes off of her.

“Come on, Max! Join in on the fun!” Marie yells. Everyone turns toward Max and stares at him. They now realize he is with her. Is he her husband? Boyfriend? Or just a casual friend? The masses had to know!

“I don’t know…I mean…” Max stutters. He tries to resist joining her in this very public display of nudity, but a voice inside his head is telling him to unrepentantly give in.

“Max, Max, Max, Max!” Marie chants.

“Max! Max! Max! Max!” the crowd chants along.

Screw decency! Max decides to bite the bullet and do what the lady says.

As he strips off his shorts and t-shirt, the crowd goes wild with cheering and hollering. Down to his boxers, the chants of Max’s name grows louder and louder. The raucous noise is almost too much to bear. The deafening racket is almost painful to his ears. Finally, Max rips off his underwear and is completely nude. The crowd screams loudly as if Max had just hit the game winning home run in the World Series.

Marie holds out her hand. Max takes it unabashedly. Holding hands like old lovers, this unlikely couple poses for more impromptu photos and video. God, will his friends and family find out about this back home? Probably! But at this moment, he couldn’t care less about any of that. For now, all he could think about what himself and his Muscle Goddess friend.

The unconventional sight of a beautiful 47-year-old female bodybuilder holding hands with a 23-year-old scrawny Asian guy must be jarring to anyone not caught up in the heat of the moment. But for the time being, all anyone could care about was becoming part of this improvised street parade.

Max and Marie continue their walk down the street to complete his dare to her. Neither one of them knows what’s going to happen with his clothes. They’ll worry about that at a later time.

About ten to fifteen other people have joined the fun and stripped down naked as well. When in Rome, right?

“Why is she with this Asian guy? He has a small dick!” one drunk and obnoxious observer screamed at the top of his lungs.

Marie hears this and looks at Max. Max blushes, embarrassed at his penis’s shriveled appearance. The cool breeze sweeping over them isn’t making his manhood look too flattering! Immediately sensing his insecurity, Marie holds onto Max’s hand tighter and kisses him on the neck. Max’s heart warms like never before.

If I saw Nikki Fuller and Amber DeLuca engage in this type of activity in public, I'd definitely stop and stare. Wouldn't you? — If I saw Nikki Fuller and Amber DeLuca engage in this type of activity in public, I’d definitely stop and stare. Wouldn’t you?

At last, the parade reaches the end as Marie and Max can finally see the edge of the beach. The street ends and splits off into opposite directions parallel to the water. Their large crowd is still enthusiastically following them from behind. Some of the other naked followers have begun posing for pictures themselves. Others are making out and engaging in other not-so-subtle sexual activity.

“Well, this is the end. Shall we walk back?” Marie whispers into his ear.

“Nah. I like it out here. There’s a cool breeze. The sun is starting to set. Let’s stay out here for a few moments. Let’s enjoy what we have right now,” Max says.

After a few moments pass, Marie has an idea.

“Let’s show these people that I love being with you. Let’s show them what that small dick of yours can do!” she says.

This grabs Max’s attention. Is she being serious right now? Is she saying they should–

But before he could think another thought, Marie squats down and puts her mouth over Max’s penis and begins sucking on it. The crowd erupts in a round of applause. Stroking her tongue around the sensitive tip, Max’s manhood is now fully engorged and ready for anything.

Marie lies down on a grassy area and spreads her legs wide. The crowd circles around them. As if on an entirely different planet, Max ignores his surroundings and plunges his “small dick” inside her. She moans loudly, perhaps a little too loudly, just to prove a point. She wants everyone to know that Max is a man, perhaps more of a man than anybody watching them!

As Max passionately makes love to Marie, several other couples follow suit, just like back at the beach earlier in the day. Good Lord, is everyone down here in Cabo San Lucas this horny and unhinged?

They kiss. They fondle each other’s bodies. Max cups her breasts and rubs her six-pack abs. He greedily explores every muscular inch of her perfectly sculpted body. Marie’s cartoonish moans turn to real moans of pleasure as she tightens her vagina around him. She wants them to come at the same time right in front of all these watching people. She doesn’t care if the entire world sees these videos go viral. She wants the whole universe to know that she’s not ashamed to make love to this scrawny, small-dicked Asian guy!

The moans continue. Max feels he’s close. Marie knows she’s even closer. One final thrust later…and they both come together. He feels her strong vaginal walls contract around him as he recklessly spills his seed into her for a second time. Her hot heavy breath raises goosebumps all over his skin. A drop of sweat drips off him and falls on her neck.

Other couples have started to make love too, but Max and Marie are too busy staring into each other’s eyes. Max brushes a lock of hair away from her cheek. He kisses her deeply. Marie carefully pulls his penis out of her vagina and teases it with her fingers. He gasps uncontrollably. Max counters by stroking her massively swollen clitoris with his thumb and index finger, which eventually brings her to another orgasm. She wrestles with him in the grass as they laugh to their heart’s delight.

Eventually, they hear police sirens screeching in the distance. Someone has obviously told the cops that there is a rebellious couple walking around town as naked as the day they were born. Max and Marie snap out of their spell and run back to the hotel as fast as they can.

They laugh. They scream. They giggle. They find moments to kiss between dodging through cars and bicyclists.

Even when they arrive at the hotel, they still continue to sprint at full speed. The police are far from them, but this is a couple that doesn’t have a care in the world. They’ll keep running, and running, and running.

To where, exactly? That doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that they’re daring enough to do it.

The Wow Factor

Before Lindsay Mulinazzi, there was nothing.

I’ve finally figured it out. In all my years of my female muscle fandom, I’ve never really been able to put into succinct words why I love muscular women so much.

Sure, long essays can explain the bread and butter of why I find female bodybuilders and athletes so appealing. I can even post a ton of photos of my favorite FBBs for all of you to salivate over. But that still doesn’t even begin to describe why exactly we love them.

But now I’ve got it figured out. Finally.

Simply put:

The Wow Factor.

That’s it. The Wow Factor. “Wow” is a word we use to describe something so amazing, Earth-shattering, incredible and astonishing that no other monosyllabic utterance could do it justice. Wow. You could substitute that for “whoa,” but let’s not confuse our female muscle fandom for the vernacular of California surfer dudes or college stoner kids. I’m talking about something else here.

Wow. Just…wow.

The Wow Factor is my best way of describing it.

Women like Debi Laszewski are so damn beautiful that “wow” is the only way I can properly react when I see a photo of her. Yes, “Damn girl” or “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn” are also sufficient substitutes, but I’m not interested in catcalling Ms. Laszewski like a dirty-minded construction worker on his lunch break.

I’m interested in communicating what’s on my mind. And “wow” is the only thing on my mind. Is there any other way to put it?

How can this image of Victoria Dominguez lifting this heavy weight not turn you on?

But it’s not just about putting your feelings into words. It’s describing your gut reaction the moment your brain processes what your eyes have just seen. The millisecond your mind realizes that it just saw an image of a strong, gorgeous woman showing off her hard work in all its erotic glory – you can’t possibly articulate what that feels like. No way. It’s a feeling that hits you on a level that goes way beyond mere “attraction.”

It’s not just lust. It’s not just turning your head when you see a pretty woman walking past you and thinking to yourself, “That’s one fine looking lady.” That happens all the time (at least, it happens to me all the time!). The Wow Factor goes way further. The Wow Factor isn’t an everyday occurrence. The Wow Factor changes the way you think. It changes the way you look at women (all women, not just those of the muscular variety). It changes the way you behave. It changes your paradigm.

This Wow Factor explains why bloggers like me continue to post pictures and essays about female muscle nonstop. This explains why guys like me are willing to pay $350 for an hour-long muscle worship session with a complete stranger in a hotel room. This explains why we can’t get enough of those glorious FBBs and their immaculate beauty.

The Wow Factor is a visceral gut reaction you can’t control. Here’s an anecdote for you. As strange as it sounds, sometimes I occasionally forget why I love female muscle in the first place. It’s sort of like a professional baseball player who’s played for 10 years in the league but lacks passion because he plays for a terrible team. But the moment his team catches fire and he’s playing in Game 7 of the World Series, suddenly his childhood love for the game returns and he’s playing with rejuvenated energy.

He suddenly remembers why he loves the game. The nervous energy. The thrill of competition. The joy of victory. The heart-wrenching depression of defeat. That child-like love for the game all of a sudden returns in that moment when you’re actually playing for something.

I sometimes get like that in regards to my female muscle fandom. I know I love strong women, but all it takes is a singular image of Alina Popa flexing her large, beautiful biceps wearing nothing but a microscopic thong bikini, and…I suddenly remember why I think Ms. Popa is a gift from God. I’ve always known that, but The Wow Factor hits me like a semi-truck blindsiding me out of nowhere and I’m instantaneously reminded why I feel the way I feel.

It’s a feeling that causes you to stare at your computer screen with your jaw dropped to the floor and your heart ceasing to beat. It makes me forget that other women exist in this world.

Lisa Cross. Denise Masino. Lindsay Mulinazzi. Angela Salvagno. Victoria Dominguez. Nikki Fuller. Yvette Bova. Amber DeLuca. Autumn Raby. Gayle Moher. Lauren Powers. Annie Rivieccio. Brandi Mae Akers. Jill Rudison. Shannon Courtney. Desiree Ellis. Jana Linke-Sippl. Lora Ottenad. Brenda Raganot. Monica Martin. Gracyanne Barbosa. Juliana Malacarne. Karen Zaremba. Michele Levesque. Sheila Bleck. Monica Brant. Lisa Marie Bickels. Lenda Murray. Iris Kyle. Julie Bourassa. Kris Murrell. Sondra Faas. Vilma Caez. Kris Clark. Melissa Dettwiller.

The list goes on and on and on. This doesn’t even scratch the surface.

Pick anyone on this list and spend five minutes doing a Google Images search on her. I guarantee you’ll be hooked within seconds. You’ll be completely enraptured by her power, beauty and strength. Her feminine prowess and physical stature will make you as hapless as a little puppy dog. You’ll totally forget why you used to ogle at the rail-thin supermodels in the Sears catalog (if you actually at one time did that, I’m really sorry!).

The Wow Factor exemplified in Larissa Reis.

This is what it’s like to experience The Wow Factor. You’re struck by a lightning bolt and feel like there is no definition of “beauty” other than what you’ve just witnessed.

Before Lindsay Mulinazzi, there was nothing.

Sometimes I wonder if this is the reason why there’s so much animosity against female bodybuilders. Haters (who are, pardon the expression, going to hate) have never experienced The Wow Factor. They’ve instead experienced The Ew Factor. The Gross Factor. The Utterly Disgusting Factor. The Why-the-Hell-Would-Anyone-Want-To-Look-Like-That Factor. It saddens me when people choose to shut themselves out from a certain part of life. True, no one has an obligation to like female muscle, but why say “no!” when instead you can choose “sure, why not?”

It’s clear to me that someone who says they’re repulsed by female bodybuilders say that mostly because deep down inside they’re insecure about themselves. They don’t feel secure in their masculinity. They don’t feel secure in their femininity. They react negatively to what they don’t understand or want to understand. They insult others because the only way for them to feel good about themselves is to bring down everyone else. This is a vicious cycle that especially comes out on the Internet. Anonymity brings out the worst in us. There’s no harm in expressing your true feelings when nobody knows your name. Insecurity and a forum for acting upon that insecurity can be a hurtful combination.

One can never see enough photos of Karen Zaremba.

It should be obvious to anyone who follows the sport of female bodybuilding that the industry is pushing our favorite ladies off to the side and telling them “we don’t want you as much as we did in the past.” People may have wanted to see you on the cover of magazines thirty years ago, but that’s all changed now. Iris Kyle will never be a sports superstar. No way. We don’t care how many Ms. Olympia titles she’s won. We don’t care how dominating she is in her sport. None of that is relevant. What speaks is dollars. And, quite frankly, she doesn’t bring in the dollars like others can. Sorry. You lose. Better luck next time.

Does this make you angry? To anyone who’s experienced The Wow Factor, it should.

Additionally, The Wow Factor affects you in one other way: It makes you defensive whenever you feel like your passions are being attacked. How many times have you been told that female bodybuilders look “gross?” How often do you read articles about the decline of female bodybuilding and you just want to throw your computer against the wall? Does replacing the sport with pole dancing competitions make you want to face-palm over and over again till your forehead turns beet red?

These reactions are classic examples of wanting to defend what you love. The Wow Factor makes us feel as though any attack on a strong woman is also an attack on us. Insult the sport of female bodybuilding on a public forum? Expect fans from across the world to fight back. Someone wants to deny Alina Popa’s right to climb the mountaintops and finally win the Ms. Olympia? In no time will you see her countless fans defending her on her behalf.

Though this negative energy can be seen as a bad thing, anything can be used for something positive. Being angry and defensive all the time will get you nowhere. A more constructive use of these emotions is to become pro-active. There are a lot of things we can do to make sure female bodybuilding doesn’t become extinct. Write letters. Send e-mails. Boycott those who vigorously marginalize the FBBs we idolize. Buy books and magazines promoting female muscle. Open your wallets and hearts to the women we adore. Openly support these athletes as if they truly are our best friends. Don’t let society dictate what you find beautiful. Do what you can to make these amazing athletes more mainstream.

What if one day female muscle becomes more mainstream? Imagine a world where gorgeous women like Larissa Reis are seen in the media as often as we see Kate Upton. Think about how awesome it would be if we can turn on the summer Olympics and instead of being perplexed by the presence of strong women, we can just sit back and enjoy watching her hard work being proudly displayed on the world’s brightest stage.

Instead of thinking to ourselves, “Ew!” we can have a more complimentary reaction:

“Wow.”

Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Part Four)

GFBB reached for a bottle of baby oil on a bedside table and dabbed a small amount on the palm of her hand. Lubricating her fingers, I eagerly anticipated the finale to this incredible muscle worship appointment.

Take a deep breath, I tell myself. This is going to be your first time receiving a sexual service from a woman. And not just any woman, but an absolutely gorgeous female bodybuilder whose beauty, sexiness and smarts turn me on like nothing else.

For those of you who don’t know, my sexual history isn’t terribly detailed. I’m a pretty quiet and meek kind of guy. While I don’t consider myself shy around women, connecting with people doesn’t come easy to me. This goes for people in general, but attractive ladies in particular. Am I trying to fix this? Of course I am. But easier said than done, n’est-ce pas?

Still, my manhood isn’t erect yet. Despite the obvious sexual circumstances – me alone with a gorgeous naked woman in a hotel room – I’m feeling more nervous than aroused. This worried me a bit. What if I can’t produce an erection? What if, despite my years and years of experience masturbating and producing erections at will, I fail at the worst possible moment? Let’s face it. Opportunities like this don’t come around too often!

This causes a flood of insecurities to come crashing down upon me. Strangely enough, GFBB must have noticed my awkwardness because she flashed me a compassionate smile after putting the bottle of baby oil back on the table. Did she see fear in my eyes? Did I give off an anxiety-ridden vibe that’s impossible not to notice?

“Can I kiss you?” I ask GFBB. It was an honest question.

“Yes, you can kiss me.”

I lean over and kiss her on the lips. Her lips are sweet, warm and loving. I’m not sure if she’s usually cool with kissing her clients, but I appreciate her willingness to let me indulge a bit. Kissing random strangers is an easy way to get sick so I would not have been surprised if she said “no.” But…she didn’t say no. She said yes!

And how sweet did she taste. Yummy!

We lay on our sides – me on the right side of the bed, GFBB on the left – and came closer together. The scene resembled a couple engaging in foreplay before making love. While that’s not what was going on, in my imagination I can think whatever I want, right?

I stared into her eyes. She slowly reached down and began to stroke my penis. Still soft and small, I tried to make a joke to ease my tension.

“You’d be surprised. It’s not as easy to produce an erection as you’d think.”

She nodded in agreement. She continued to stroke, her lubricated fingers massaging my manhood in an up and down motion. I felt a slight tingle of sensation rising up from my pelvis.

“Can I ask you something?” I innocently asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Have you heard the stereotype about Asian men and their penises?”

She knew where I was going with this.

“You mean…”

“The stereotype that Asian guys are small down there?”

“Honey, here’s what I have to say about that. When you’re in a relationship with a woman, she won’t care. There’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t worry about a thing.”

I sure hope she’s right. But come to think of it, this is neither the time nor the place for me to air out my insecurities. GFBB is a female bodybuilder, not a therapist!

Toni West is so strong, muscular, beautiful and feminine. A perfect combination.

As her fingers resumed their caressing touch, getting that confession off my chest must have done wonders because almost immediately my penis becomes fully erect. Was I having performance anxiety? Probably not, but I felt the need to keep a conversation going in order to calm me down.

My manhood fully engorged, the initial tingling of orgasm began. Her fingers wrapped around my penis with authority, not rushing to bring me to climax but urgent enough to give me a remarkably pleasurable experience. I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, cheek and neck. She may have kissed me back, but I was on a different planet by now. In this moment, I felt like we were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden – two perfect, innocent creations experiencing sexual pleasure for the first time.

Of course, I knew GFBB was not new to performing sex acts. As a mother and middle aged woman, she’s had her fair share of erotic life experiences. But not me. I was the newbie, a stranger to a strange game. I tried to focus on the moment and take it all in.

As I kissed her cheek, lingering on tasting her essence and smelling her feminine fragrance, I knew I was about to come. Her fingers were stroking me more earnestly. Electricity was surging through every nerve ending of my body. My erection became harder, anticipating a satisfying climax. The coolness of the baby oil rubbing against my sensitive skin, satiating my every desire, added to the eroticism.

I tried to whisper something in her ear, but could not bring myself to saying anything. Would it be weird to confess my love for a woman I’ve only known for a little more than an hour? Would she think I’m peculiar for doing so? Or would she understand this is purely something done in the heat of the moment, an irrational act committed by an otherwise rational being?

Before I could whisper anything, I felt a surge of pleasure rising and bursting forth out of my manhood. I knew this was it. The time is now.

I came hard, spurting all over my belly and chest. Her fingers stopped massaging me and she watched as I covered myself with my own seed. I let out a deep sigh. GFBB gave me pleasure I will always remember. For all the time we spent talking philosophy and politics, this moment was the culmination of our shared time together. Frozen in time, perhaps? I have no doubt about it.

A legend in her own right, Lenda Murray.

Eventually, my mind came back down to Earth and I left whatever dreamy metaphysical state it was previously in. GFBB got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to fetch a towel.

“You came quite a bit,” she remarked, evidently impressed with how much semen I released. I looked down at myself and was equally impressed. Quite a lot of warm white liquid lying across my torso!

She returned with a towel and I wiped myself off. She offered me the chance to take a shower. I obliged and hopped into the shower to quickly rinse off before leaving. My mind raced at a million miles per minute during that short shower, still basking in the glory of receiving a hand job from a very sexy, intelligent and strong woman.

I'm not too familiar with Nena Cortes, but I'd sure like to learn more about her! — I’m not too familiar with Nena Cortes, but I’d sure like to learn more about her!

After I dried myself off and dressed, I came back into the room and saw GFBB had put back on her tight blue dress. She was watching TV. Some dreadful highway accident was being covered in the news. I gathered my things and decided it was time to give her the bottle of wine.

I went over to my backpack and took it out.

“I brought a gift for you.”

I hand it to her and she smiles widely.

“Why, thank you! That is very kind. Thanks!”

“This is my way of saying thank you. I had a lovely time.”

We briefly chatted about whatever was happening on the television. Eventually I put on my shoes and socks with my backpack slung over my shoulder. Whew. I knew this was it. It was time to say good bye for good. God knows if I’ll ever have the chance to see her again. GFBB lives in Texas and she tells me this will be her last year doing “appointments.” She’s ready to settle down and quit traveling the world to see guys like me. Hey, that’s her prerogative. She has every right to decide for herself when it’s time to hang up the cleats.

I guess my earlier analogy about meeting a fading sports superstar had some truth to it. GFBB was, in a way, “retiring.” Not from bodybuilding necessarily, but from bringing her show on the road and offering these unique services to her fans. If she indeed will call it a career, then I jumped on this opportunity at the right time. That’s fantastic luck on my part!

We stand in front of each other. I thanked her again for the lovely session. It must have been well past one hour since I first came into this room. At least 75 minutes, I’d estimate.

“One more kiss for the road?”

She nods and we share one last kiss. It was sweeter than any other kiss I’ve ever received. We hugged, said our “goodbyes” and I opened the door to leave.

“Have a good night!” she tells me as I walk out into the dimly lit hallway.

“Good night. Bye, bye!”

I close the door behind me and quickly shuffle toward the main lobby. I kept my head down, scurrying in the direction of the exit so none of the hotel staff would have time to think about who I am and what business I had being here. But, to be honest, what other people were thinking had no bearing on my own thoughts. I could only think about myself and GFBB.

Yikes. Wow. What did I just experience?

Everything was so surreal. Did that really happen? The past 75 minutes were all a blur. I felt like I had an out-of-body experience that seemed real but wasn’t. Like “Inception,” perhaps my appointment with GFBB was nothing more than a fabricated dream that I convinced myself was real.

As I left the hotel and headed back to my car, the rational side of me knew this wouldn’t change anything about my life. I’m in no way shape or form a “new” person for having gone through this spectacular experience. I’m the same person right now as I was minutes before walking into that hotel lobby.

But, there was a part of me that knew that something, however miniscule and incremental, had indeed changed. I might come out of this bolder. I’ve always been moderately cautious throughout my life – this could be a step in a different direction. This might not be a new chapter in my life, but certainly a new page. GFBB didn’t change me. I changed myself. She was my incentive for getting out of my box and trying something new. But not just something new, but something selfish.

I try not to be selfish. I try to be as helpful, accommodating and frugal as I can. My muscle worship session with GFBB completely reversed that tendency. This was 75 minutes of me acting upon my lusts, my carnal desires, my sexual curiosities. This was me doing something purely for me and no one else. I benefitted from this experience alone (except for GFBB, who was a couple hundred dollars richer). This was “me” time.

Could this be the start of a reformed outlook on life? Will I start to live life to the fullest? Will I begin to, perhaps in minor ways, live life more selfishly? There’s nothing wrong with rewarding yourself every once in a while. This evening was my chance to reward myself. This was my chance to take hold of a unique situation and run away with it unashamedly.

GFBB earlier asked me what my mother would think if she knew I was in this hotel room with her. I told her she would probably be shocked. But what would she be more shocked at; the circumstances of the situation (paying a muscular woman to let me touch her body) or the fact that I took the initiative and sought out this opportunity to begin with?

I have no idea. I’ll probably never find out.

Lora Ottenad is not only pretty and strong, but she's local! (at least, for me) — Lora Ottenad is not only pretty and strong, but she’s local! (at least, for me)

So this is why this muscle worship session was the 75 greatest minutes of my life. Do I mean that in a literal sense? Of course not. That’s hyperbole. What I really mean is that this past hour+ could very well change the way I live my life – what jobs I choose to work at, how I spend my free time, how I relate with my family, who I choose to be friends with and what I plan to do with my life.

I know this is crazy. I know this evening will not define me. But I couldn’t help but wonder but this, even months later after the fact. The drive back to my apartment was interrupted by a stop off at Subway to grab a sandwich for dinner. It was approaching 8 p.m. and it was getting dark outside. The sun was fading fast, perhaps a symbolic commentary of the situation.

I returned home, turned on my computer, watched some old clips of “Whose Line is it Anyway?” on YouTube and ate my sandwich in peace. I was at peace. My heart stopped pounding nonstop. My blood pressure returned to normal. All the anticipation and anxiety I felt in the minutes leading up to knocking on GFBB’s hotel door was completely gone. I was at my natural emotional state, albeit whatever philosophical thoughts I had churning through my mind at rapid fire.

When I was done eating, all I could do was lie on my bed and ponder in complete silence. The silence was deafening, yet peaceful at the same time. No distractions. Nothing to stop these wild thoughts racing through me.

But something did eventually break my contemplation. I suddenly remembered something I forgot to ask GFBB before leaving her room.

I forgot to take a picture of her!

Concluded in Muscle Worship, Female Bodybuilders and the Greatest 75 Minutes of My Life (Epilogue)

Female Muscle and Masculine Insecurity

I often wonder why being attracted to muscular women isn’t more mainstream.

Of course, there are the obvious reasons, such as muscular women aren’t commonplace, “society” (however you define that) believes skinny is beautiful and the perception that women with muscles look too much like men.

All these reasons are valid and definitely hold a degree of truth, but there lies a deeper explanation. And that explanation can be summarized into two words: Masculine insecurity.

One has to conclude that, by and large, straight men in America aren’t encouraged to openly admit they like muscular women out of fear they’d be labeled as “not a real man.” What real man would like a woman who is stronger and bigger than himself? I mean, do you really want to marry a lady who can bench press more than you in front of your friends at the gym? Talk about embarrassing.

Then again, one has to also wonder whether this fear is based on other people’s judgments or actual personalized fear. Are guys more afraid of the pure fact that a woman is be stronger than him or the public ridicule that comes with it? It seems like what other people think about you is more important than how you think about yourself.

There’s also the literal fear of a muscular woman.

Are some guys afraid that muscular women are more dangerous than normal women? If your muscular girlfriend gets mad at you, will she start hitting and beating you up like an abusive partner? Would you be powerless to effectively fight back?

I don’t think there’s a strong stereotype (thought it does exist to a degree) that female bodybuilders are more aggressive and violent in nature. Being strong doesn’t mean you always use that strength for belligerent purposes. I don’t think people believe male bodybuilders are more dangerous than “normal” guys.

Blonde Muscle Goddess Melissa Dettwiller.

Nor do we believe professional athletes are more prone to violent behavior than non-athletes. An NFL linebacker may spend their Sundays pounding guys to a pulp, but I don’t think that behavior necessarily translates off the field. Granted, there are professional athletes across all sports who can be violent at times, but that has nothing to do with their profession.

Sadly, plenty of people who don’t play sports for a living commit acts of violence in everyday life. Violence is a result of a large variety of social cues, which are obviously too numerous to explain. Suffice to say it’s foolish to equate muscular strength with any tendency toward violence.

It could be true that people predisposed to aggressive behavior tend to gravitate toward hobbies that exhibit these characteristics; such as boxing, hunting or martial arts. But correlation doesn’t prove causation, a sentiment you’ll hear often on Internet discussion forums.

So, if engaging in activities that create muscular strength (like weightlifting, sports or physically demanding jobs) does not automatically mean that person will be more aggressive, this also means men have nothing to fear when it comes to interacting with muscular women. Obviously, muscular women don’t exactly show up in our lives every day, but discussions surrounding strength and femininity do.

And this is where a heterosexual male’s fear of strong women comes into play. We fear a muscular woman will “emasculate” us, not in a physical sense (a female bodybuilder isn’t going to rip off your penis during foreplay!), but in a psychological sense. She makes us feel inadequate because her strength is superior to ours. As the so-called “weaker sex,” a woman isn’t supposed to be stronger than a man.

Maybe this is why so many male sports fans make fun of female athletes. We tell athletes like Danica Patrick and Venus and Serena Williams to “go back into the kitchen” because we feel emasculated that they’ve achieved something we haven’t. They’ve become good at a professional sport. Most of us aren’t professional athletes who get paid millions to play a game. Most of us pay the bills doing something less glamorous with our lives.

This might also explain why rabid male sports fans will worship somebody like LeBron James or Adrian Peterson while making fun of Abby Wambach for being a lesbian. We admire James and Peterson for being supreme athletes but are secretly jealous of Wambach because she can score more women than most of us guys. And she’s a chick!

Also, we can rationalize that athletes like Kobe Bryant, Justin Verlander and Tom Brady are where they are because they have more natural skill, support systems (professional trainers and coaches) and personal drive than us. So we accept the fact that they’re wildly successful multimillionaires. But how can you explain Kim Clijsters? How can a woman be so rich and famous while I’m not? Preposterous!

Let’s look at this from another angle: the relationship between a female muscle fetish and BDSM culture.

I can only speak for myself on this point. I’m obviously very attracted to muscular women, but I don’t consider myself into BDSM kink culture. I’d love to have sex with a woman like Alina Popa or Amber Deluca, but I have no desire to be tied up, spanked, slapped or wrestled by either of them.

Meet Coco Crush. She could "crush" you if she wanted to, but I don't think she would. — Meet Coco Crush. She could “crush” you if she wanted to, but I don’t think she would.

I should hurry up and say that I’m not against BDSM, nor am I judging anyone who is into that. Not at all! Rather, I’m just saying I’m not personally into that sort of thing. Anything consensual is fair game in my book. What I do want to say is that being attracted to female muscle isn’t the same thing as being into bondage, submission or sadomasochism. Rather, my attraction is purely based on other reasons.

We’ve just explored that the backlash against muscular women by heterosexual men can be based upon a combination of sexism and irrational fears. But it can also be based on prejudice and the mistaken belief that if you can lure a muscular woman into bed, she’ll “take over” and become the “man” in the relationship.

I’ve never had sex with a muscular woman, but I’m willing to bet their bedroom behaviors and preferences are no different than any other woman. She just wants to have a good time like you! I highly doubt she’ll want to grapple you and make you into her “little slave” without your consent. If she’s into that sort of thing and you are too, great. But I’m willing to bet not every FBB shares that kink.

Seriously, who wouldn't want to be Deidre Pagnanelli's little slave? — Seriously, who wouldn’t want to be Deidre Pagnanelli’s little slave?

If only I could ask a hundred or so straight men to anonymously answer me this simple question: Are you attracted to a woman with muscles?

I’d like to think if they could honestly answer without anyone knowing their answer, a good percentage of guys would say “yes.” I can tell you from my personal experience that I’d say yes in private but would be less likely to admit it in public.

Of course, no one has ever directly asked me if I’m into muscular women, so I have no idea how I’d answer. Maybe it all depends on who’s asking and why.

Now…I don’t want to come across as a man-basher. I’m far from it. I’m a man, too! I realize embarrassment, fear, misinformation and sexism aren’t the only reasons why a straight guy wouldn’t be attracted to a lady with bulging biceps. Sexual attraction, ultimately, is a personal thing determined by each individual.

To each his own. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It’s all a matter of opinion. Blah, blah, blah. We’ve all heard this before. Maybe some guys genuinely don’t dig this particular aesthetic. They’d rather go for Kim Kardashian instead of Colette Guimond. There is no right or wrong answer.

If hypermuscularity isn't your thing, check out professional figure competitor and fitness model Erin Stern. Isn't she ridiculously pretty? — If hypermuscularity isn’t your thing, check out professional figure competitor and fitness model Erin Stern. Isn’t she ridiculously pretty?

But my real point is that regardless of what you’re into, can we stop judging each other for it? I’m into muscular women. There you go. Can we move on with our lives? I’m no more freaky than you are. In fact, I might be less freaky because I can actually put into words what my penis tells me is attractive in a woman, while some guys are only attracted to someone because a Photoshopped magazine cover told them to be.

Maybe someday it will be more socially acceptable for a guy to admit he likes muscular women. Maybe someday it will be accepted into the “mainstream.”

Maybe.

So, if that day ever comes, here’s my stereotypical Seattle hipster moment for the day:

I was into beautiful muscular women BEFORE it was mainstream.

Asian Boy and Muscle Girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knows She exists. She has to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dusk.

A secluded beach house on an exotic Caribbean island.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They prefer their secret relationship stay that way.

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

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

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

Most of all, their favorite pastime: making love.

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

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

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

The rest, as they say, is history.

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

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

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

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

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

Muscle Girl: “Thank you, lover.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asian Boy does so without saying a word.

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

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

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

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

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

Muscle Girl: “Enter me, lover.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asian Boy: “Yes, lover.”

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

Asian Boy: “Am I hurting you?”

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

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

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

Muscle Girl: “I love you, Jonathan.”

Asian Boy: “I love you, Michelle.”

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

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

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

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

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

Goodnight, Muscle Girl.

Goodnight, Asian Boy.

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

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

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

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

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

Max couldn’t care less.

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

“I love you,” she says to him.

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

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

“Come to me,” she commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” she answers.

Stillness.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lie down on the bed,” she whispers.

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She knows who has the REAL power in this relationship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eureka!

“Ah!” Max moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was alive.

And he was thankful for it.