Bridgette – Midnight Rendezvous (part five)

A hot latte for a cold autumn season.
A hot latte for a cold autumn season.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A luxury hotel lobby.
A luxury hotel lobby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet as honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jill Rudison is ready for anything.
Jill Rudison is ready for anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed!”

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

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

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

“What else do you have in mind?”

She turns around to face him.

“Let me show you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Bridgette.”

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

The lovers fall asleep together again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angela Salvagno being her usual sexy self.
Angela Salvagno being her usual sexy self.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you lover.”

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

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

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

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

The Wow Factor

Before Lindsay Mulinazzi, there was nothing.
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?
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.

A rising star, Jill Rudison.
A rising star, Jill Rudison.

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.
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.
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.

Gracyanne Barbosa. Baby got back.
Gracyanne Barbosa. Baby got back.

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.”