love – Page 2 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode Three – Deidre (part one of two)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that the woman featured in this story isn’t Deidre Pagnanelli. While she may resemble Ms. Pagnanelli and there are photos of her prominently displayed throughout this post, “Deidre” is NOT Deidre Pagnanelli. Personally, I think it’s a little creepy to write an erotic story about a real person whom I’ve never met without their consent. I’d rather create my own character who isn’t real instead of using an actual person whose friends and family may accidentally stumble upon this post. But for the sake of your imagination, the character of “Deidre” does indeed look exactly like the gorgeous Ms. Pagnanelli. Is she actually Ms. Pagnanelli? No, she is not. She’s a fictional character borne from my imagination.

On a freezing cold winter afternoon, an oppressive snowstorm attacks a quaint small town in the middle of nowhere.

It’s 4 p.m. in the middle of December. Ominous dark clouds, strong gusts of wind and massive piles of snow create a glum atmosphere Max has never experienced before. He doesn’t mind snow, but this is something else entirely.

Max could not remember the name of this town. He also couldn’t recall why he was here or what business he had to stay here any longer than he absolutely had to. All he knows is that he’s stuck until this terrible blizzard comes to an end.

This could take forever…

Max is staying at an old-fashioned bed and breakfast establishment in the heart of town. Cuddling up close to the fireplace with a warm wool blanket and a mystery novel, Max is surprised at how calm and peaceful he is at the moment. A city slicker at heart, these small towns in the middle of the wilderness (at least, it seems like the wilderness to him) bore him to death. There’s absolutely nothing to do.

No movie theatre. No good restaurants. No decent bars. No friends to hang out with and do stuff. Nothing of the sort.

Well, this stinks. There’s got to be something to do to pass the time! According to the local weather reports, the snowstorm could last two to three days. Does this mean Max has to be exiled here for the entire weekend? You got to be kidding!

Unfortunately, no. This is no joke. Max decides he needs to get something decent to eat. The food at the bed and breakfast is alright, but after a few meals it gets old really fast. Max heard a rumor there’s a quality grocery store at the southern end of town. Maybe that’ll be worth checking out.

Max puts on a heavy coat, boots, gloves and beanie and courageously heads outside. The snow continues to fall, but at a much lighter pace than earlier before. Max thinks he can handle this. It’s only a short walk down the street. What could possibly go wrong?

Fifteen minutes later, Max is stumbling down Main Street in the dark. Gee, how did it get so black all of a sudden?

Unsure if he’s going in the right direction, Max sees a sign posted on a street lamp saying:

Road closed ahead. Try alternate route.

Great! An alternate route; in the dark, in an unfamiliar town, during a snowstorm – just to get to a stupid grocery store? Max considers turning around, but his stomach tells him otherwise. Max reluctantly follows the arrow pointing to the “alternate route” and says a short prayer to himself before proceeding.

Five minutes goes by and Max is thoroughly convinced he made a mistake taking this so-called “alternative route.” Unable to see anything, faltering around the slick pavement like a drunkard and freezing so badly his knees are shaking; Max realizes he needs to turn around before it’s too late.

Beautiful wallpaper image of snowfall at night.

“Lord have mercy,” Max mutters under his breath. Max can see his breath clearly but cannot concentrate on that because his face hurts from the blistering cold. If he doesn’t get inside soon, guaranteed he’s going to get a bad case of frostbite.

Looking down at the ground, Max isn’t sure if he’s still on the pavement or if he’s drifted off onto the grass. The thick sheets of snow make it impossible to tell for sure. The streetlights have disappeared. There isn’t a house or building anywhere in sight. Where the hell is he?

“I need to turn around. Now. While I still have the chance,” Max tells himself.

Max does turn around but sees nothing but darkness. He keeps trudging through the snow and suddenly gets the idea of taking out his cell phone to use as a flashlight. As he reaches for his pocket, a tree branch hits him in the forehead.

“Ow!” A sharp pain shoots through his entire head. Where the hell did that tree come from?

Then, a second low hanging tree branch strikes him, this time directly in the face. Max stops and holds his nose. He feels warm blood trickling down his chin. Max swears to himself and proceeds to continue walking. He should have stayed indoors! How stupid could he possibly be–

As if the rug had been pulled out from under him, Max starts to fall down a steep hill. Tumbling, tumbling and tumbling to the ground. Nonstop. Rocks knock into him on his way down. A small bush scrapes against his thigh, cutting him open. He wants to scream, but the intense pain and his uncontrollable anger prevent any sound from coming out. He’s out of breath. His entire body aches. And he is powerless to stop this freefall.

Finally, he stops rolling. Max reaches the foot of the hill and collapses. Defeated, Max struggles to look around to see where he is. His vision is blurred. It hurts everywhere. Where did this bad luck come from? What did he do to deserve this?

Deidre Pagnanelli lying down in a bikini.

In the distance – or maybe it was closer than he thought – Max sees a dim light. Was it a house? Was someone inside? Where is he? Is he still in the same town or did he stumble onto the neighboring county?

As Max ponders these questions, he blacks out. Silence. Nothingness. Sleep.

Blissful sleep.

An hour later, Max wakes up in a bed. He feels groggy. His head hurts. Max reaches up to touch his forehead and feels a bandage attached to his skin. What happened? Is he dead? Is this Heaven?

Then he looks up. And sees her.

Wow. Maybe he is in Heaven.

Standing before him is the most gorgeous woman Max has ever laid eyes on. Tall, toned, shapely and as gorgeous as a supermodel, Max is sure he’s never seen a woman quite like her. If this is what the afterlife is like, then perhaps death isn’t so bad after all!

“How are you feeling?” this beautiful angel asks him.

“Oh. I’m okay. Still sore. Did you rescue me?”

“Yes, I did. I heard screaming outside and immediately checked it out. When I saw you lying there in the snow, I thought you were dead. It didn’t seem like you were breathing.” Miraculously, Max’s throbbing headache goes away. He studies her carefully. She is wearing grey sweatpants, white athletic socks and a beet red tank top that generously shows off her large, muscular arms. Max definitely has never encountered a woman with muscles that big before. He always thought bodybuilding women were gross and ugly looking. This perfect angel shatters all those perceptions to a million pieces.

Her hair is long, dark brown and carelessly flows across her back. Her dark eyes could pierce your soul. Max couldn’t quite figure out how old she is, but early 40s seems like a prudent estimate. Maybe she’s younger. Or older. Either way, she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in person.

“Thanks for rescuing me. I passed out after I stopped rolling. I’d probably still be out there if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re welcome. Come to think of it, if you were still out there you’d probably freeze to death. I’m glad I came when I did.” She walks over to the kitchen and takes a kettle of boiling water off the stove. Max is so enamored by her beauty that he failed to hear the kettle whistling. She pours some of the hot water into a mug and places a bag of Earl Gray inside it. The woman returns and hands the mug to Max. He graciously accepts her offering.

“Thank you for this. I owe you everything.” He takes a sip. The sensation of the hot liquid entering his body warms his soul.

“What’s your name?” She sits down on a chair next to the bed.

“My name is Max. What’s yours?”

“Deidre.” Deidre? What a pretty name.

“Deidre? What a pretty name.”

Whoa. Did he just say that out loud? Oh my God…

“Thank you. It is a pretty name.” She giggles and smiles at him, acknowledging his awkwardness. Max and Deidre proceed to have a lengthy discussion about why they are both in this God-forsaken snow-covered town. As it turns out, Deidre is a professional fitness model and dietary coach who was supposed to be in this town for a photoshoot. Unfortunately for her, Deidre’s photographer had to cancel at the last moment because he found an alternate gig in the Bahamas.

A shot of Deidre Pagnanelli's gorgeous face. — A shot of Deidre Pagnanelli’s gorgeous face.

“The Bahamas! Can you believe it? I’d much rather be there than here!” Deidre says, laughing smugly. Max laughs too, trying hard to picture her in a bikini. She probably looks amazing wearing one!

Max now remembers why he’s here. He’s a freelance writer on assignment from a small travel magazine to write about the ski slopes. Since Max doesn’t ski and couldn’t care less about winter sports, he didn’t feel too enthusiastic about the project. This probably explains why he also couldn’t remember why he was in this town in the first place.

“You’re a writer? You should write a story about me for your magazine instead!” Deidre jokes.

“I could. Although, they probably want to hear more about skiing instead of your personal life. Unless you have a really interesting personal life…” Max is impressed at how well he incorporated that into the conversation. Now he has an excuse to learn more about her!

Deidre, as sweet as can be, gladly explains to Max who she is.

In addition to being a fitness model and dietary coach, Deidre Veneziano is a prominent columnist for several health and wellness publications. She travels across the world giving pep talks, plugging her products and offering her nutritional expertise at college campuses, business seminars and industry conventions. Years ago, before she became a wildly successful entrepreneur, she was an amateur bodybuilder.

Ms. Veneziano pulls up a few photos on her phone from her competitive days and shows them to Max.

Holy mackerel! She looks even more stunning! At the tender age of 19 she’d already won several lower level figure and bodybuilding competitions and won a few more prestigious ones in her 20s and 30s. She’s recently divorced (who’s the idiot who willingly left her?) and is the mother of four children.

Wait. WHAT????????? She’s the mother of FOUR kids? You have got to be kidding!

Whoa. Hot damn. With a body like hers, Max never would’ve guessed!

Then it was his turn to share his life story. Max grew up in a stuffy upper middle class Asian American family. He was expected from birth to be a doctor, a musician or a scientist. When he decided on becoming a writer instead, his parents unenthusiastically went along with it. He went to a prominent university, had his heart broken toward the end of his senior year (his fiancée cheated on him with his roommate. They’re now married and have two kids) and graduated near the top of his class. Unfortunately, a bad economy made journalism jobs impossible to find. So freelance work (or, as he refers to it, “whoring yourself out for a letter of recommendation”) was his only reliable source of income. That and working the graveyard shift at a storage lot. Max isn’t too thrilled with that job and dreams of the day that he can quit.

Deidre Pagnanelli in a colorful swimsuit.

During his speech Deidre frequently nods her head and interjects to point out where he and she are similar. Both are victims of cheating lovers. Both are stuck in this God-forsaken town. Neither of them wants to be here…but they both love getting to know each other!

Every moment he spends with her, Max feels more secure. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, not hours. He highly doubts the positive feelings are mutual, but it’s always nice to dream. The pain has finally gone away. He still has a nasty cut on his leg, but Deidre did a fantastic job of bandaging it up. After talking for hours (but what seemed like mere minutes to him), Deidre decides it’s time to get ready for bed. She offers Max a place to sleep for the night. Max graciously accepts her cordial invitation.

It’s nearing 10:30 p.m. Deidre says she has a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, weather permitting. The cabin belongs to a friend of her photographer who’s on vacation in Europe. Deidre takes a shower in the upstairs master bedroom. Max, despite his injuries and bandages, takes an awkward bath in the main level washroom. The warm water cascading against his skin feels so good!

11 p.m. The wind stops howling. The snow dies down. A full moon lights up the night sky. The mood is romantic in a surreal way.

Max puts on a comfortable pair of fleece pajamas that belong to the owner of the cabin. As he prepares to hop into bed, he hears someone crying from upstairs.

Sobs. Not loud sobs, but sounds of sadness and heartbreak nevertheless. Concerned, Max walks up the stairs to inspect what’s happening. Why would Deidre be crying? Is she watching a movie or something?

Politely, Max knocks on her door.

“Come in,” Deidre struggles to answer.

Quietly as a church mouse, he opens the door and peers inside. As expected, Deidre is curled up on her bed with tears streaming down her beautiful face. Max immediately comes in to comfort her. He hugs her. Her warm body stirs a tingling sensation through his soul. After a few moments, her sobbing subsides and she sits up.

“Thank you. I don’t know what came over me, but…having you here made me think.”

“Think about what?”

“I was thinking about my life. Thinking about my ex-husband. Thinking about why he would do that to me. Why he would tear apart our family. Our beautiful family. My kids are with him now. Because I’m always traveling, the judge said he would have custody over the kids even though he was the one who ended the marriage. I fought and fought, but I couldn’t win.”

This is serious stuff. Max tries to process it all. He cannot.

“I can’t imagine what your children must be going through, Deidre. That sounds awful.” Max finds a box of tissues on the nightstand and hands one to Deidre. She blows her nose and tosses the tissue into a nearby waste basket.

“I started to hate men after that. Actually, I started to hate people after that. When my photographer ditched me in the middle of nowhere…that was the final straw. I was ready to have a nervous breakdown. Then…then…”

“Then what?”

“Then you came along. You’re different. You’re kind. You listen. You have a compassionate heart. You know what it’s like to have your heart savagely broken. You can identify with my suffering.” Max finally notices Deidre isn’t wearing makeup. He can clearly see the crow’s feet around her eyes and age lines streaking across her face. But she’s still the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. Age has done nothing to fade her beauty.

Age has done absolutely nothing to fade Deidre Pagnanelli's beauty. — Age has done absolutely nothing to fade Deidre Pagnanelli’s beauty.

A long silence. Max and Deidre can hear the snow start to fall again outside the window. Its melodic resonance nearly hypnotizes them.

Finally, she breaks the quietness.

“Max, I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead. Ask me anything, Deidre.”

She turns to face him. She stares intently into his eyes. Then, she leans over and kisses him. She doesn’t hold back. Max is surprised at first, but goes along with it. He kisses her back. They embrace. They remain in each other’s arms for what seems like an eternity. They both want it to last an eternity.

Eventually, she breaks off their embrace. She looks at him once again, but this time her eyes communicate warmness and tenderness instead of seriousness.

“I want to make love to you,” she whispers into his ear.

Time stops. But Max doesn’t shy away from the moment. Instead, he chooses to stab the moment in the heart.

“No, Deidre,” he starts, fiercely pushing her onto her back. She gasps out of pleasant surprise. Max playfully wrestles with her and kisses her again. This time, on top and in a clear position of dominance, he’s the one who stares through her eyes and into her soul.

“I’m going to make love to you.”

Continued in part two…

A Word of Caution: The Dangers of Crossing the Line in Your Female Muscle Fandom

Usually I try to keep the tone of my essays light, informative and humorous.

The purpose of writing articles like Top 10 Misconceptions About Having a Female Muscle Fetish, The Strangeness of Having a Female Muscle Fetish and Female Muscle and Masculine Insecurity was to articulate the inner feelings of many men (and women) out there who adore strong women. I want to inform, provoke thought and inspire discussions among people from all backgrounds who are curious about this topic.

However, I feel obligated to discuss something else that needs to be said. There are, unfortunately, some dangers attached to this special sexual attraction that I’ve come to embrace. So I’ve decided to provide a word of caution to all you female muscle fans out there.

But before I do this, I need to preface this discussion with these thoughts:

Anything in life, when taken to extremes, can be dangerous. Any interest, hobby or activity has the potential to become harmful when taken too far. A prime example is drinking alcohol. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a glass of red wine or a beer every once in a while. But if you drink too much and too often, you set yourself up for health issues that we should all be familiar with by now.

Alcoholism. Liver damage. Automobile accidents caused by drunk driving. Strained relationships. Personal injury. Vomiting and other kinds of sicknesses.

You understand. I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. And this list is by no means exhaustive.

Drinking is one example of a fairly harmless activity that – when taken too far – can have very negative repercussions that can hurt both you and the people around you (including those you love and hold dear). Nobody wants this to happen. But unfortunately it does all too often.

Believe it or not, a healthy activity like exercise can also be dangerous when taken to extremes. Excessive exercise can actually damage your muscles and joints instead of strengthening them. Exhaustion could cause kidney and heart problems. Injury, soreness, dehydration and increased chances of accidents can all result from excessive exercise. So, even a supposedly healthy activity like working out can be detrimental to your health if you’re not careful.

The same goes for being a fan of female muscle. I’ve written extensively about why I believe it’s healthy, wonderful and socially beneficial to love and support strong women. Female bodybuilders, athletes, competitors and everyday women looking to improve themselves through weight training should be encouraged for their willingness to advance themselves personally, not discouraged and ridiculed.

That being said, there are some dangers inherent in taking this fandom too far.

Like any hidden obsession, excess can be financially draining. Spending too much money on female muscle-related porn, sessions (wrestling, fantasy, muscle worship, BDSM, role playing, etc.) and entertainment media can cost you a lot of money if you’re not prudent in how you spend. We know all about so-called “shopaholics” who can’t stop using their credit card. They end up buying tons of worthless junk while draining their bank account at the same time. The Internet makes all this unnecessary spending way easier.

You can also violate the trust of a loved one. A man who secretly spends his money on sessions with female bodybuilders might be doing this without his wife or girlfriend’s approval. What happens if she ever finds out? Will she feel like he “cheated” on her? Will she ever look at him the same way? Will she ever be able to trust him with anything again (including raising children, paying the bills on time and/or providing for the family)?

Understandably, these things will come into question if one is not open about their fascination with female muscle and how it affects others. It should also be said that there is a fine line between “fascination” and “obsession.” An obsession is an uncontrollable urge to consume or engage in an activity in a manner that possesses you. It consumes your time, energy and thoughts. An obsession (combined with other psychological problems) leads people like John Hinckley to attempt to assassinate the President of the United States of America for mindboggling reasons.

Of course, this is an extreme example. Most unhealthy obsessions with female muscle won’t direct you to attempt to murder a sitting head of state. Most of the damage, if any, will be done relationally, financially and socially.

A fascination, on the other hand, is when one appreciates something from a safe distance and knows when to back off when a particular line is crossed. You keep your wits about you at all times.

Tanji Johnson, a local gal from Renton, WA and the winner of the Fitness International title at the Arnold Sports Festival in 2013.

I do not believe it is unhealthy to be attracted to muscular women. Not at all. I think it’s a perfectly healthy aspect to one’s sexuality that should be expressed, not suppressed. But it can become unhealthy in a heartbeat if certain urges aren’t placed within reasonable parameters.

I’ll use me as an example. I once got very close to having this attraction negatively affect me. Let me explain:

Last year I engaged in three separate muscle worship sessions. Toward the end of October I had an opportunity to engage in a fourth. I exchanged a few e-mails and text messages with this particular female bodybuilder who was planning to travel to Seattle. She told me her rates – which I felt were a little higher than I was able to pay.

I’m not a very rich person, so paying for sessions is a very big deal to me. I don’t have $350-$400 at my disposal for one hour’s worth of entertainment. I’m not a multi-millionaire. So I made a wise decision and decided not to go ahead and schedule anything with her. She understood my position. I knew I didn’t have the financial resources to go through this. So I let my better judgment win out at the end. I felt proud of myself for demonstrating such fiscal discipline.

But don’t misunderstand me. I was very close to going through with it. I seriously contemplated emptying money from my savings account to pay for it. But I knew this would hurt me in the long term. I saw myself nearly go down a path I told myself I would try to avoid at all costs.

I say this not because I want to shame anyone who gives in to their temptations and ends up making foolish decisions in the process. No, rather I want to show you that I once went dangerously close to the “dark side” and spent money I couldn’t afford to spend. But I resisted and learned a valuable lesson from it. I’m not preaching some holier-than-thou message to condemn anyone who doesn’t let rationality win out. I want to let you know that I’m not a perfect person. I’m not infallible. I make mistakes.

I was just fortunate to not make a mistake in that specific instance. But unfortunately, not everyone is that lucky.

So whether your obsession hurts you financially, relationally or socially, always keep in mind the important things in life: Friends, family, your health, spirituality (if you’re into that sort of thing) and being a good person. Never let your desires control you. Think before you act. Love other people; don’t lust after them as if they were merely sex objects. Never objectify people. Treat them as that: people.

Female bodybuilders aren’t toys. They’re not sex objects you can treat like dirt just because you pay them money to deliver services for you. Remember the Golden Rule. We all learned that at some point in our childhood, right?

We’re all people trying to make our way through this crazy and confusing universe. No one will ever get it right 100% of the time. We all make mistakes. We all let our worst judgment get the better of us. We all act irrationally at times. This is part of being human.

If you think you need help, seek help. Talk to a professional counselor or someone who’s willing to listen, empathize and support you. Don’t bottle up your anger. Don’t take your insecurities out on other people. When in doubt, at the very least talk to someone. If they love you, they’ll understand and won’t judge you for it. And if they do judge you, are they really someone you want to be close with in the first place?

Love is about trust. When people violate that trust, we get hurt. When we violate that trust in others, they get hurt. It’s a vicious cycle. It tears apart families. It creates holes in people’s lives. This is true of everything, female muscle fandom notwithstanding. Please, communicate with your loved ones if you sense you’re going down a dark path. There is a point of return – just make sure you can identify the problem early and take a proactive approach to stopping it dead in its tracks.

I will say this once again, a million times if I have to. There’s nothing wrong with being physically attracted to muscular ladies. There’s nothing wrong with admiring strong women. There’s nothing wrong with expressing your desires and living out your fantasies if all parties are consenting. Consent and transparency are virtues.

What are your thoughts on this matter? Feel free to e-mail me at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com or write your comments below for everyone to see. I’ll share some of your feedback if I feel it is valuable to our discussion and you want a wider audience to read it.

Thank you!

The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode Two – Black Beauty

When you think of Black Beauty, think about Desiree Ellis.

Max’s next dream took him to a familiar place: his own life.

Rainfall. Dusk. The time is 5:37 p.m. It is Friday, a day Max always cherishes.

After a rough week at work, Max knew he had to blow off some steam at the gym. TGIF, right? Max frequently worked out at the gym 3 to 4 days per week, doing a variety of exercises ranging from weight lifting to yoga to Pilates to swimming. Today he just needed to lift till his muscles gave out. It was one of those days.

6:40 p.m.

Max just completes nearly an hour and a half of blasting his chest and back muscles. Drenched in sweat, breathing hard as if he’d just run a marathon; he decides it’s time to stretch and end his workout with light cardio. As he was heading to the treadmill area, a heart-stopping sight caught him dead in his tracks.

Walking out of a now completed Zumba class was a striking black woman. Tall (perhaps 6’1”, maybe taller), muscular, athletic and as gorgeous as a supermodel, this woman exudes sexual power out of every pore of her impeccable body. Max is certain he’d never seen her here before, but at this moment, encountering this Beautiful Goddess destroyed any certainty he had of anything.

Imagine seeing a lady like Tatianna Butler in your gym. Talk about distracting.

Wearing tight pink workout shorts and a revealing pink sports bra to match, this fetching woman is a perfect specimen of female beauty. She is the quintessential Black Beauty, the Immortal African Queen. Her dark black skin looks silky smooth and as soft as a blanket. Her hard muscles are sharp and well-defined. She is as strong as an ox. Every inch of her is perfect.

And Max was determined to find out more about her.

Black Beauty proceeds to walk toward the weight room. Wait, really? She’s not going back to the locker room? She actually plans to lift with the rest of the guys?

Hell yes, she is!

Black Beauty demonstrates that she isn’t just strong “for a woman;” she shows everyone she’s STRONG, plain and simple. Deadlifts. Squats. Lunges. Leg presses. Massive weight. Heavy reps. Sweat dripping off her delectable body. Today is definitely her leg day.

All the guys stop and stare at her. But does she get offended with this new-found attention? Nope. She loves the attention. She adores being looked at. She treasures every guy who can’t help but stare at her glorious figure. She wants this. She desires this.

She deserves this.

Every guy wants her. But Max knows he would be the one who would end up with her before the night is out. He doesn’t know how. He just knows this is how things will happen.

So…time to make a move!

It started with casual flirting. Max passes by Black Beauty and lets out a hushed wolf whistle. Black Beauty smiles back and returns the whistle as Max pumps out ten reps of heavy military shoulder press. Today isn’t a shoulders day, but any excuse to get close to her makes that fact irrelevant.

Then he strikes up a casual conversation with her. He asks her why he’s never seen her here before. She answers that she just moved into town. Their conversation goes deeper. They learn things about each other; where they grew up, what schools they attended, where they live, what they do for a living (as it turns out, she’s an amateur bodybuilder and a professional erotic model) and what hobbies they share. They learn a lot in a brief amount of time.

Her name is Afrika. See her power. See her strength. Admire her.

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Then an hour and a half. Forget working out. Max and Black Beauty aren’t just flirting – they’re connecting at a deep level. All the men in the weight room are jealous of Max. Many leave after conceding that Black Beauty is Max’s for the taking. They know what will happen between these two. So why bother sticking around and hoping they’ll get their shot?

For Max and Black Beauty, this is no longer casual flirting. This is foreplay. This is a mating dance; albeit one that involves dumbbells, barbells and lots of 45-pound plates of weight. Consummating this dance isn’t a possibility; it’s a guarantee.

Eventually Max and Black Beauty ease off their conversation and resume their workouts. Having already completed his initial workout, Max is now doing overtime. His muscles may collapse on him. But he doesn’t care one bit. This opportunity to get to know Black Beauty is one that he cannot pass up.

Max says he’s leaving and is heading home. Black Beauty, clearly enamored by him, offers to exchange phone numbers. They do. Max texts to Black Beauty his name and phone number. She smiles and resumes her grueling workout. Max leaves the weight room as if he’d just conquered the world.

After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Max buys a protein shake at the juice bar. He looks around for Black Beauty. She’s still at the weight room, squatting what looks to be 315 pounds. Holy smokes. Look at that power. Look at her impeccable form. Look at her massive thighs, growing stronger and stronger with every punishing repetition. The way she strenuously pushes her leg muscles beyond what they can handle turns Max on in ways he’s never been turned on before.

Max senses his manhood waking up. Who cares if anyone notices?

An hour later, Max is at home watching a rerun of some football game he couldn’t care less about. Out of the blue, his phone buzzes. He checks it out and sees this simple message:

I wanna fuck you. So fucking bad. My place or yours?

Do you really have to guess who this is? Didn’t think so.

Ultimately, Max decides to come over to her house. Black Beauty texts him her address and fifteen minutes later he’s pulling up his car onto her driveway. He kills the engine. She lives in a quaint stone house in a quiet residential neighborhood a few miles away from his apartment. Though he wouldn’t consider her a next-door-neighbor, he’d drive any distance to be with this Black Muscle Goddess.

Zoe Saldana's beauty is enough to make my heart stop. — Zoe Saldana’s beauty is enough to make my heart stop.

He rings her doorbell. He waits. Seconds pass which seem like days. Eventually, the door opens. Black Beauty is standing before him.

Holy shit.

Dressed in nothing but a lily white negligee, silky purple lingerie and bright red stiletto heels, Black Beauty was a divine object of flawless beauty. Her revealing outfit shows off every bulging muscle on her unbelievable body. Her pumped legs, which Max was surprised was still able to stand considering the intensity of her earlier workout, nearly gave him a heart attack. Her wide, massive thighs squeeze together, unable to separate apart on their own. This thickness sends a chill down Max’s spine.

She invites him in. He enters her home. It is artistically decorated – littered with Greek nude statues, post-modern erotic paintings, photographs of muscular men and women in a variety of sensual poses and bookshelves full of academic textbooks.

She explains that she’s a student of art history, erotic art and human sexuality. Max isn’t surprised one bit. Their conversation at the gym was much deeper than any normal weight room banter. Black Beauty isn’t just a strong, beautiful woman. She’s also deeply passionate, intelligent and artistically-minded.

Not a bad combination.

Black Beauty offers him something to drink. Max takes the offer. They enter her dining room and sip fine wine by romantic candlelight for the next two hours. Their topics of conversation run the gamut; politics, art, sex, race, society, bodybuilding, culture, sports, history, family and culinary experiences. Their mutual fondness grows exponentially with each passing moment. Both Max and Black Beauty sense this isn’t going to be just a quick affair. Both know this has potential to be something more…profound.

It is nearing midnight. One empty bottle of wine later, Max and Black Beauty are both fairly loosened up. Not drunk. No, both are very clear-minded. Probably because they only have one thing on their mind:

Making love.

Yes, not fucking. Not screwing. Not banging one another. No…making love. Max and Black Beauty are about to make love as if they’d known each other for decades. This isn’t purely physical. This is something else entirely. This is real. Very real. Very tangible.

All hail Iris Kyle, a legend in her own right.

Finally, after hours of keeping a respectable physical distance, Black Beauty leans in and kisses Max passionately. She tastes him, possessing him with her mouth. Her tongue explores him, marking its territory. Max couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t mind. He’s been waiting for this moment a long time.

Max and Black Beauty finish their kiss and lock eyes. It’s time to start this dance. This erotic dance that will, inevitably, last all night and into the early morning. Hell, it’ll probably last into all day tomorrow as well. But tomorrow can wait. All that matters is the here and now.

Black Beauty stands up from the dining room table and walks over to him. Max loves the sight of her tight butt jiggling with every step. They share a second kiss, this time less fervent than the last, but nevertheless equally endearing. Max gets up and embraces her securely, feeling every mound of muscle on her taut back. She squeezes back and nearly knocks the wind out of him. Wow! She’s powerful! Her enormous arms wrap around his torso with a force that could sever him in half.

She releases. He struggles to catch his breath. Before he makes an attempt to, she grabs his hand and leads him into the living room.

All the lights are out. A fire is burning in the fireplace, giving off a dreamy glowing aura. A large fleece blanket and two pillows are neatly laid on the floor. She’s planned this out, meticulous detail by meticulous detail. God, what a woman!

Black Beauty stops, turns around and lifts Max’s shirt over his head. She kneels down and unbuckles his belt. Max reaches down and rubs her strong, broad shoulders. Black Beauty kisses his abdominal muscles, savoring every inch. Max plans to savor every inch of her, too.

Victoria Dominguez on a beach. Heaven on Earth, no?

She finally strips him and instructs him to sit down on the blanket. Max obliges. Black Beauty takes a few steps back and starts an erotic dance that captivates him. His manhood stands at attention. She removes her negligee and drops it to the floor. It pools around her ankles. She slowly removes her bra tosses it recklessly across the room. It disappears into the darkness.

Her large, plump breasts beckon him, but she pulls away to tease him. She kicks off her stilettos and places them behind her. All that’s left are her panties.

After another languorous erotic dance, inspired by ballet and rhythm stepping, Black Beauty at last removes the one last piece of clothing from her magnificent body. She steps back and poses, proudly demonstrating her muscularity. The light from the fire accentuates every fine curve, every muscle, every inch of her hard work at the gym.

Black Beauty bends over and kisses Max again. She lightly strokes his penis in an effort to arouse him. But the truth is he’s been aroused for hours now. But he appreciates the kind gesture.

She rolls on top of him and kisses his neck, chest and shoulders. Max returns the favor and strokes her long silky black hair. Black Beauty pulls him up and they share a long, wet kiss. Max reaches down and inserts a finger inside her vagina. She lets out a moan, expressing her approval. She’s completely wet, moist and ready for him. He knows what comes next.

Coming apart from their kiss, Black Beauty lies down on her back and spreads her thick legs in a spreadeagle formation. Max caresses her calves and takes his time to admire them. But she is impatient. She wants him to enter her. She wants him to please her.

Max, not wanting to disappoint, positions his penis at the entrance of her vagina and rubs the tip against her swollen clitoris. Black Beauty moans again loudly, not holding back. Now is not the time to hold back anything.

Halle Berry is one of my favorites from my youth. God, what a beauty!

In one single movement, Max pushes himself into her until he can’t possibly get any deeper. Jolts of electricity scream through their bodies. Max bends over and kisses Black Beauty ardently, savoring her with an earnest that he’s never experienced before. She wraps her long strong legs around him and thrusts herself into him, forcing both lovers to moan out loud in unapologetic pleasure.

Max whispers something into Black Beauty’s ear. Only they know what is said, no one else. As he drives himself deeper and deeper into her, he forgets where he is for a moment. Her house? Paradise? It makes no difference.

Black Beauty clutches her lover’s body tightly against her ample chest, her bulky muscles temporarily knocking the wind out of him. They kiss with a force that neither could replicate with another person again. Wet, sloppy and untamed, these lovers are holding nothing back. They don’t have time to waste. It’s only this moment, this place and their animalistic lust for each other that matter. Why worry about tomorrow?

The lovers experience the initial sensations of orgasm. But this lovemaking session isn’t about the orgasm. No. It’s about one thing only: Love.

She rolls over and takes over on top. He enthusiastically indulges in her whim. Riding him like a cowgirl riding her prized stallion, she locks her fingers around his and playfully dances up and down his manhood. He whimpers, knowing this is a moment he will never forget. She falls on top of him, spreads her legs wide and prepares for one final thrust that will send both lovers over the edge.

She whispers something into his ear. Like before, no one in the world will ever know what she tells him.

Black Beauty lifts her perfectly rounded butt in the air, takes a deep breath, kisses Max one last time and gives him one last final thrust. Their lips never come apart.

Max and Black Beauty come at the same time. Their lips finally separate. They let out a wild scream which will surely shake the Earth’s foundation.

Her vaginal muscles contract uncontrollably. His penis pulses with authority, emptying himself into her. He wants to give her all he’s got. He wants this moment to be special.

She collapses on top of him. They breathe heavily. Sweat drips off their bodies. Their hearts pound together to the same beat. The shadows created by the fire’s light produce a picturesque image of erotic perfection. Two people. One body. Pure love.

They continue to whisper sweet words into each other’s ears. The poetry shared between them could fill a thousand volumes of classical literature.

Outside, the rain begins to fall. It gets louder and louder with each passing moment. There is now a peace between the two lovers. The gentle sounds of water cascading off the roof add to the sexual ambiance.

Finally, she lifts herself off of him. His penis has softened by now. She toys with it playfully, smiling down at him. He returns the favor and lightly strokes her beautiful labia. He sits up and kisses her breasts, lapping her tongue across her sensitive nipples. She closes her eyes, looks up to the Heavens and sighs with satisfaction. This moment cannot be any more perfect, she tells herself.

The night is still young. The fire’s celestial glow endures. The fire burning within them is far from being satiated. Their shared love will never die.

The two lovers cuddle underneath the blanket and share stories about their childhoods. There’s something poignant about the simplicity of life and the desire to share it that comes out after the act of lovemaking. They talk for what seems like an eternity. The rain continues to pour. Nurturing the earth, the light tapping of water against the windows makes both Black Beauty and Max a little nostalgic for the mutual pleasure they experienced moments before.

What should they do? How can they make this flawless night last forever?

Max has an idea.

He pulls back the blanket, kisses her again, hugs her firmly and tells her what’s on his mind. She nods.

She embraces him back, and they make love again.

And again…and again…and again…and into eternity.

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.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Twenty-One – Cheering Up

I need some cheering up. It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m still not close to landing a replacement job. I realize it’s been less than a week, but there’s got to be something out there for me, right?

Uh, maybe not. Maybe there isn’t anything out there for me right now.

I mean, I’m not going to become a high class drug dealer and follow Sam’s footsteps. I have standards! I’m more willing to go back to that God-forsaken temporary staffing place than sell dope to the rich and famous.

Sheesh. I really need some cheering up.

And I think I know the precise medicine: spending another night with Cindi.

Oh, Cindi. You are so beautiful. Tall, muscular, powerful, sexually confident, compassionate, funny, intelligent, gentle…you get it. She’s awesome. So fucking awesome.

God, I need some Cindi North right now! Like, right now! This very instant.

Now.

But it’s Saturday afternoon, so I’m just a few hours closer to seeing the Divine Muscle Goddess again. I promised last time that I’d bring something other than a bottle of wine, so I better keep that promise. What should I bring? I think something healthy and delicious will give me bonus points with her. Let’s check out what the interwebs can tell me…

Hmmm. Gluten-free Yorkshire pudding? Yuck. That doesn’t sound too appetizing.

I don’t think I should do anything with meat. I’m sure Cindi loves a good steak like anybody else, but she said something healthy, so I better stick to the script on this one. How about…

Oh! Here it is! “Curried couscous and red pepper salad.” That sounds delectable. In fact, that sounds pretty darn good. I think I’ll make that.

I run down the street to the store and buy all the necessary ingredients. While standing in the check-out line I see a former co-worker from Wellford Fitness Center and divert my eyes in order to prevent him from seeing me. When I see him leave, I begin to wonder: does everybody know about me and Michelle? Does everyone there know we got fired because we were caught by the boss going at it like dogs at 10:30 in the morning?

No doubt, but I still don’t want to be seen in public by any of them. Granted, I have nothing to be ashamed about. I mean, what straight guy wouldn’t be proud to have had sex with a gorgeous blonde like Michelle? I’d shake the hand of the guy who’s lucky enough to score someone as hot as her.

Which makes me also wonder: In the past few weeks, I’ve been with a strong female bodybuilder AND a hot blonde. Just thinking about that makes me smile with pride. Knowing I was a virgin not so long ago nearly makes me laugh out loud.

As I prepare this couscous salad, it starts to sink in that I’m going to see the Lovely Muscle Angel in less than three hours. She didn’t give me a specific time to show up, but I’m going to assume 5 o’clock should be acceptable.

The clock on the wall says 4:38. Time to go!

I quickly wrap the bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad (which I tasted before to make sure it’s good) in plastic wrapping and scurry out the door excitedly. It’s not every day you get to meet up with an amazing muscle woman like Miss Cindi North!

The drive up to Everett zooms by quicker than a fat kid eating a Twinkie (yes, I just used this lousy analogy. Live with it). I decide to go the speed limit instead of flooring the pedal because I can’t afford to get a speeding ticket at this time. I’m broke and unemployed. A fine from Johnny Law would not bode well for me.

When I arrive at her house I notice not a single car is parked near her driveway. Is she not here yet? I’m here a bit before 5 p.m., but she should be expecting me. Maybe she parked her car in her garage. That’s always a possibility.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye I see a trashy blue sedan park right in front of me. I look forward and see a big, burly dark haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Yup, that’s her alright!

We both get out of our cars and lock our doors simultaneously. We stare at each other and smile unapologetically.

“Ryan! It’s good to see you! Were you waiting for me for a long time?”

“No. I just got here, literally a minute ago. No, you’re fine.”

Carrying two large grocery bags, Cindi looks as stunning as ever. Dressed in a tight pink top and baggy dark green sweat pants, she seems to become more muscular every time I see her. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Cindi North’s body will never cease to amaze me. Never.

“Come on in. I just did some shopping for dinner tonight. And other things, of course. It’s convenient when the store is right across the street from the gym.”

“I know the feeling.”

Cindi escorts us inside her house. I shut the door close behind me. She immediately heads over to the kitchen to put her groceries away. I follow her, clutching my bowl of curried couscous and red pepper salad tightly in my arms.

“What did you bring, lover?” Cindi asks while putting items away in the refrigerator.

“I made a salad. Something healthy. I hope you like it. It’s a curried couscous and red pepper salad. I tasted it ahead of time. It’s quite good.”

“Wow! That sounds incredible. I can’t wait to try it.” Placing several cans of tomato sauce into a cupboard, Cindi seems to be in a more festive mood than usual.

“You seem upbeat, Cindi. Dare I ask why?”

“Do I? I guess I do feel a bit snazzier tonight. Maybe it’s because I just a modeling job this morning!”

“Really? You got a modeling job? Congratulations. That sounds like a fantastic opportunity.”

“It really is. It’s with this new modeling agency that specializes in featuring unorthodox and nontraditional types of models. As a female bodybuilder, I guess I fit that bill.” Cindi is now pouring salt and extra virgin olive oil into a large soup pot. She turns the stove on to “medium” and takes more items out of her grocery bags, including various vegetables and spices.

“Well, you are a nontraditional looking woman. Not too many ladies around here have as much muscle as you, I must say.” My mouth becomes dry as I scan up and down her buff body.

“Yeah, this is true. I’m happy to get the exposure that comes from modeling. I know they’re a small company and I’m just one of many models they’ve hired, but I get a feeling this is the start of something special!”

An hour later, Cindi puts the finishing touches on dinner. We end up eating a lovely leek and spinach tomato stew served with my salad and a freshly baked baguette. Toward the end of dinner Cindi brings out a delightful bottle of merlot that we nearly finish all at once. A good time was had by all.

“That was delicious, Cindi.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it. This was a recipe I got from Julie.” Cindi and I clean up the dining table and place our dishes in the sink. I courteously give them a good rinse.

“What’s Julie up to these days?”

“She’s doing great. She’s training for a major competition that I’m going to skip this year. I’ve won it before and I don’t need to win it again. I feel like if I don’t compete she’ll have a better chance of winning.”

“So you think you’ll win again if you decided to compete?”

Cindi turns toward me and stares at me straight into the eyes. Her face is deadly serious.

“Of course. I always win. I’m practically letting her win.”

Silence.

We both burst out laughing. This is what I LOVE about Cindi North. She’s big, strong and tough as nails but she has a huge soft spot underneath all her layers of muscle and brawn. We share a kiss after our laughter dies out.

“You taste delicious, Ryan.” Cindi licks her lips, tasting my essence.

“You taste like leeks,” I deadpan.

Cindi giggles and kisses me again, this time deeper and with more passion. I feel her tongue piercing inside my mouth, exploring me feverously.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Cindi whispers into my ear. I nod my head in agreement. And with that, we walk hand-in-hand up to her bedroom, as if we’ve done this many times before. In a strange and unusual way, it genuinely feels like we’ve done this a million times in the past. I can’t explain why, but this feels SOOOOOOOO right.

We enter her bedroom and instantaneously begin our mating ritual. She closes the blinds and I close the door. We simultaneously turn toward each other and begin our stare-down, like two scruffy gunslingers in the Old West. Cindi walks to me and wraps her strong arms around my entire body. I quiver at the feeling of her vascular, veiny arms poking into my softer skin. I feel my manhood harden as I have to look up to reach her lips.

We kiss. Again. And again, and again, and again. We love kissing. Next to coital penetration, it might be our favorite shared physical activity.

After a moment of stillness, Cindi lifts my shirt over my head and starts kissing my stomach and moves up to my chest and neck. I reach down and pull her sweatpants down, fondling her massive legs one thigh at a time. I feel the deep curves within her strong quads and shiver at their thickness. Cindi licks my Adam’s apple, causing me to squirm in response. She massages the back of my neck in an effort to relax me.

“You smell so good right now,” I whisper into the open. Cindi answers back by gently biting into my shoulder. I tremble as her teeth lovingly sink into my flesh.

Cindi unilaterally strips off her pink top, revealing her wide chest. She’s not wearing a bra, so I immediately suck on her left nipple and stroke the other with my fingertips. Cindi unzips my pants and pulls them down toward my ankles. I kick them away and bend down to remove my socks. Barefoot, Cindi is left wearing nothing but lacy white panties which are already soaking wet. I feel her vulva to get a better sense of her feminine moisture. She smiles.

“I was ready half way through dinner,” she chuckles.

“Why didn’t we starting doing it then?” I ask.

“I wanted to eat first.”

“Well…I want to eat NOW.” I bend down and pull down her panties and begin licking her vulva with all the strength of my tongue. Cindi laughs at my terrible joke but stops when she feels my tongue explore the inside of her intimate parts.

“Make me come, Ryan. Make my come!” Cindi commands, standing there as naked as the day she was born.

I push Cindi onto the bed and she flops down on her back. Surprised at my unexpected display of brute strength, she moans delightfully as I continue to orally satisfy her. Her large clitoris stands at attention, her “little penis” occupying more and more of my attention. I get the feeling Cindi likes a man who takes control in bed. Though I may not be the most experienced lover in the world, I’ve learned a lot in the past few weeks and I’m becoming more comfortable taking the lead.

I grip her hips firmly as my tongue continues to please her beautiful vulva. I then fully concentrate on her clitoris in order to bring her to orgasm. Cindi’s breathing quickens as I continue to massage her girly penis. I stick my right index finger inside of her and find her g-spot.

“Ryan! I love you, Ryan!” Cindi candidly yells out in the heat of passion. Her gorgeous clitoris takes one final tongue lashing before Cindi finally climaxes. I press onto her g-spot when I sense she’s successfully reached her moment of ecstasy.

“Ohhhh!!!!!!” Cindi moans, expressing her pleasure unashamedly. Her vaginal walls contract rhythmically as a modest amount of white milky fluid gradually drips out of her, staining her bedspread.

I remain still as Cindi finishes wriggling around the bed, enjoying the aftershocks of her pleasure. Her breathing subsides to normalcy as my erection lays across her right thigh, ready to be pleased. I lean over and kiss her eight-pack abs, one individual ab at a time. I lick her bellybutton as well.

She briefly starts to stroke my penis, forcing a small drip of clear fluid to escape from it. But Cindi decides now is not the time to satisfy me yet. She gets up in a sitting position and wipes a small amount of vaginal juice that leaked onto her bottom. She kisses me again, sending electric jolts running through my entire system. Her hands explore my hands as her large, strong fingers interlock with my smaller, softer fingers. We look at each other.

“Before I satisfy you, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Cindi. I’ll do anything. Just ask.”

Cindi kisses me again, firmly grabbing both of my hands. She takes a few of my fingers into her mouth and sucks on them sensually. I feel like my erection is about to explode, but I contain my excitement and enjoy the pleasure she is giving me.

She leans over and nibbles on my ear. She rubs her saliva onto my fingers.

“Fist me,” she whispers.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Eleven – The Girl Next Door

I return home at 2:30 p.m. after getting off my shift and doing an arms work out. I didn’t see Monifa after I saw her deadlifting, so I’m assuming she finished her work out before I got done washing those God-forsaken towels.

The walk back to my apartment was hellish because to the rain. I didn’t bring a jacket because, judging from the conditions earlier this morning, I didn’t think I needed one. That’s a testament to how unpredictable the Seattle weather can be on any given day.

I live on the seventh floor of my apartment, so I have a pretty good view of the neighborhood. But today the view isn’t terribly spectacular.

As I exit the elevator and proceed toward my room, I notice the unit next to mine is being cleaned out by the building staff. I see Pablo, our resident maintenance man, repairing the drywall in unit #724 (I live in unit #725). He looks hard at work.

“Good day, Pablo. New tenant?”

“Yes, sir. She’s moving in today. But I didn’t know about this drywall problem until the boss told me about it an hour ago. This shit is going to take all day to fix.”

“That sucks,” I say to him, unlocking my door. “Who is it? A family? A couple? A loner like me?”

“It’s a girl. A black girl. Very cute. You’ll like her.”

A black girl? Who’s new? It can’t be…

“Did you catch her name?” I ask casually.

“Nope. But I don’t think she’s married. She’s only bringing her cat with her. Why? Are you looking for a girlfriend?”

I laugh. “No, no. Of course not. I just want to say hello to her whenever I run into her. It’s nice to know her name in advance. How cute is she?”

Pablo puts down his tools and looks at me straight.

“Very cute. So hot. She has a fine ass. Fine ass, my friend. I’d tap her in a heartbeat.” Pablo then starts to do an obscene dance that I’m guessing is intended to simulate sex.

“I’m sure you would. And your taste in women is very similar to mine. Maybe we could both tap her.” I’m not usually that crass, but sometimes I get a little overzealous after working out. All that panting, sweating and extra blood flow does something to my mind.

“Oh yeah, like takes turns, right?”

“Uh huh. We’ll see how that goes. Take care, Pablo.”

“Take care, hombre.”

Cutting our conversation short, I slam the door shut behind me forcefully, so to tell him I’m retreating into my own little world and I am no longer interested in talking about “tapping asses.” Gee, what if Monifa is the girl who’s moving in next to me? That would be epic.

Monifa is one hell of a gorgeous woman. She’s not nearly as buff as Cindi, but she has a whole plethora of redeeming qualities: She has a beautiful face (honestly, one of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen!), a curvy body, large breasts (I consider myself a “leg guy,” but her breasts are something special), gorgeous black skin, toned muscles, abdominal muscles that can hold their own against any female peer (like Cindi) and enough booty to last a lifetime.

I have no idea what “enough booty to last a lifetime” means exactly, but you get the picture. Her butt is FINE. And it definitely deserves all capital letters.

But enough of that. For all I know, some other woman could be moving in next to me. What interests me at the moment is lunch. If I recall correctly, I have leftover lasagna in the refrigerator as well as a half-eaten take-out box of chow mein from a Chinese restaurant across the street from Wellford Fitness Center. There’s a 20-something Chinese girl who works there who’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s also shorter than a midget (that’s an exaggeration, but I highly doubt she even cracks five feet tall).

Hm…I think I hear the lasagna calling my name.

“Ryan! Eat me! Eat me before I turn black and you have to throw me away!” the lasagna says to me. Believe it or not, there once was a time when I buried a container of clam chowder in the back of the refrigerator and forgot about it for nearly a year. When I discovered it, it became not green, but completely black.

And, it smelled like nobody’s business. Seriously, I wanted to puke after looking at it. Luckily, I did not. But I do not envy the garbage man who had to toss it in the back of his truck the next day. Ew.

Putting a slice of lasagna on a plate and placing it in the microwave, I set it for two minutes and wait. In the meantime, I reflect upon the beautiful specimen that is Monifa Okendu.

Wow. As if having Cindi in my life isn’t enough, I now have someone else I can fantasize about when I masturbate before going to bed. I consider women of all colors to be beautiful. Of course, ugly people (both men and women) exist across the entire ethnic spectrum, but I find a beautiful black woman to be especially pleasing to the eye. I have no idea why, I just do.

Maybe it’s because you very rarely see a black woman dating an Asian man. You see more of the other way around, but Asian guys tend to either stay with Asian women or venture out into the land of the paler skin ladies.

I wonder how many Asian guys have married a female bodybuilder. Who the hell knows?

Cindi is a Latina and she looks very exotic. Light brown skin and silky jet black hair (with streaks of gray sprinkled all around), Miss North makes for one hell of a woman. Even without all her gorgeous muscles, her 6’4” height is enough to make basketball coaches drool at the possibility of her playing center for their team.

Ding!

The lasagna is done. Finally!

After taking it out of the microwave and grabbing a fork, I plop down on my sofa and turn on the TV. Flipping through endless channels with nothing interesting going on, I decide on the safe choice of ESPN. Maybe I can catch highlights of all the action around the NFL yesterday.

The Seahawks lost. No surprises there. The Patriots wiped out the Bills. No surprise there. The Rams barely edged the Packers. That’s sort of surprising. I guess it’s true what they say about football: on any given Sunday, anybody can win.

Speaking of “winning,” who would have thought a month ago that I would be with a female bodybuilder like Cindi North? Who would have thought that I–”

Wait, am I still thinking about her? Holy shit. She can’t leave my mind. And let’s be serious for a moment: I’m not exactly “with” her in the traditional sense. We hooked up via Craigslist. In fact, we haven’t even officially “done it” yet. I just came on her face and she thanked me by giving me oral sex; which felt amazing, by the way!

Then she let me come on her abs. How hot is that? Yowzzzaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then I hear outside my door Pablo striking up a conversation with somebody. And from the sound of it, he’s talking with a woman! Holy smokes, it could be her!

I put my plate of lasagna on my computer desk and run to my front door. I close one eye and peek through the little hole in the middle of the door. I see Pablo holding a drill and an orange extension cord but the person he’s talking to is hidden from view. Dude, just move to the left a little! Or maybe the woman he’s chatting with should move within my line of sight.

I could make the excuse of checking my mail. I could do that. But the mail carrier comes at 4 p.m. every day. Checking my mail now would make no sense. Hm. I could always–”

Suddenly, Pablo enters back into the apartment, presumably to finish working. But where is the woman? I don’t see her! Maybe she went back into the apartment with him. Are they about to have sex?

Wait, that’s ridiculous! Pablo is there to repair the drywall, not to participate in a conjugal visit. Whoa, my mind can wander into some unusual places sometimes.

You know what? It’s stupid of me to just stand here and peek at her like a horny middle school boy peeping at girls during gym class. I’m a man! I can just walk into the hallway and say I heard people talking (which is true) and that I want to meet my new neighbor (which is also true) because I’m a friendly guy who wants to welcome everybody to the neighborhood (which is not even close to true. I hardly know any of my neighbors. We all sort of live in our own little worlds independent of each other).

I’ll do it. I’ll just open the door, poke my head in her apartment and say “hi.” What’s the harm in that? People do it all the time to meet their new neighbors. I should handle this like an adult.

I open the door and step outside. Closing the door behind me, I creep over to unit #724 and poke my curious head inside. I see Pablo diligently working, but nobody else. Was I imagining their whole conversation together? I probably was–”

“Oh, hi there!”

I turn around and see Her. The same woman I saw at work earlier today. Monifa Okendu. I take a look at her from head to toe. She’s dressed in gray sweat pants, a tight black shirt (that gratuitously shows off her large, beautiful breasts), a blue denim jacket and a bright orange scarf around her long neck. The last time I saw her she was dressed in a pink spandex bra and a pair of tight pink shorts that left very little to the imagination. I nearly fainted at the sight of her curvaceous, jaw-dropping figure.

And she still doesn’t look half bad.

“Hey! Monifa, right?”

“Yes. You remembered my name. Is your name Tim?”

“No, it’s Ryan.”

“Sorry. Excuse me. I’m new in town. I’m meeting a lot of people for the first time. Forgive me.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry. I completely understand. It’s difficult trying to remember everybody’s names. But now you definitely remember mine.”

“Do you live here?”

“Yes. I live in this unit right here. Are you just moving in?”

Pablo is still hard at work. I’m not sure if he knows we’re having a conversation right here in the hallway. Otherwise, I’d expect him to come on out and crack an inappropriate joke at our expense. He’s the kind of guy who would do that sort of thing.

“I am,” Monifa says, taking a quick peek into my unit. “I guess now we’re going to be next door neighbors. How exciting!”

Exciting? I was thinking the exact same thing. Dear lord, she has an incredibly BEAUTIFUL face! Yikes. It’s perfectly angular with sharp features that accentuate her flawless facial characteristics. If Cindi’s beauty is her strength, Monifa’s beauty is her…beauty. My God, what a beautiful woman!

“This is going to be very exciting. Is it just you moving in?” I hope I’m not being too forward by asking her this.

“Yes. Just me. Are you married?”

“No, not at the moment. Just me. Living the single life!” How lame is that response?

Monifa laughs. She has a strong, deep voice that gives her authority. I wonder if she ever uses it to her advantage…

“Well…” Monifa begins, “while he’s working on fixing my dry wall, I have no place to stay. Do you know of any good places to spend a few hours around here?”

Should I invite her into my room? Hell no! That’s being WAY too forward. I think I’ll recommend D’Angelo’s Café to her. It’s close, safe, serves good food and Sam shouldn’t be there. At least, for Monifa’s sake, I hope not.

“You can go across the street to D’Angelo’s Café. It’s a great local coffee shop that serves some very good pastries. You’re probably in the mood for something to eat, so you should get one of their grilled sandwiches. I haven’t tried a lot of them, but I’m sure they’re all delicious.”

“Thank you Ryan! I really appreciate the advice. I think I’ll do that. Want to join me?”

I almost fell down in disbelief. Monifa wants me to join her? Of course I will! It’s not every day a woman with superhuman beauty asks you to join her for coffee (I understand that Cindi also asked to meet me at a coffee shop, but that’s beside the point). I think I’ll take her up on this offer.

“Sure. Sounds great. Let’s go.”

“Great!” Monifa says. Her silky black skin almost makes her glow like an angel. I think she actually is an angel.

As we turn to leave, I lock my door and see Pablo out of the corner of my eye, deep inside Monifa’s apartment. He gives me a quick wink. I wink back. He gives me a wicked smile. I return the wicked smile.

We have an understanding.