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.

Oh boy. Tatianna Butler.
Oh boy. Tatianna Butler.

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.
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.

Queen Hippolyta – Unexpected Vulnerability (part two)

A statuesque Kristy Hawkins.
A statuesque Kristy Hawkins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, my Queen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s see what you got, my Queen.”

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

“I shall, young prisoner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not fear you, my Queen.”

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

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

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

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

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

A warm fireplace.
A warm fireplace.

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

“That would be a waste of your time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me, my Queen. I am all man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, my Queen?”

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

To be continued.

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

Please note: None of the FBBs featured in this blog post is the one I set up the session with. It just never hurts to post photos of strong, gorgeous women.
Please note: None of the FBBs featured in this blog post is the one I set up the session with. It just never hurts to post photos of strong, gorgeous women.

Anyone who has a female muscle fetish can understand how frustrating it can be.

We love women with muscles, but women with a lot of muscles aren’t exactly common.

Yes. This is very true. How often do you see a lady with the muscular frame of Sheila Bleck walk down the street, shop at your grocery store, patronize your favorite coffee joint or stroll through your local park? Unless you work with professional bodybuilders and athletes for a living, the answer is probably not (and if you do happen to associate with female bodybuilders on a daily basis, we really need to exchange jobs!).

So guys (and gals) who love female muscle are more often than not stuck in the aggravating situation of being in love with a body type that’s more accessible through a Google search than hitting the bars at happy hour. Imagine being into blondes in a world where all you see are brunettes. Talk about agonizing!

But…for those of us who like muscular women and would love nothing more than to meet one, there’s a way to do it. It can be pricy, but if you do your homework it can be a worthwhile experience.

As you can probably imagine, being a professional bodybuilder isn’t exactly a very lucrative profession. It’s an expensive lifestyle (food, supplements, personal trainers, gym memberships, equipment, etc.) and doesn’t bring in much money. Only the top competitors win enough money to call it a career and endorsing commercial products isn’t always an viable option.

If you could get paid to be beautiful, Kristy Hawkins would be a billionaire by now.
If you could get paid to be beautiful, Kristy Hawkins would be a billionaire by now.

So, many bodybuilders (I would guess mostly female) offer “sessions” to bodybuilding fans across the world. These “sessions” often involve “muscle worship,” an activity where clients feel, caress and touch the muscles of a bodybuilder for a fee. You don’t literally worship this person, but it comes awfully close.

Some FBBs offer wrestling (competitive and semi-competitive), sensual massages, grappling, scissor squeezing, posing, lifting, role playing and BDSM services in addition to muscle worship. They often travel around the country (and world) and visit major cities where enough fans are interested in paying for their services. Muscle worship sessions mostly take place in hotel rooms, but sometimes they can occur in private homes or studios if the FBB feels comfortable doing that.

I’ve known about this sort of thing for years but never thought about doing it until recently. Firstly, it’s pricy. Some sessions can cost up to $800 or as low as $400 for an hour. That’s quite a bit of money for someone who’s not exactly rolling in the dough. Secondly, muscle worship sessions (especially the sensual kinds) come dangerously close to prostitution, which I’m not inherently against, but it does come with its own social stigma.

I have nothing against prostitution per se, and I’ll admit my perspective on this matter has changed over the years, but I’ve always felt like I’m better than that. Pay someone for sex? Even if actual sex isn’t involved (and in most cases of muscle worship, full-service sex isn’t involved), this still sounds like something a desperate loser would resort to because they can’t get this anywhere else.

But on the other hand, this is different. Female bodybuilders aren’t exactly common. If feeling the body of a muscular woman is a kink of mine, and this kink isn’t easy to fulfill, what’s the harm of paying money for it? It’s not every day when an opportunity like this comes around.

Also, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not being judgmental toward FBBs or male bodybuilders who offer sessions. I’m not equating what they do to prostitution, nor should we stigmatize those who do work in the sex industry. My hesitancy toward paying for a muscle worship session has more to do with my personal biases than my opinion about the concept of sex work. I’ve come to realize that everyone has the right to make a living by whatever means they see necessary as long as they don’t harm anyone else or themselves. This includes female bodybuilders.

So, I decided to pursue setting up a muscle worship session after careful deliberation. I decided first to do some casual online research to see what’s out there. After a lengthy Google search, I discovered the website wb270, which is essentially the Craigslist of those seeking female muscle worship sessions. I looked at the state of Washington to find out who is either local or traveling to my region.

An absolutely stunning photo of Kris Murrell.
An absolutely stunning photo of Kris Murrell.

At first, I e-mailed a local FBB, but heard no response from her. I figured maybe she wasn’t doing that sort of thing anymore and that her contact information was left erroneously on wb270’s website. I checked back a few weeks later and discovered a particular FBB would be travelling to Seattle at the end of May.

Before I continue, I’ve decided to leave the identity of this FBB a secret because of a few reasons. I’ll explain later. For now, let’s call her GFBB (Gorgeous Female Bodybuilder).

I e-mailed GFBB and asked her how much she charges for an hour long session and if indeed she’s travelling to Seattle. She didn’t respond for the longest time, which made me assume she too wasn’t interested in my inquiry. I then began to think if somehow I came across as either too creepy, or passive, or inexperienced, or something else that’s making me appear less than trustworthy. Those thoughts crept into my mind until about a week later…

She responded!

I was so excited I felt jittery all over. GFBB isn’t just beautiful and strong, but she’s a celebrity as well. Anyone who follows the world of female bodybuilding has no doubt heard of this woman. She’s a superstar of the sport and very well known to fans all over the world. When she finally responded to my e-mail, I felt star-struck and in awe that she would actually communicate with me!

We exchanged a few e-mails back and forth, discussing her travelling schedule and such. She tells me that she’s tentatively confirmed to be in Seattle on May 23, but that she needs at least three confirmed appointments before making concrete plans. This makes sense. Why book a flight to Seattle when you have no assurance you’ll land any clients?

Feast your eyes on Jana Linke-Sippl, a woman with thighs of steel (which is putting it mildly).
Feast your eyes on Jana Linke-Sippl, a woman with thighs of steel (which is putting it mildly).

After learning about this, I asked GFBB what services she offers. She says she’s pretty open from anything ranging from semi-competitive wrestling, to grappling, to sensual muscle worship and other stuff in between. I told her muscle worship was my thing and that I wasn’t too keen about wrestling. I’m not really into that, to be honest. But touching this woman’s muscles? Yes, please!

She told me about her prices and says she offers two kinds of sessions: bikini and nude. Well, shucks! I can see her completely naked? Hell yes!

Naturally, a nude session costs more, but it was a price I was willing to pay. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me all the time, so I better take advantage of it while I can.

We settled on this arrangement: One hour of nude muscle worship. She even says she’s willing to give a hand job at the end. Eureka!

This is why I’m choosing to keep the identity of GFBB a secret. Because this comes very close to prostitution, and there’s the possibility she could get into legal trouble if word leaks out, I’ve decided not to reveal who she is. Odds are I could mention her identity and no harm will come her way, but I don’t want to risk that. Also, she has family and friends who might not want to hear that she offers hand jobs to random guys who pay her. I mean, talk about embarrassing! In this age of the Internet, information can spread quicker than an STD at a college dormitory, so I’d sleep better at night knowing her willingness to give her customers a “happy ending” is kept off the Web. I try to be respectful to everyone’s reputation and personal comfort.

If more women around me looked like Emery Miller, I'd be a happy man.
If more women around me looked like Emery Miller, I’d be a happy man.

So…we made our deal and I wired her some money as a deposit. After asking for some cash up front, at first I was afraid she might be scamming me, but I took a risk and trusted that she truly was who she says she is and not some flimflam man trying to con my libido-fueled idiotic ass out of easy cash.

After paying her the deposit, I played the waiting game and crossed my fingers that at least two more chaps around the Seattle area would contact her and set up appointments. She says she’ll return the deposit if she can’t make the trip. While I appreciate this, I hoped like hell it wouldn’t have to come to that.

A few weeks passed and I finally heard the good news: She has three confirmed appointments, meaning we’re on for May 23. Oh happy day! Yahoo!!!

Indeed, I felt like dancing in the streets after hearing GFBB was definitely coming to my area. My heart pounded as I proceeded to think about what sort of things I’d like to do with her. Muscle worship? Caressing her body? Touching her hardened biceps? Leaving a trail of kisses down her taut back? Rubbing her powerful thighs? Receiving a hand job from her? Holy cow! All of this would be possible now.

Anyone who isn't into female muscle should take a look at Ocean Bloom and prepare to have their perspective changed permanently.
Anyone who isn’t into female muscle should take a look at Ocean Bloom and prepare to have their perspective changed permanently.

Whew. I’ve just booked my first muscle worship session ever. Wow. Is this really happening? Am I actually going to go through with this? Am I dreaming?

I sure hope I’m not dreaming. I pray that this is real.

Well, whether I like it or not, this is real. Shit is getting real. Very real. I’m a few weeks away from meeting a famous, gorgeous female bodybuilder in the flesh. I’m going to worship her flesh and touch her body. And she’s going to touch my body. And give me pleasure in ways I’ve never experienced before with a woman (see a previous blog post for further context). Hot damn.

I’ve just crossed a threshold. For the past several years, I’ve just been a female bodybuilding fan who’s admired strong women from a distance. I’ve had very limited up close and personal experiences with a muscular woman, so this will be unprecedented. Never in my life have I ever done something like this before. Who knows, I might never do something like this again.

But all I could do was wait. She said she’ll give me further information about which hotel she’ll be staying at a few days before our session. So all I can do is wait.

Waiting. Damn. I might not like having to count down the days on my calendar like a kid anticipating Christmas morning, but what else can I do? This is just like Christmas to me, except a lot more erotic.

So every day I looked at my calendar. Twenty days and counting. Nineteen days and counting. Eighteen days and counting. Seventeen days and counting…

Let the countdown begin.

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