session – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Black Princess

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Out of respect for her privacy, I will not reveal the real identity of “Black Princess.” Rest assured she’s a real-life female bodybuilder. But it is not necessary in such a public forum to give out her name for everyone to see. What happens during a muscle worship session should stay within the confines of that motel room. It’s a matter of basic ethics. So instead, I will just post stock photos of models to stand in for Black Princess. This means none of the women featured in this article is the actual Black Princess. Any indication otherwise is purely unintentional. If you are featured in any of these photos and would like me to take it down, please send me an email at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com and I will promptly remove it. Enjoy!

***

“Do you like muscular girls?”

I take a moment to pause, turn to look her in the eyes, and smile.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!”

She laughs and nods her head in agreement. It’s not a silly question, but one that still needs to be asked. After all, do I like muscular women because of who they are, or because of what “services” they can provide?

The answer is simple: I love muscular women for who they are as people. They’re awesome. And worthy of being praised. And deserving of their accolades.

It really is that simple.

Not too long ago I experienced a muscle worship session with a gorgeous female bodybuilder who was travelling up to Seattle for a few days. As always, I’m not going to use her real name, so let’s refer to her as “Black Princess.” She’s a fun-loving gal with beautiful curvy muscles, silky smooth skin, a radiant smile, and the greatest butt in the world. I enjoyed every minute of our time together, which lasted a bit longer than I – and she – had anticipated.

Unlike most muscle worship sessions, this was one that I set up at the last minute. Three days beforehand, to be exact. Normally I set an appointment with the session provider at least a month prior to the meeting. That way I can set aside enough money to pay for it, clear my schedule if necessary, and wait with eager anticipation. This time around, however, it was a more spur of the moment thing. My life has been pretty busy of late, so seeing what was going on in the “female muscle scene” wasn’t high on my to-do list. But I’m sure glad I did carve out some time to check it out!

Like most of the FBBs I’ve meet, I knew who Black Princess was before. She’s one of the many ladies over the years I’ve come to adore through her photos and videos. She isn’t as prolific as others when it comes to producing media, but she is definitely out there for anyone to discover. She’s not one of the more “famous” FBBs within the community of people who love FBBs, but you know who she is when you see her. She’d hard to forget.

I sent her a polite and brief email asking to see her for a simple muscle worship session. No wrestling. No BDSM stuff. Just looking for a fun, casual, and sensual time. Her replies were equally brief – although to be fair, much more so – and to the point. She, like many female bodybuilders who offers one-on-one sessions, probably gets inundated with tons of emails daily. So I was not turned off by her seemingly curt replies.

Her hotel was located at the edge of Downtown Seattle, very close to where I work. So I didn’t need to travel far to get to her room. It was a 25 minute walk at the most. I don’t consider that too long. I found the convenience a pleasant surprise. Plus, it wasn’t raining or too cold outside. That was a bonus.

Unlike most hotels, the building was a combination of apartment units and hotel units – meaning it was technically a private residence. So I couldn’t get inside unless I had a keycard or code. I texted her asking for her to come downstairs and fetch me. After a two minute wait that seemed like an hour (when you’re eagerly anticipating meeting a gorgeous female bodybuilder, time passes very slowly), I finally see a beautiful young black woman strut down the lobby and open the door. We exchange names and recognize that we have mutual business to take care of with each other.

Minutes later we enter into her room. It’s scorching hot! She apologizes and says she grew up in a household where the thermostat was constantly cranked up, so that’s just what she’s used to. She immediately turns on an air conditioner machine and within moments it’s humming and rumbling. I had to wipe off several drips of sweat off my weary face. I had a long and boring day at work. Naturally, I was also distracted by the nervous anticipation of seeing Black Princess. That didn’t make time move faster, unfortunately.

But here I am. Excited as can be!

Black Princess wore a button-down shirt and sweat pants. After all, she couldn’t wear anything too sexy or revealing when strolling across the lobby. That would definitely attract unwanted attention! She asked for permission to change. I told her “yes,” as if my answer would ever have been “no.” She walks into the bathroom and I undress down to my boxers as I wait.

Soon, she emerges from the bathroom wearing a white sports bra, athletic thong, and leather heels. She looks marvelous! With the shoes, she probably stood at a little under 6 feet tall. Without, she’s a few inches shorter than me. But for now, she towers over me. I don’t complain one bit. She has beautiful hazel brown skin, a killer hairdo, and nice curvy muscles that aren’t too big but big enough that you’d do a double-take if you ever saw her in public. She’s beyond beautiful. Wow! Stunning. A work of art. A masterpiece of human flesh. Unreal.

Black Princess is everything you want in a female bodybuilder: Gorgeous face, sparkling personality, curvy muscles, unquestionable femininity, an easy-going style, and humility. She isn’t one to intimidate you or make you feel inferior. She wants you to have a good time. She’s nice to talk to and has plenty of fun stories to share. We got off on a conversation that will stick with me forever:

“I’m not gay, but I love girls with muscles,” she tells me.

“Really? That doesn’t technically make you a lesbian?” I ask.

“I don’t think so. But I love touching their bodies!”

We laugh it off. But it illustrates an interesting idea. I ask her if she enjoys touching the bodies of muscular guys. She says she’s not really turned on by that sort of thing, despite her claims that she’s straight. She likes men, but also enjoys muscular women. She loves touching hard feminine flesh. I tell her if there’s such a thing as a sexual orientation that revolves around being attracted to muscular women, we’d both be card-carrying members. We snicker together in agreement.

I have no idea if Black Princess is straight, a lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or whatever. I have the feeling even she has no clue what to call herself exactly. And you know what? It doesn’t matter how she chooses to identify. She likes what she likes and there’s no good reason to attach a label to it.

We stay mostly in bed. Eventually I ask her to straddle me. I reach up and feel her biceps. She flexes them for me. A chill runs down my spine when I experience her hardness. She’s so soft…yet so hard. She’s that multidimensional. She turns over and I explore the deep mounds of her back. She’s a sturdy gal with enough confidence to conquer the world. It’s surprising she hasn’t yet.

We chat casually about her daily routine, the weather patterns of Seattle (a clichéd conversation if there ever is one), my preferences in muscular women, and other mundane topics. I cannot stop touching her perfectly formed butt! It’s flawlessly shaped and she knows it. Damn well. She mentions how her friends are envious of her derriere. I can see why. If yoga pants “tell no lies,” then she has no reason to hide anything. I felt privileged to have been able to place my hands on her immaculate butt.

Black Princess doesn’t do full nudity, but she did generously remove her bra once my hour-long session with her lasted longer than that. I don’t think she’s a “clock water.” It probably helps that I was her last client of the night. It was a joy to cup her full bosom and suck on each nipple with languorous delight. Her nipples were taut and sensitive, judging from her quiet moans as my lips explored them. I really wanted to explore her clit, but she didn’t seem willing to remove her panties. I didn’t ask, but somehow I got the feeling she wouldn’t want to.

But that’s the least of my worries. I caressed her bottom, her thighs, her calves, her back, her biceps, her shoulders, her neck, and finally…her face.

I don’t often spend a lot of time caressing an FBB’s face, but I did with Black Princess. She’s a gorgeous woman. Even without her shapely body, she’d be a supermodel that graces the covers of all the magazines. Her face is art. Sharp eyes, angular jawline, rich brown skin, and not a single wrinkle – I guess the cliché that “black don’t crack” has some merit after all – on her beautiful visage, Black Princess sure doesn’t look like a woman approaching her 40s. She could pass for someone in her mid 20s. I felt a tingle of excitement while stroking her soft skin. It’s one thing to look at a beautiful face. It’s quite another to actually touch it; as if beauty is just as tactile as it is aesthetic.

As strange as this sounds, even if I were blindfolded I could tell that she’s beautiful. Just from how her face feels it’s evident that she’s a genuine beauty. Maybe that’s just crazy talk, but it sounds perfectly rational from my perspective.

The rest of our evening together is as low key as it can get. She lies down on her side as my hands carefully explore every inch of her body. We speak, but not too loudly. It’s a peaceful atmosphere, nothing even close to resembling a rough-and-tumble fantasy wrestling or hardcore BDSM session. For skeptics out there who think FBBs are gross or that guys who like muscular women are emotionally disturbed perverts, I’d like for them to be a fly on the wall who could observe our time together. They’d quickly see nothing strange, disturbing, or out of the ordinary transpires during a typical muscle worship appointment. Then again, being a fly on the wall has its cons. You can’t jump in and participate yourself.

Seeing Black Princess wearing very little is, without question, enough to make you want to jump in!

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Eventually our time together came to a halt. As I put my clothes back on, Black Princess tells me about a friend who lives in Seattle and how she plans to meet with her the following day. She hints that she may be back in this area sooner rather than later. How incredible that would be! She’s definitely someone I’d like to meet again.

As I walk back to my car, I reflect on our time together. She’s a princess, but a humble one at that. She’s kind, quiet, easygoing, sensual, and well aware of her unique beauty – but not conceited about it. She knows her beauty is an asset, not a weapon. A force for good, not a tool for self-aggrandizement. Black Princess is a woman who doesn’t stand out in a crowd, but will capture your full attention if you see her in an intimate setting. She’s beautiful in every way imaginable.

Like Blonde Amazon, Black Princess is a jewel who makes the world around her shine brighter. She isn’t “famous” in the conventional sense of that word, but she leaves a lasting impression that will never cease to make you smile.

As I write this, I’m still smiling. It’s not difficult to understand why.

Poetry in Motion: The Most Beautiful Sight of My Life

The fun really starts after these come off!

Author’s note: None of the women whose photos are featured in this post is the woman I’ve referred to as Muscle Angel. Her identity will not be revealed even if you privately ask me. So to confirm, Sol Meneghini, Emery Miller, and Alina Popa are not Muscle Angel. Thanks!

Two years ago I scheduled a muscle worship session with a well-known female bodybuilder. Such an occurrence happens three or four times per year for me, so this is nothing out of the ordinary.

I hadn’t seen her before, but definitely had heard of her. I won’t reveal her true identity, but I will say this to describe her: She’s a gorgeous, accomplished, internationally renowned female bodybuilder, model, and session provider with an impeccably sexy reputation. She’s easy to get along with and genuinely wants her clients to enjoy themselves during their time together. For the sake of this story, I’ll refer to her as Muscle Angel.

Muscle Angel was travelling to Seattle in the summer of 2015 as part of her usual trip throughout the continental United States. She was born in another country (I won’t tell you where) but spoke perfect English with an adorable foreign accent accompanying it. Because I knew of her beforehand, and admired her immense beauty and achievements, I had to schedule a muscle worship session with Muscle Angel. I mean, how could I not?

So, I e-mailed her and requested a one-hour long sensual muscle worship session. She offered three options: bikini, topless or nude. I was willing to pay a bit extra, so I went with nude. If you’re going to go there, why not go all the way?

She was cordial via e-mail and I got a positive vibe from her. Leading up to our appointment I watched as many videos I could find of her. Oh boy, I knew I was in for a treat! Her gracefulness, her exotic beauty, and her irresistibly curvy muscles were the total package. You couldn’t ask for anything else. I would be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Plus, she didn’t skimp when it came to her lodging arrangements. Muscle Angel stayed at one of the fancier and highly regarded hotels in the heart of downtown Seattle. Usually FBBs stay at more affordable motels close to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport (just a side note, I happen to live a few miles south of the airport, so I usually luck out when I see an FBB for a session by not having to travel very far). But not Muscle Angel. She obviously has expensive tastes. She doesn’t just want to stay in the city – she wants to enjoy all the luxuries it can offer her. I have no qualms about that sort of attitude.

Eventually, the evening of our appointment arrived. I took the commuter train to the downtown area and walked a few blocks to the hotel. I had been there before for a work-related conference, so I knew where it was. But it would be the first time I would ever go inside a suite – especially for the occasion of seeing a gorgeous female bodybuilder in the flesh! It was dark and humid outside, but I knew in a matter of moments I would be feeling much more comfortable.

A lucky guy working on making sure Sol Meneghini is ready for a photoshoot.

Like always, I nervously waited in the lobby to receive the magical text from her telling me which room she is staying at. It came. I quickly got up from my seat and headed to the elevator. Surprisingly, she was staying on the 45^th floor! It’s definitely one of the highest points you can reach within the city limits. The elevator ride was not as long as you’d expect. Luxury hotels tend to have fantastically functioning elevators that get you from point A to point B in a matter of seconds.

I walked briskly to her room and knocked on the door as casually as I could. A few moments later the door opened. And there she was. Wow! As gorgeous as you could imagine, Muscle Angel was indeed angelic. It’s one thing to see photos and videos of someone; it’s quite another to actually meet them in-person. Trust me, the experience of seeing her in the flesh nearly made me collapse right there on the floor. Luckily, I was able to maintain my composure and I confidently walked inside to commence our time together.

After shutting the door and allowing us all the privacy in the world, we exchanged the usual pleasantries, small talk, and of course her financial compensation. I undressed and got as “comfortable” as I could possibly be. She wore a sexy two piece bikini to start off the evening. Muscle Angel looked like a natural Beach Beauty who could spend all her days lying on the sand, soaking up UV rays and sipping on margaritas. Alas, she obviously doesn’t spend her time on such frivolities. She also goes to the gym every once in a while!

Our time together was pretty laid back. I’m not interested in wrestling, so we spent the majority of our time chatting while I enjoyed the privilege of feeling up her rock hard body. Muscle Angel wore a modest amount of makeup, as if she needed artificial means to enhance her already considerable beauty. No additional assistance was necessary, if you ask me. Her jet black hair, dark eyes, and light bronze skin gave her an exotic look that made her ethnicity hard to identify. And her accent was so delightful it sent shivers up my spine.

As the hour wore on, Muscle Angel eventually took off her bikini top and bottom and allowed her body to exist in its natural state. And trust me, seeing her in the nude almost made my jaw drop to the floor. It didn’t of course, but if that hadn’t happen then the entire room should have caught on fire and burned to the ground. Thankfully, that didn’t transpire either.

Muscle Angel, in the nude, was simply breathtaking. Every single inch of her immaculate body looked deliberately sculpted to achieve a level of “perfection.” She wasn’t super huge, which worked to her advantage. She was undeniably feminine. Her curves had extra curves. For a middle-aged woman, Muscle Angel appeared ageless. She’s in a perfect stage of her life: Not too young, not too old, but aged enough to convey wisdom, sexual experience, and worldliness.

And she conveyed all of those things, no question about it. Out of all the female bodybuilders I’ve met for muscle worship sessions throughout the years, Muscle Angel is probably the most perfect combination of brains, beauty, muscularity, and erotic vivacity that I’ve ever encountered. She doesn’t particularly excel at any of those things, but she’s one of the best at embodying them all in a way that’s respectable and difficult to replicate.

I’ve met FBBs who are prettier. I’ve met FBBs who are more muscular. I’ve met FBBs who have more engaging personalities. I’ve met FBBs who are flat out sexier. But none of them could hold a candle to Muscle Angel when it comes to personifying everything you could ask for in one package. That’s not an easy feat.

Emery Miller is poetry posing by some rocks.

This particular session was noteworthy for the fact it was the first time I had ever given cunnilingus to a muscular woman. Muscle Angel was open and willing for me to “go down” on her and orally please her. Her beautiful big clit tasted wonderful, as did her completely shaved (or waxed) pubic area. I have no idea if I was able to make her come, but that didn’t really matter to me at the moment. I was just beside myself at the reality of being able to place my tongue and lips against an FBB’s considerably enormous genitalia.

As our time together neared its end, I laid on the bed – as naked as I could be – while Muscle Angel got up to get a bottle of baby oil from her suitcase. Obviously, it was time for me to receive a hand job and experience the so-called “happy ending” that so often concludes these kinds of festivities. It was at that moment that I experienced The Most Beautiful Sight of My Life.

The floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room with moonlight. Anyone who happened to have been looking at the 45^th floor could have seen us, naked and vulnerable. Well, I was vulnerable. She wasn’t. Muscle Angel was in her element. She walked gracefully from one end of the room back to the bed. She was as naked as the day she was born. But she wasn’t naked. She was nude. She was powerful. She was magnificent. She was sexy. She had all the authority to be whatever she wanted to be.

For a brief period of time – four or five seconds – I saw The Most Beautiful Sight of My Life. I saw a gorgeous strong naked woman strut around like a true Goddess. She transcended her humanity. She became not a human being, but a deity. She was an immortal walking amongst us mere mortals. I felt like I was in the presence of Greatness. I was in the presence of the Divine. I was witnessing poetry in motion. Muscle Angel was positively angelic – in every sense of the word. I knew I would never see a sight quite like this ever again in my life.

Her hips sensually swayed from side to side. Every time she lifted her leg I could see her muscular calves swell up. Her hair glistened. Her golden brown skin looked like actual gold, as if King Midas had touched every single inch of her body. Her breasts were slender but uniquely feminine. Her curvaceous figure defied any great artist’s imagination. Her neatly waxed pubic area was classy. And of course, her beautifully sculpted muscles were awe-inspiring. Her pretty face was complemented with icy brown eyes that expressed confidence and authority all at the same time.

When you looked into her eyes, you knew you were in the presence of a true alpha female who wasn’t embarrassed by her femininity and freely uses it to her advantage. Yet, she also had a caring and nurturing side. She loves being sexy but doesn’t try to be sexy, if that makes any sense. She doesn’t need to “act sultry” in order to heat up the room. All she had to do is to be herself…and her naturalistic sensuality could play out uninterrupted.

Unfortunately, those four or five seconds had to end. But from my perspective, it lasted for an eternity. Forever will this image be burned into my memory: An absolutely gorgeous woman strutting around with the perfect combination of sexiness, confidence, coolness, and nonchalance. Once again, Muscle Angel didn’t have to try to be sexy. She just was. Without putting in any effort. That takes more than just talent or skill. That cannot be taught. That’s an ability that only an exclusive number of people can possess.

The rest of the evening went about as you would expect it to. We got frisky. She generously provided me orgasmic relief. We kissed and hugged “good bye.” I went home with a big fat grin on my face. Muscle Angel proceeded to get a good night’s rest and probably left for the airport first thing the next morning to catch a flight to her next destination. I don’t recall where that was. The next day was a work day so I had to somehow wake up and slog through an 8-hour borefest all the while trying to not get distracted by the previous evening’s erotic shenanigans.

But alas, I’ll never forget our time together. Most of all, I will never forget The Most Beautiful Sight of My Life: a strong, confident woman walking nude in front of a large open window for all the world to see. She looked majestic. She was so damn strong and so undeniably feminine at the same time. Her sexiness was effortless. She didn’t try to be sexy. She just was. That’s remarkable.

Alina Popa rocking a sexy dress that shows off her best assets.

As I reflect upon the fact that the curtains were drawn back, it occurs to me that perhaps Muscle Angel wasn’t just “performing” for me. She was actually performing for the entire Universe. Of course, odds are nobody really saw her through the 45^th story window, but what if someone did? There’s the microscopic yet somewhat plausible chance that at least one lucky bloke happened to have been gazing out his window and caught a peek of Muscle Angel in all her glory. Wow, can you imagine how heart attack-inducing such a brief glimpse would be?

The biggest reason why watching her walk from one side of the room to the other with the curtains drawn back is The Most Beautiful Sight of My Life isn’t just the fact that the moonlight perfectly accentuated Muscle Angel’s flawless body. It wasn’t just her body. It was the confidence with which she paraded that body. She’s worked damn hard to achieve her physique. And nothing would get in the way of allowing her to show it off.

I may have been the only audience member in attendance at that particular moment. Or there could have been others that neither of us knew about. But having the curtains drawn back perhaps symbolically signified that Muscle Angel wanted the whole world to see her. It’s irrelevant whether anyone else other than me actually saw her. What matters is that if someone had, Muscle Angel would allow it and relish it. Being nude empowers her. And she refuses to hide that part of her identity.

Regardless, the way she walked communicated not just confidence, but a deeply held sense of self-respect. Not narcissism, but genuine self-respect. She isn’t embarrassed by who she is. There isn’t anything about her body or soul that she needs to hide. She wasn’t just showing off her nude body – she was showing off her bare soul. She was showing me who she is as a person. Her body is crucial to her identity as a female bodybuilder. It’s only fitting that showing it off to appreciative eyes would be the way she could best live it out.

Were my eyes appreciative? You better believe it, buddy. And did she have a body that could transcend its physical limitations and actually offer a candid mirror into her soul?

In a word, yes.

So I suppose it wasn’t just poetry in motion. It was her life’s story playing out on the global stage. Her biography embedded on her muscular flesh. I’m just blessed to have been able to witness it.

Please Don’t Be a Jerk

Who would want to be a jerk toward Margie Martin?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

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

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

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

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

Hm. Why would someone do this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Evening with a Beautiful Blonde Amazon

None of these photos are of Blonde Amazon herself, but they represent her in different ways. Beautiful legs, indeed!

A frequent request I receive from readers is to describe more of my experiences doing muscle worship sessions with female bodybuilders. My previous five-part retelling of my first ever session (nearly three years ago!) still garners a tremendous amount of page views to this day, so perhaps that’s telling me something.

In my estimation, I’ve done about 13 muscle worship sessions total in the past three years. I’ve seen the same FBB twice on two occasions, meaning I’ve met a total of 11 beautiful female bodybuilders. As expected, some sessions were better than others. Fortunately, I can say only one session was disappointing. It wasn’t because of anything major, but rather because the two of us didn’t quite connect. I don’t harbor any ill feelings toward this particular woman. She just wasn’t my cup of tea. No big deal.

It’s hard to say which one is my favorite, but I can say with confidence that the one experience I’m about to illustrate stands out above a lot of them. I’ve told her about my blog, so she could very well be reading this post as we speak! Hopefully I don’t get a stern e-mail from her complaining about anything I’ve written.

This experience happened last spring. No need to get more specific than that. We’ll call her “Blonde Amazon.” Once again, I’ll conceal her identity in order to protect her reputation. You can ask me all you want who she is, but I’ll just politely decline. You have been warned!

It all started where most muscle worship sessions start: wb270.com. Go check it out if you haven’t already. It’s not the most visually appealing website, but it gets the job done. I frequently check it to see who is planning to travel to my neck of the woods. Lo and behold, one day I see that Blonde Amazon is promising to come to the Pacific Northwest in the spring of 2015. Heck yeah! Like many FBBs who offer muscle worship sessions, I’ve known about Blonde Amazon for quite a while. She’s almost like a mini-celebrity to me.

Blonde Amazon and I had been exchanging e-mails for the past year. She originally planned to come to the Seattle area the year before, but had to cancel due to circumstances beyond her control. That’s understandable. Sometimes life gets in the way of doing business. I was a bit disappointed because I really looked forward to meeting a woman who is an Amazon in every sense of the word: Tall, strong, confident, and beautiful. Standing at a solid six feet tall, it’s not too often you see a woman of that stature who isn’t playing in the WNBA.

A year after her initial cancellation, I receive a message from her out of the blue telling me she’s planning to come to Seattle for real. Would I be interested in seeing her?

In a word, YES!

So we agree on a one hour sensual muscle worship session. Nothing too crazy or out-of-this-world. We establish a time to meet and exchange contact information. I wire her a deposit into her PayPal account and within hours she lets me know which hotel she will be staying at. And with that, we are all set to go. Monday at 9:00 p.m. I could hardly wait!

All weekend I did nothing but watch videos of her on the Internet and search for every last photo I could find. There isn’t much out there, but I saw enough to know what I was getting myself into. I’ve known about Blonde Amazon for several years, so it’s not like she was new to me. In fact, she was probably one of the first female bodybuilders I ever heard of, which added to her intrigue. She truly was a celebrity in my own mind. The general public may not know who she is, but as far as I was concerned, she was Marilyn Monroe.

What intrigued me most about Blonde Amazon was her elegance and striking beauty. She looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue magazine. She’s traditionally beautiful and would turn heads everywhere she goes. When I saw photos of her, I thought of her as a gorgeous, statuesque woman who happens to be muscular, not a muscular woman who coincidentally happens to have a pretty face. Blonde Amazon may not be famous in our mainstream pop culture, but if she had chosen a different profession (perhaps modeling or acting) instead of bodybuilding, I have no doubt she could have made it BIG.

From the moment I woke up that morning, I could hardly wait for 9:00 p.m. to arrive. I drove to work like usual. I sat through boring meetings like usual. I worked on my projects like usual. I made small chit chat with my co-workers like usual. I seemed calm on the surface. But underneath my heart raced a little faster and my brain was going off to weird places. Not a single person at my office knew what I was about to experience just a few hours later. But life can be funny at times. For all I know, maybe one of my co-workers was also planning to see Blonde Amazon later that evening! Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Thankfully, I was able to leave work early. I headed home, got a quick bite to eat, and sashayed to the gym for a brief workout. I try to always get a quick workout in before doing a session because it allows me to burn off some steam and “get my juices flowing” beforehand. I don’t recall what I actually did at the gym, but that doesn’t matter. I showered, got dressed, dropped off my stinky gym clothes at my apartment, checked my e-mail for any emergency messages from her (there weren’t any) and drove off to her hotel.

The drive at 7:45 p.m. was pleasantly smooth. Almost no major traffic hurdles. By then rush hour had ended, so it was practically smooth sailing. I had some difficulties finding the place because the hotel was buried behind a large business complex. A very strange place for a hotel, but that’s the way it was. The hotel wasn’t a traditional looking hotel, but instead resembled a small upper class gated community (minus the gate). I parked my car in the back area away from the other cars in order to draw less attention to myself.

I turned off the ignition and took a deep breath.

Whew.

After several moments, I walked out and tried to find her exact unit. It took me a while because the hotel was split up into four or five different buildings. Strangely enough, I had inadvertently parked my vehicle nearly in front of her room. It must have been divine intervention, obviously. I finally saw which unit she was staying in and checked my phone for the time.

8:30. Damn. I have thirty minutes until I can go knock on her door!

I returned to my car and turned on the radio. Nothing good was on. Oh well. All I need to do is pass the time before I can approach her room. Should I play a game on my phone? Nah, I don’t want to drain the battery before the night is over.

Some random Adele song plays. Then something by Walk the Moon. Finally, it’s 8:50 p.m. I know I said I had thirty minutes until I can knock on her door, but being ten minutes early never hurt anyone. After all, it’s better to be early than late.

So I get out of my car, lock it and walk toward her room. I take in a deep breath and experience the fresh spring air. Nothing about it tickles my fancy. I approach her door and notice she’s drawn the curtains over the front window. Obviously, she wants privacy. I don’t blame her one bit. I would want my privacy, too! I look around to see if anyone is watching me. No one is in sight. It’s a bit eerie, but that’s the way it is. I knock on the door and wait. The wait doesn’t last long. The door opens and I immediately have to tilt my head upward.

Whoa. She’s every bit the six feet tall she claims to be! She says “hi” and invites me inside. I enthusiastically step through the door. I close it behind me and allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. I look around and see a simple room that offers exactly what you’d expect: a bed, a small table, an old non-HD square television, a cute little kitchenette (with a modest refrigerator), mass produced artwork on the walls and a bathroom with a shower. You wouldn’t want to live here, but it’s not bad if you’re just passing through town.

I take off my shoes and place my backpack on the floor. The first thing we do is exchange her payment. It’s better to get the money stuff out of the way early so we can just relax and get things going with that out of the way. I give her an envelope full of cash and she quickly puts it in her luggage. Good. Now we can actually begin.

We sit down on the edge of the bed and chat to start off the evening. She talks about her kids and how they’re growing up faster than she’d like. It’s not often FBBs are open to speaking about their families, but Blonde Amazon is obviously an exception. I learned a while back not to ask too many questions about boyfriends, husbands, parents and kids. It’s best to leave family matters out of a muscle worship session. But I was pleasantly surprised that Blonde Amazon was willing to open up about her personal life to a complete stranger like me.

I find out she works in the healthcare industry as a personal caretaker. I tell her that I work at a nonprofit organization that serves the local homeless population. While our businesses are very different, we do share one thing in common: we help people. On that level, we develop a sense of mutual respect.

We chat for a bit about her competitive history and previous sessions I’ve done. Unexpectedly, she knows a few of the female bodybuilders I’ve seen in the past. It’s a small world, indeed. After about 15 or so minutes, we begin the actual sensual session. I stand up and remove all my clothes except for my underwear. I tuck it next to my backpack. Wearing a sexy black negligee, she stands up and poses for me. She isn’t as muscular as a pro bodybuilder, but she’s fit, athletic and looks fantastic. I approach her and feel her beautiful arms. She squeezes her biceps and I try to cup it in my hands. Not surprisingly, my fingers fail to contain her hard mounds of muscle. She laughs and I start to laugh with her.

I then realize that she’s a lot more muscular than I initially gave her credit for. That might be a problem with tall women. She has an impressive amount of muscle mass, but her long frame stretches it out further than it would on a shorter woman. So she is a bodybuilder. It’s just that her height makes it a little less obvious. Blonde Amazon probably has just as much muscle mass as a 5’2” female bodybuilder, but her tall body makes it harder to notice any “definition.”

I get down on my knees and feel her legs. Her long, athletic legs nearly make my heart stop mid-beat. Wow! Never in my life have I ever felt legs as sleek and sensual as hers. I probably spent most of my time feeling up her beautiful long legs. She must have noticed my affinity for her gams because she lifted one of her feet to accentuate her muscular calf. Oh baby! I could die at that moment and be a happy man for eternity. Alas, my faculties continued to operate so I could move on to her upper body.

Her shapely shoulders perfectly complement her curvy figure. Blonde Amazon’s skin feels as smooth as velvet. The texture of her body is music to my fingers. I give her a generous back massage as we continue to talk about our lives. She describes one of her caretaker clients and how compassionate she is toward him. She’s modest, of course, but I could gather that she genuinely cares about her job and the individuals she works with every day. She describes how challenging it is to meet his unique needs. I listen intently. I struggle to imagine what it’d be like to work in a profession like that. I’m thankful that there are empathetic people like Blonde Amazon who do.

At some point during the evening, she takes off the negligee and reveals her lingerie. I cannot remember exactly when, but it was a welcomed choice on her part. As I caress her neck, chest and tummy, she kindly removes her bra and tosses it to the ground. I take advantage of this and feel her gorgeous round breasts. Blonde Amazon is one elegant lady, no doubt about it! I’m serious when I say that she belongs on the front cover of a fashion magazine. Her face is as beautiful as a supermodel’s. No matter her age, she’ll always be unbelievably gorgeous. If there are people out there who are, for whatever reason, disgusted by female bodybuilders, Blonde Amazon will definitely challenge their preconceptions. She’s unquestionably feminine, curvaceous and sophisticated. What’s there not to like about that?

A rounded bottom that you cannot help but touch.

Once we get to the second half of our appointment, we begin to snuggle on the bed. My arousal becomes evident underneath my underwear. Blonde Amazon chooses not to remove her panties and I respect this boundary. Although, we did get on the subject of female anatomy and she briefly pulled down her panties to show me her clitoris. It’s as beautiful as you’d expect. Long and thick, her lady endowment is striking for both its size and natural appearance. She didn’t let me touch it, so I could only look at it in awe. My jaw didn’t exactly drop to the floor, but it might as well have. Anytime I can regard upon a female bodybuilder’s genitalia is a treat for my eyes that I must treasure dearly.

Finally, I look at the clock sitting on a bedside table and see we have approximately 10 minutes left. I think I know what’s about to come next. Like flipping a light switch, we share a simple kiss and Blonde Amazon turns on her “sexy” side with remarkable ease. I remove my underwear and throw it across the room. Who cares where it falls? After tickling my scrotum and giving me a few initial strokes, Blonde Amazon searches for her bottle of lotion and applies a small amount on the palm of her hand. Her captivating blue eyes meet mine. I get another close look at her flawless face. I swear, I cannot believe why she isn’t a famous worldwide celebrity! What gives?

I lay on my back and she slides between my legs. My penis is throbbing at this point and could explode just from a single touch. Thankfully, my “manliness” instincts kick in and I last much longer than that.

Blonde Amazon wraps her callused fingers around my erect manhood and strokes up and down with deliberate patience. There’s no rush. No hurry. She’s obviously not a clock-watcher. I reach over and touch her breasts. The tips of my fingers playfully pinch her erect nipples. I cup her mammaries and experience their fullness. As she continues to caress my penis, I notice something extraordinary. She does an incredible job of “acting” like we were having sex. Her breathing becomes heavy. Her eyes close. She looks up to the Heavens and licks her lips. She even starts to moan and groan as if we were passionately making love. We weren’t, obviously, but the expressions on her face were as hot as I’d ever seen in my life.

This woman knows how to provide a killer sensual session. She didn’t just give a hand job. She pretended like we were having wild, animalistic sex. I didn’t feel like a “john” receiving a run-of-the-mill sexual service from a strange woman. I felt like a “Man” (with a capital “M”) who was confidently making love to a gorgeous supermodel. Looking into her eyes, I felt like we were lovers with an illustrious history together. I felt like we were meant to be together. I realize this is nothing but “make-believe,” but it’s the little things like that that count in a major way.

I feel a surge of energy building up within my body. Blonde Amazon’s fake orgasm coincides with my own, as I eventually climax and ejaculate all over my stomach. My spasms go on for what seems like forever. I’m out of breath. She stops stroking my penis and allows it to deflate. I open my eyes and look at the mess I made. Blonde Amazon goes to the bathroom and returns with a clean white towel. I clean myself off. She then giggles and makes an astute observation about yours truly:

“You can shoot!”

Indeed, I can!

I always assumed this was how all guys were, but when I get excited (I mean, really excited), I can spew out my semen like a porn star. This is probably more about me than you care to know, but too bad! Blonde Amazon comments to me that she loves watching men squirt long distances. Granted, I didn’t exactly shoot out across the room and into the adjacent parking lot, but I guess what I demonstrated to her piqued her interest. Score one for me!

I joke that I should star in a porno one day. She laughs and says she’d love to watch it. She reiterates her fascination with men who can powerfully ejaculate. I guess she gets bored watching guys ooze out their seed like an elderly turtle.

She invites me to take a shower and I accept her offer. After a short rinse off, I dry myself, use the toilet and change back into my clothes. By now she’d put back on her sexy black negligee. I don’t know if she’s seeing another client that night, but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to kick me to the curb. As I always do, I request that I take a picture of her. She obliges. I take two with my phone: one serious, the other more silly. The silly one still makes me laugh to the present day. We hug. She promises to return back to the Seattle area as soon as she practically can. I tell her that I’ll always think about the gentleman with special needs that she takes care of. She also wishes him well and hopes he’ll be able to live a happy life.

Blonde Amazon wore a sexy black negligee just like the one being worn by Eva Longoria.

I become bold and tell her about my blog. She says she’ll try to read my writing when she finds the time. Given her hectic schedule, I highly doubt she’ll ever have a spare moment to see what yours truly is up to on the Internet. I promise her I’d send her the link to my website in an e-mail message. She once again agrees to check it out. Swoon!

We share one final kiss (I have to almost stand on my toes to reach up to her lips!) and I leave her room. I’m one happy and satisfied man. As I drive back home, I come to the conclusion that Blonde Amazon is a one-of-a-kind woman who’s inner beauty radiates brighter than her outer beauty. It’s one thing to be physically gorgeous. It’s another thing to be a gracious and hardworking mother who deeply cares for the well-being of the people around her. It takes a special kind of soul to do the work she does on a daily basis. My mom used to do work similar and she got burnt out real quickly. So the fact that she persists with her job is a testament to her fortitude, emotional strength and considerate temperament.

She’s a true one-in-a-billion. Perhaps even more unique than that. Actually, yes, way more unique than that!

When I get home I e-mail her the link to my blog. Within a week, I receive a reply message from her saying she loves my writing (especially, oddly enough, my forays into erotic fiction)! Holy smokes! Add Blonde Amazon to my prestigious list of faithful readers. I hope she reads this particular post and realizes who I’m writing about. Given her intelligence and sharp insight, I don’t doubt for a moment she knew who I was talking about from the get-go.

I’m being 100 percent honest when I say I still think about the guy she cares for. I don’t know if she’s still one of her clients, but he’s quite disabled and needs plenty of caring. I’m sure his family is eternally grateful for Blonde Amazon for being the one who looks out for him.

Thank you, Blonde Amazon. Our paths haven’t crossed since that marvelous evening we spent together last spring. I don’t think she’s been over here since. If she ever decides to return to the Pacific Northwest, you can bet your life’s savings I’ll be first in line to set up another appointment with her!

But until that day arrives, all I can say is this:

Thank you, Blonde Amazon. Thank you for being you.

Everything You Wanted to Know about Muscle Worship but Were Afraid to Ask

Roxie Rain worshiping Lynn McCrossin. Oh, yeah!

You may have heard about it somewhere online. Maybe it was a chat forum. Perhaps it was on someone’s blog. Or maybe you read about it on Wikipedia or saw a documentary about it on YouTube.

Wherever you first heard of it, you probably have a lot of questions about it.

Who does this sort of thing? Why? What happens during it? How often does this happen? Who started it?

This topic would be “muscle worship.” You may have also heard about it referred to as a “session.” Regardless, you probably have a lot of questions about what happens during a muscle worship session, who does this sort of thing and why on Earth a female bodybuilder would want to offer these bizarre services.

Luckily for you, I’m about to enlighten you about what this is all about.

Muscle worship, essentially, is when a participant is allowed to touch, caress, fondle, rub and praise the muscles of a session provider. This is set up usually in a hotel room (for the sake of safety for both parties) for a set fee. The conditions of the session are arranged beforehand and agreed upon by both parties prior to the meeting.

Usually the muscle worship provider is a male or female bodybuilder, athlete, wrestler or someone who takes their lifting time at the gym seriously. Male bodybuilders can have female clients who are attracted to muscular men as well as gay male clients who love the same thing. Likewise, female bodybuilders can also host both male and female clients (although from what I’ve heard, most of their clients are men).

Because bodybuilding isn’t a very lucrative sport, many of these athletes need additional income to finance their lifestyle. Professional bodybuilders have to go through a lot to achieve their desired physique. It requires gym memberships (sometimes multiple gym memberships – depending on personal preference, availability of certain trainers and equipment, travel schedules and other living conditions), food, dietary supplements, drugs (though not everyone takes drugs), personal training fees, travel costs, marketing/advertising efforts and other expenses related to the business.

It should be obvious to anyone that professional bodybuilders lead an unorthodox life which requires taking unorthodox measures to fully live this life. Working part-time as a muscle worship provider is one of those measures.

Some bodybuilders travel from city to city to meet clients. Others just work locally. Many choose to never do these sessions at all. Everyone has to do what they got to do to survive. Popular bodybuilders often develop a following (that sometimes stretches internationally) of dedicated fans who schedule muscle worship sessions with them periodically. Sometimes returning clients whom the bodybuilders particularly like get discounts and “extra” services with each subsequent meeting.

Who wouldn't want to touch the muscles of Fanny Palou? — Who wouldn’t want to touch the muscles of Fanny Palou?

Personally, so far I’ve participated in four muscle worship sessions with four different female bodybuilders. Three were travelling into town and one was local. To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about male bodybuilders and the sessions they provide, so my perspective here is limited to the female side of things. What I can tell you is that for anyone out there who loves strong women and has a fervent interest in meeting one of them in an intimate setting, I highly recommend you seek out a female bodybuilder who is coming to your area and schedule a session with her whenever you get the chance.

The pricing varies. Some women charge as little as $200 for an hour-long session and as high as $600. A session could last 30 minutes if that is the most you are able to afford. Others could last three hours or even the whole day if you want to make this more of a “date” instead of a simple appointment. Payment usually happens in person and many experienced muscle worship providers will require a deposit wired electronically to their bank account in advance.

There are websites that list the travel schedules of female bodybuilders, including wb270.com and sessiongirls.com. Many times the women list their schedules directly on their personal websites or Facebook pages. Finding out who is coming to your town or who already lives in your town isn’t terribly difficult if you know where to search.

As far as what goes on during a session, as mentioned before the conditions of the session should be discussed and agreed upon ahead of time, preferably before the deposit is given. Usually an FBB will at the very minimum wear a posing suit or bikini. For an extra charge, many will be willing to be either topless or completely nude. Sometimes the FBB will ask you what you want her to wear – whether it’s lingerie, a bathing suit or her birthday suit.

Most of the time the session will take place at a hotel room. For the sake of her own personal safety, an FBB doesn’t want to make “home visits” out of fear of not knowing the person they’re doing this session with. I don’t need to tell you that there are a lot of creepy and dangerous people out there. A hotel room is private, “neutral” and it’s an environment she can control.

Let’s take my first ever muscle worship session as an example. I contacted her via e-mail after seeing she was travelling to my city on wb270.com. After exchanging several e-mails, we decided on a one hour fully nude muscle worship session. She informed me she was staying at a motel in my city (conveniently for me, it was only a few miles away from my apartment). She also agreed to give me a hand job at the end of the session. I paid her an $80 deposit through her PayPal account and was given her phone number so I could text her 15 or so minutes prior to the session to find out which room she was staying in.

The chiseled physique of Heather Armbrust.

Now, this is where things get, ahem, interesting. This is probably the one aspect about muscle worship that most people are curious to learn: What types of sexual activities happen during a session?

Let’s back up for a moment and address the elephant in the room:

Are muscle worship providers prostitutes?

It’s a valid question. On the surface, it does certainly seem like what an FBB does with her clients resembles prostitution. The clients are paying money for services that are very sensual in nature. Sometimes actual sexual activity is performed. To be fair, if muscle worship is considered a form of prostitution, it definitely deserves to be in a subcategory of its own. It’s so different from the stereotypical image we get of a prostitute visiting her “john” that “erotic session” seems to be a more accurate label.

Of course, there’s something to be said about the word “prostitution” unto itself. It’s a very politically and socially charged word that brings about many connotations; both positive and negative (though mostly negative). As a culture, we think of prostitution as a seedy, dirty business between loose whores and desperately lonely men. This is unfair in many cases. Now, I’m not about to go on some pro-prostitution rant, because I will admit I’m not really informed enough to make an intelligent analysis on the subject. What I will say is that muscle worship is in fact a form of prostitution. You can’t deny it from a dictionary definition perspective. It involves someone using their body for money to perform acts of a sexual nature. That fits the objective description of “prostitution” as far as I can tell.

But understandably, a lot of people will be uncomfortable with this classification. Both FBBs and the men (and women) who love them. Trust me, I’m one of them. I love strong women so very much. I admire them enough to have started this blog. I’m a big enough fan of them that I’ve paid a handsome portion of my hard-earned dollars toward arranging muscle worship sessions with them.

I completely understand the taboo nature of the word “prostitute.” I understand how stigmatized this phenomena is in our culture and other cultures. I understand how difficult it must be to work in a profession where people out there either hate you for it or are disgusted by you for willing to participate in it. I can empathize with those (both the clients and the providers) who feel ashamed to be a part of it.

I get that. I get that this is why most FBBs refuse to call themselves prostitutes and vehemently deny their services fall into that category. I’m willing to bet many FBBs wish they didn’t have to engage in these sorts of activities. Can you imagine how difficult it must be to travel across the country (and world) and be away from your friends and family for extended periods of time just so you can meet complete strangers under secretive circumstances? I’m sure many of these women hate doing sessions. I’m sure many of them would quit – or at the very least downsize their involvement – if they had the adequate financial resources available to them.

Oooooh, Amber Deluca getting frisky with Victoria Dominguez. Yikes!

Sadly, professional bodybuilding doesn’t make money. Only the elite competitors earn enough cash to call it a career. Endorsement deals, media exposure and prize money doesn’t exactly fall from the sky.

Of course, I can’t speak for all FBBs. I’m sure there are plenty out there who genuinely love doing sessions and meeting their clients. I’m sure there are lots of session providers who are proud of their work and are not ashamed of their on-the-side profession. But for those who are, or at least hold a certain degree of reservation for what they’re doing, I get why the label “prostitute” can hurt so much.

The woman I met for my first ever session is a mother whose daughter is only a few years younger than me. I met another who is married and another who has a long-term boyfriend back home. Can you imagine if you Googled your mother’s name and labels such as “whore,” “slut” and “skank” prominently came up? I’d be embarrassed beyond belief. Can you imagine being a husband and having to cope with the idea of your beloved wife pleasuring other men a whole ocean away from you? I can’t wrap my mind around that.

But I don’t want to get too melodramatic. I just thought it was appropriate to address the question many of you might be asking. Personally, when I had my four sessions, I never for one moment thought of the women I was meeting as prostitutes. I treated them kindly and with deep respect. I treated them like human beings, not living breathing sex toys. Of course, I’d treat a traditional prostitute the same way, but it never crossed my mind to treat these ladies as if they were any different from anybody else.

If anything, I treated them with more respect. I respect them for doing what they love regardless of the consequences. I respect them for doing something so socially unconventional and for enduring the weird stares, hurtful comments and awkward relationships it must create. If this is what they love doing, who cares what other people think? What others think about you is inconsequential.

But returning to the original question, what types of activities (both sexual and nonsexual) are offered during a muscle worship session? The possibilities are wide in range. This list is by no means complete or exhaustive:

Muscle worship
Wrestling (both competitive, semi-competitive and fantasy)
Role playing
Posing
Domination and submission
Lift and carry
Arm wrestling
Scissor holds
Face sitting, belly punching, boxing, smothering and other grappling/competitive activities
Fetish scenarios
BDSM activities (Bondage, Discipline, Sadism and Masochism)
Oiling
Sensual massage
Sexual acts (blow jobs, cunnilingus, hand jobs, dry humping, kissing and vaginal sex)

Typically, the furthest sexual activity an FBB will allow is giving her client a hand job at the end (also known as a “happy ending” for those of you unfamiliar with the euphemism). Anything beyond that either is never on the table or comes at a very steep cost. Sometimes actual sex (or “full service”) is only reserved for repeat customers because the FBB knows the person and presumably feels comfortable around them.

Many times, no sexual activity is allowed. Not everyone is willing to go that far. Nor should any session provider feel like they have to in order to stay “in business.” As with anything, whatever is mutually agreed upon prior to the session is fair game.

But the real reason why clients seek out these sessions is for the muscle worship aspect. Let’s discuss this a little bit more.

“Worship” isn’t necessarily to be interpreted literally. A client won’t deify the muscles of the session provider as if they were God or Allah incarnate. It’s “worship” in a more sensual, playful way. The men who participate in these sessions obviously share a fetish for female muscle. Just look up the words “sthenolagnia” and “cratolagnia” if you need a refresher.

Let’s put it this way: Strong women with big muscles are rare. Not everyone’s wife or girlfriend possesses the ripped, bulging muscles of Alina Popa. Not every lady out there can sport a chiseled physique like Victoria Dominguez. Women who look like Lisa Cross, Lauren Powers and Yvette Bova mostly exist in our wildest dreams.

So, the only way men can live out their fantasies is to participate in these sessions. Watching videos on the Internet or chatting with an FBB through her webcam only goes so far. Sometimes you need to experience the “real thing.” And muscle worship sessions are about as real as you can get.

“Worship” usually means feeling her body and touching her muscles to your heart’s delight. Sometimes you might pretend to worship her as if she was an actual Goddess, but role-playing isn’t always a factor here. The client may heap endless verbal praise onto her. He may treat her like a divine figure. But mostly, he just wants to feel those big beautiful muscles in his hands. He wants the tactile experience of being able to engage in his personal fetishistic fantasies.

Fetishism is really what this all boils down to. A fetish is defined as “any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.” These men fetishize the muscles of these women. It’s as simple as that. For whatever reason – her strength, muscles, bulk, size and power really turns you on. It turns you on to the point that you must experience it for yourself up close and personal even if it comes at a significant financial cost. But for anyone with a strong fetish for something, it’s worth every penny.

In a strange way, a muscle worship session is nothing more than a business transaction. You are paying someone for particular services. These services are usually done tax-free (meaning the government and the IRS will have no knowledge that these sorts of shenanigans are happening), but business is business no matter how it transpires. Everyone has to do what they got to do to get by, am I right?

After a session comes to an end, the client will try to leave the venue as discreetly as possible. If the hotel staff gets suspicious that possible illegal activity is happening at their establishment, the FBB could get in trouble. No one wants that to happen. So in light of that, here is a list of important protocol every client should keep in mind when setting up a muscle worship session:

Be discreet: Because of the awkward nature of these sessions, it is important that everyone respects the privacy and anonymity of the other person. Would you want your boss or grandmother to know that you paid a woman $350 to touch her body? Yeah, probably not! So keep in mind the importance of not leaving a paper trail or compromising her identity if she wishes to remain inconspicuous. She may have kids, parents, relatives, co-workers, church friends and neighbors from whom she wants to keep her extracurricular activities a secret. This is why both parties must be discreet.
Be respectful of each other’s boundaries: Make sure you agree on everything that is to happen at this muscle worship session beforehand. Never assume what’s on the table and what’s not. She may not want to do certain things with you. Respect those boundaries and don’t push your luck. Never do anything drastic before requesting permission. In fact, when in doubt, ask her. Ask her what you want from her. Ask her what is okay and what isn’t. This way, there won’t be any ambiguity going on. Preferably, ask her ahead of time so you can prevent being disappointed after the session ends.
Keep open lines of communication flowing: In addition to always asking for what you want, make sure you maintain an open line of communication so you don’t get important details like hotel information or payment policies mixed up. You never want miscommunication to ruin your session. Remember, she has a stake in this too. She doesn’t want to disappoint. Help her help you.
Treat her like a lady: Don’t treat her like a piece of meat whose only purpose is to serve your every whim. Don’t be a jerk. Respect her just as you would show respect to your mother. Treat her like a lady. She’s risking quite a lot to offer these sessions. She’s making sacrifices that deep down inside she might not want to make. So make it worth her while. Don’t demonstrate douchebag behavior. No one wants any of that nonsense.
Don’t flake out: Yes, unexpected scheduling conflicts do occasionally happen. But don’t ever flake out on an appointment. These women travel thousands of miles to come to your city. Don’t promise her you’d show up for your 5:00 p.m. appointment only for you to completely blow her off. The cost of flying from airport to airport and booking hotel rooms is really expensive. Don’t flake out unless you have a very good excuse. And if you do, please e-mail, call or text her if something unexpected does unfortunately come up.
Tell her what you want so that you can have the best session experience possible: In case you need a reminder, she wants to give you a good time. Very rarely does a session provider not care if you have a splendid time or not. They want to fulfill your fantasies and have you begging for more. This is good for business and ensures she can make a handsome buck in the process. This goes along the lines of constantly communicating with each other. Talk to her about what will make your experience the best it can be. Don’t shy away from the moment. Live a little!

After a session is over, many guys will write reviews on popular websites like saradas.org. Some FBBs might appreciate you sending them kind e-mails afterward so that she can post them on her website or on session directories. As always, if the FBB chooses to use a fake name, don’t “out” her on the Internet. That’s a big no-no. Anything written on a chat forum or blog can be read by millions of people. Don’t be “that guy.” If she doesn’t want her true identity revealed, don’t reveal it!

Even if you don’t know for sure if she doesn’t want her identity revealed, be on the safe side and keep things under wraps. After all, these sessions are very private in nature and should remain private. There’s no need for the entire world to know what happened during that one hour in that hotel room. You know…what happens in Vegas…

If everything turns out well and a year or two later she returns back to your city, you can set up another session with her! And who knows? She may decide to offer a little “extra” for her faithful clients.

My new female muscle crush: Lindsay Mulinazzi.

Or she may not offer anything extra. Never feel entitled to anything other than what you two agree upon beforehand. Make sure she consents to everything. Never assume anything. Never leave anything unspoken that should be brought to light.

In other words, use common sense. That can’t be too hard, hm?

Whew. That’s a lot to cover. And I never even got into things like wrestling or BDSM. I’ve personally never done those sorts of things before, so my expertise on these subjects is admittedly limited. What I am reasonably knowledgeable about is traditional muscle worship. Trust me, it’s a very glorious world once you get into it!

Muscle worship is fun. It’s meant to be fun. It’s erotic fun, but it’s fun nevertheless. So have fun when you do it. Come with a smile. Prepare to enjoy yourself. Yes, it’ll be nerve-wracking right before it starts, but once things get going the butterflies in your stomach will go away.

I will admit that this article isn’t exhaustive about describing the world of female muscle worship sessions. Generally speaking, people will use the acronym “YMMV” to describe their experiences. This stands for “your mileage may vary.” This means every session provider is different and will be different depending on who you are and what you ask for. I can’t give you hard and fast rules. You have to see for yourself.

One last note before I end this lengthy article. As strange, odd, weird, peculiar, atypical and controversial as the concept of muscle worship may appear, at the end of the day there’s really nothing bizarre about it. Some men find muscular women attractive. Because muscular women are rare in our society, the only way for these men to enjoy this particular fetish is to engage in these sessions. That’s all there is to it. Certainly, these sessions are unorthodox in nature, but the reasons they happen are very simple.

Can I measure the beautiful biceps of Gina Davis?

We have interests and needs that we want fulfilled. If there are people out there who are willing to fulfill these needs, what’s the harm? No one is being forced to do this. Everyone on planet Earth has needs. You can’t escape that fact. So don’t think of muscle worship as being dirty, exploitative, deviant or immoral. It’s a simple business transaction between two consenting adults.

Yes, this transaction is erotic in nature, but that shouldn’t muddy the waters. Eroticism can be a beautiful thing. No one should be punished for living out their fantasies as long as no one gets hurt in the process. Hopefully there won’t be too much disagreement over this notion.

So there you have it. Everything (or mostly everything!) you wanted to know about muscle worship but were afraid to ask. This is just a starter. A primer. A summary. There is a whole world out there that even I am not totally familiar with. I am no expert. I’m just someone who operates a humble blog out here in the WordPress blogosphere.

Try for yourself what muscle worship is like if you’re truly curious. And guess what? You might be able to answer all these questions on your own!

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

Muscle beauty Flavia Crisos. As you know, none of the women featured in this post is GFBB. Her identity will always remain a secret.

The moment I realize I had forgotten to take a picture of her, I quickly shoot GFBB a text asking her if she’d be willing to send me a photo of herself.

Thoughts started to flood through my mind: Is this a creepy request? Would she be afraid I’d post this on Facebook or somewhere else and people would see it? Is she protective over her image and would refuse? Would she interpret this request as me bothering her (and perhaps becoming obsessed with her)? Will she think I’m being creepy?

Time passes. I hear nothing from her for a long time. Maybe she’s going to sleep. Maybe she’s ignoring me. Maybe I crossed a line by sending her this text…

Finally, GFBB responds. She says she fell asleep before I texted her. Ah ha! This is her exact message:

Sorry fell asleep . I will send u a pic and its not creepy But that’s because it’s u asking

Whew! That solves that mystery. I knew we developed a positively rapport. I guess all my fretting was all for naught.

So off to bed I went. I brushed my teeth, took a shower, checked my email one more time and finally crashed into a peaceful slumber. Ah, bliss. My life resumed as normal afterward. I went to work the next day. That evening, GFBB sends me a text at 8:19 p.m. PST with the photo I had requested. It appears to have been taken at a hotel room (perhaps by one of her clients). It wasn’t the highest quality picture, but since receiving it I’ve treasured it as it were a precious family heirloom.

If I’m bored and have nothing else to do (usually when I’m at the train station waiting to get home from work), I’ll occasionally get out my phone and look at her photo. Then all the memories of our 75 minutes together would start flooding back.

Sentimental value, perhaps? Yeah, without a doubt!

All joking aside, life went on as it always did. I enjoyed a restful weekend. And come Monday, it was back to the normal grind. No more female bodybuilders, muscle worship sessions or playful text conversations with strong beautiful women for me for a while. I had my fun. Now it was time to see what came next.

Life can be full of unexpected adventures, n’est-ce pas?

***

So now I take you to the present day. At the time of this blog post’s publication, it is May 23, 2014. My fateful session (or is it “appointment?”) with GFBB was on May 23, 2013. Exactly one year ago today.

Wow. One year ago when I had my session with GFBB. While it does feel like a year ago, it’s funny how certain specific moments – even the trivial ones – are as sharp in my memory as ever before.

The first time I looked at her. When we sat down to chat. When the session finally started. When I got to kiss her. When she sent me the text with her photo attached to it.

I can remember the exact spot where I was when I opened that text. It’s funny how innocuous details like that stay with you forever after everything else more “important” passes on. Perhaps this is our brain’s way of telling us what’s really important in our lives.

Have I changed at all as a person as a result of this amazing muscle worship session with an equally amazing lady? The truth is, not really. I have changed a bit, but perhaps not as dramatically as I’d like to think. It is true that I’ve become bolder in pursuing adventures and opportunities that benefit me. It is true that I’ve had muscle worship sessions with three other FBBs (while I’ve enjoyed all of them, GFBB still holds a special place in my heart). It is true that my eyes have been opened to a whole other world I never knew before.

But, at the end of the day, I’m still the same person I was the moment before I knocked on her hotel door 365 days ago. In the past year, I’ve never returned to the parking lot of the hotel we met at; even though it’s a mere five minutes away from my apartment. There’s something special about your “first time” that you want to remain special. It wouldn’t feel right to return back there, even for sentimental purposes.

Speaking of sentimentality, that’s probably how I’ll always remember the 75 greatest minutes of my life. Was it truly the greatest hour and fifteen minutes of my time here on Earth? Eh, who knows…but that’s not the point. My feelings, thoughts and unorthodox “friendship” I developed with GFBB will always be a sweet dream that I’ll recount for many years moving forward. That’s valuable unto itself.

I’m still a fairly shy person. I still haven’t had much luck when it comes to women and romance. I’m still looking for full-time employment, although I’m reasonably getting by just fine working at two part-time jobs.

Who wouldn't want to touch the muscles of Monica Martin? — Who wouldn’t want to touch the muscles of Monica Martin?

I’m still Ryan Takahashi. That part hasn’t changed. I’m still me.

But, I’m not the same person I was leading up to 7 p.m. on 5/23/2013. Yes, I realize I’m contradicting myself, but bear with me for a moment. I may still be myself, but something tangibly is different. My muscle worship session with GFBB was, to be honest, one of the first times I’d ever done anything really selfish in my whole life. I paid $360 on something that was purely for me…and nobody else.

It was selfish. It was hedonistic. It was a “treat” I gave myself as a reward for being…well, me.

I deserve the opportunity to express my sexuality, aren’t I? I’m allowed to touch the beautiful muscles of a strong, gorgeous woman if we both consent to the circumstances? Of course!

Later on I will write a blog post exclusively about the concept of muscle worship itself, so I will delve further into this particular social phenomenon at a later date. But for this Epilogue, all I can say is this:

I love female muscle. I love strong women. And I can honestly say that reality definitely matches up with fantasy when it comes to experiencing female muscle up close and personal.

GFBB is a great lady. We briefly exchanged emails months later when she randomly discovered my blog and asked me about it (“Guilty as charged!”). But that’s the extent of our post-session communication. We’ve never spoken again. She hasn’t come back to Seattle since. I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to see her again.

If I do, great. If I don’t, well, that’s the way things are. No one ever knows how life will sort itself out. Perhaps our paths will cross again. Or perhaps not. But regardless, I’ll always have my memories. Sweet, sweet memories:

The giddiness of emailing with her.

The nervousness I felt during the week leading up to my session.

The anticipation of waiting in the parking lot.

The deep breath I took before I knocked on her door.

My heart stopping when I first laid eyes on her.

The pleasantness of chatting with her and getting to know her.

The awkwardness of getting started with the session.

The sensual pleasure I experienced during those 75 minutes.

The elation I felt immediately after our session came to a close.

The romanticized maudlin feelings I feel whenever I look at that grainy cell phone picture of her.

All of it. I love reflecting on all of it. I don’t think any future muscle worship session will ever come close to surpassing what I experienced one year ago today. That’s not a negative reflection on all the other FBB out there. No, instead it’s a reflection on my magical “first time” and how that experience can never be replicated. Nor should it ever be replicated. The fact it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience makes it that much sweeter.

If I had to summarize the whole experience in one single word, it would be this:

Damn.

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

I mean, HOT DAMN.

“Come on in,” she says to me.

I immediately obliged, closing the door gently behind me. I looked around and saw the room was dimly lit. Music played from an iPod in the background. It was some pop song that I can’t recall at the moment.

GFBB looked great, but different than I expected. But to be truthful, I had no idea what to expect. Would she be as hard and muscular as she was in her competition days? Or would she be a shadow of her former self, perhaps maybe slightly overweight?

My questions were answered the moment I laid eyes on her.

She wore a tight blue dress that left very little to the imagination. Proudly showing off her ample bosom and allowing her legs plenty of room to breathe, she looked beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Her body was curvy and toned, not ripped or hypermuscular as a competitive bodybuilder (I might have just invented the word ‘hypermuscular”). She was a few inches shorter than me, 5’4” as it indicates in her biography on AMG-Lite. She was bountiful in many parts of her body; including her chest, back, legs and arms. She looked like a woman who took care of herself at the gym, though not necessarily in the obsessive-compulsive manner of a professional bodybuilder. Her figure would definitely turn heads – not in an “Oh my God she’s so freakish” kind of way, but rather in a “Wow, she looks great!” sort of way.

Let me pause momentarily. Usually, guys who regularly schedule sessions with FBBs would be disappointed by this. Some folks truly expect their FBBs to look ripped, huge and ready to compete in the Ms. Olympia contest. Clearly, GFBB did not fit in this category. But I didn’t mind at all. While her figure wasn’t exceptionally muscular, she still looked beautiful nevertheless. I had nothing to complain about.

If I can make an analogy, it would be like this: Imagine meeting your favorite baseball or basketball player for the first time. You ask for his autograph or for him to take a picture with you. Now imagine you grew up rooting for this player and you consider him to be your childhood hero. A legend from your youth. Now imagine you’re meeting this famous athlete later in his career. He’s not nearly as great as he once was and his production on the field/court isn’t nearly up to the standards he held himself to when he was in the prime of his career. Regardless, you still feel amazed to meet your childhood hero up close. Yes, you realize he’s past his prime, but you still respect him and his body of work. You still feel giddy inside when you shake his hand and he gives you his signed jersey.

Meeting GFBB was sort of like that. I knew she wouldn’t look like she did when she was in the prime of her bodybuilding career, but that didn’t bother me one bit. Meeting her was still a great honor and a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life. Was I disheartened when I saw she didn’t have the bulging muscles that I’ve seen in countless photos and videos?

Hell no!

Returning to my adventure, she led me inside and told me to get comfortable. I took off my shoes and put my backpack next to a chair. We sat down. I sat on a comfortable chair and she sat on the bed. I could not stop staring at her legs! (Confession: I’m a leg guy) She sat cross legged to hide whatever was happening between her gorgeous thighs. I felt my manhood start to rumble. God, I can’t believe I’m actually going through with this!

The first thing we did was introduce each other. Though she didn’t ask for it, I gave her the envelop full of money to complete my financial obligation to her. She graciously accepted it. We both sat down again.

GFBB and I proceeded to have a fairly long conversation about many different topics. I asked her about her bodybuilding career and how she feels about traveling around the world and offering sessions to paying customers. Then we talked about traveling in general. We spoke about our world travels and some of our shared experiences of being a foreigner in a far off land. We talked about our jobs, our families, politics, the difference between our generations and some fairly deep philosophical topics.

Gee, I did not expect our conversation to go like this! She’s a pretty smart cookie.

After talking for about fifteen minutes, our conversation found a natural conclusion and we both knew it. It was time to begin this thing. She broke the ice by asking this simple question:

“Do you like strong women?”

Do I? Um, yes!

I got the sense she wanted to talk with me just to ease my nerves. She knew this is my first ever session and that I’m a complete newbie to this whole process. She even jokingly asked me how my mother would feel if she found out her son was in a hotel room with a strange, mostly naked woman. I told her she would probably be shocked and a bit disappointed.

Come to think of it, I have no idea what my mother would think about this. That’s probably something I don’t want to ever find out.

Amber Deluca exudes uncontained sexiness.

She suggested that she give me a back rub first. Alright, no problem!

I took off my shirt, shoes, socks and pants and lay down on the bed face down wearing only my underwear and a nervous smile. I still could not believe this was happening. But here I was, about to receive a back massage from a strong, beautiful intelligent woman.

Her hands pressed deep into my back, relaxing me beyond what I expected was possible. She commented on how I have a “swimmer’s body,” which I suppose means lean, angular and v-shaped. I took this as a supreme compliment. She obviously has met her share of muscular men in her life. I can take pride that she even found a reason to comment on my figure!

After I was sufficiently relaxed, she proceeded to take off her dress. I tried to turn around to steal a peek, but she playfully tapped me on the face to scold me.

“No peeking!” she says.

Oh, how I love this woman!

I, being a good boy, turned my head away so she could denude without my eyes wandering in her direction. I knew she was topless when I felt her large, plump breasts rubbing against my back. GFBB slowly caressed her breasts across my back side, starting on my butt and ending to almost my neckline. God, that felt good! Feeling the points of her nipples poke my skin accentuated the entire experience.

Very erotic, indeed.

Eventually she allows me to turn me around, upon which I lay on my back only to look up upon one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her pretty face smiling at me, GFBB’s ample bosom impeccably complemented her toned, curvaceous figure. Her strong hands stroked my arms and shoulders. If Heaven exists, I think angels would look like her.

Shy and unsure about what to do next, she guided my hands to feel her breasts. Wow! Unbelievable! Warm, abundant and plump, her breasts gave off a more maternal vibe rather than sexual. She says they’re implants, which makes sense considering how much bodybuilding rescinds the fatty tissue women have in their mammary glands.

We both sat up and she began to “pose” for me. Flexing her arms, I felt her hard biceps welcoming me. Do I like strong women? I think my answer is definitely a resounding “yes!”

I greedily felt her muscles with a mixture of awe and hesitation. Where can I touch her? How does she feel about me touching her body like a horny school boy? She’s obviously used to this sort of thing, but I still didn’t want to treat her like a prostitute. She’s not a prostitute, even though the services she’s offering and the circumstances surrounding our meeting would suggest such a role.

Let me be clear. GFBB is not a prostitute. Not even close.

These thoughts flooded through my mind as I felt up her legs, feet, butt (she still had panties on), back, abdomen, arms and shoulders. Was I disappointed that her muscles weren’t bulgier and more defined? Not one bit.

“What about if I give you a back rub instead?” I suggested.

“Okay. Let’s try that,” she responds.

Now it was GFBB’s turn to get on her stomach and receive a relaxing back rub. Admiring her thick core, I thoroughly enjoyed making her feel like I appreciated everything she’s doing for me. I wonder how often guys who see her return the favor instead of always being on the receiving end. I wanted to show her that I’m a giving person.

We then got on the subject of talking about her career offering sessions to guys like me and how she feels about it. She tells me she doesn’t mind doing things like this, but she hates the word “session.”

“I prefer to call this an appointment,” she tells me.

I agree “session” doesn’t sound right. “Appointment” seems to be a more dignified way of describing muscle worship services. I agree with her completely.

Eventually I ask her about some of the weirdest “appointments” she’s ever had. She told me about one time when a married couple, a man and a woman, asked her to participate in a threesome. The man got aroused by his wife choking him nearly to the point of total asphyxiation. She found that disturbing.

I would too. Yikes.

I continued to rub her back. Feeling her trapezius muscles and listening to her retell stories, I realized I love the way her deep, gravelly voice sounds. There’s something sexy about a woman with a deep voice; very authoritative yet undeniably feminine.

GFBB’s skin was warm and firm. Her musky smell turned me on even more. I don’t consider smell to be a strong sense of mine. I don’t normally associate memories with smell. This evening might change all that. This evening will perhaps change many things about me.

I briefly looked at the bedside clock and saw nearly 50 minutes had passed so far. Gee, time sure flies when you’re having fun! She tells me I’m her last client of the evening. So I suppose that means she isn’t “clock watching” to make sure I get only an hour. I get the sense she wants to take her time with me. For that I am thankful.

We turned the discussion toward the subject of BDSM, the novel “50 Shades of Grey” and how muscle worship fits into all that. I told her BDSM isn’t my thing. She said that’s fine. We both agreed that “to each, his own.” GFBB offered to give me a brief taste of what she usually does with her clients. I got on my back and she wrapped her strong legs around my neck. She demonstrated what a “scissor lock” feels like. Some guys get aroused by a strong woman wrestling him into submission. A scissor hold is a common move. She squeezed, though not particularly hard, and asked me if I liked it.

“Honestly, I’m a little uncomfortable by this.”

She released her powerful thighs and let me sit up. Wow. Those are some dynamic pair of legs!

“It’s strange,” she began. “The guys who want to wrestle with me feel like they have something to prove. But prove what?”

Who wouldn't want Anne Freitas to wrap her strong, powerful legs around them? — Who wouldn’t want Anne Freitas to wrap her strong, powerful legs around them?

I imagine there are insecure men out there who feel like “winning” a wrestling match with a female bodybuilder would be a great personal victory. In a strange sort of way, I kind of understand why, even though I don’t feel the same. All I can say is that I don’t need to “prove” anything to anyone, let alone a beautiful lady like GFBB.

I looked at the clock again. Almost an hour has passed. From the time I knocked on the door to the present moment, it’s been an hour. I think we both know what comes next.

“May I use the bathroom?” I ask.

“Of course.” She laughs.

I go into the bathroom and pee. I didn’t really have to pee that badly, but I figure if I’m about to receive a “happy ending” I should be as comfortable as possible. I’ve never done anything like this before so I want my first time to be special.

I come out of the bathroom and see GFBB has taken off her panties. She is completely naked. As nude as the day she was born. She stood over her iPod and fiddled with it. She asked me if I knew how to work this. Her iPod was playing the same song over and over again (I hadn’t noticed) and she wanted it to move on to the next song. I told her I had no idea why it was doing that. I gave her a playful spank on her bare butt. She giggled.

We got back on the bed after I removed my underwear. Both of us completely nude, we felt up each other’s bodies once more. Amazingly, my penis wasn’t hard yet, but I sure hope it will be soon. I looked down at her vagina and saw she shaved her pubic hair down to a fine thin strip. Very hot. Her firm, round butt was majestic. God, this woman is beautiful beyond words!

We looked into each other’s eyes and knew what was about to happen next. She promised a hand job at the end of our appointment. This moment could not have been more surreal. Imagine for a moment: Here I am, a meek Asian dude from Seattle, about to receive a hand job from a gorgeous world-famous female bodybuilder. One year ago I would have said you were crazy if you told me this was going to happen.

No way! Not me. I wouldn’t be able to do anything like that.

But – sure enough – it’s about to happen. Her touch sends shivers down my spine. Her skin feels like rich velvet. Her eyes captivate my soul. Her strength makes me swoon in ways no other woman could possibly match. Her playfulness, intelligence, kindness, sexiness and dry wit elicit emotions inside me that I know are irrational. We aren’t lovers. I just met her an hour ago. I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. Yet why do I feel this way? Why do I feel like, in a mysteriously metaphysical way, this moment will forever be frozen in time? Why am I feeling a love for her that doesn’t make an ounce of sense? I know we could never be actual lovers, but why does this moment feel so…perfect?

As she teasingly plays with my penis, I couldn’t stop thinking about what all of this means.

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

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

The lovely Ginger Martin. Once again, none of the ladies featured here is the woman I had a session with.

So there I was. Tuesday, May 21. Sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen.

I had a hard time concentrating at work. Getting stuff done was nearly impossible. My mind was somewhere else, far away from whatever I was supposed to be doing at my job.

Because in two days, in a little more than 48 hours, I’ll be engaging in my first ever muscle worship session with GFBB (Gorgeous Female Bodybuilder). I just don’t know where yet. This one last detail is the only thing I haven’t solidified yet with her.

Thursday at 7 p.m. Got it. But where? In Seattle? Or somewhere outside of Seattle?

But suddenly, while lounging around and superfluously passing the time, I receive a much anticipated e-mail from my personal account.

It’s from GFBB! Yes!!!

Up to this point, I felt like GFBB and I have developed good e-mail chemistry, if such a thing is possible. We’ve communicated clearly back and forth, there’s been no misunderstandings (wiring the deposit money into her account went smoothly) and she’s even cracked a joke or two toward me. It definitely appears as though this arrangement is starting off on the right foot.

I’m guessing she probably gets a lot of creepy messages from random guys (and ladies) asking her to do some ridiculous things. Fetish activities, threesomes, choking (to the point of near death), posing for photos/videos, role playing and probably even straight up sex. So it was refreshing to hear that she thinks of this as less of a “sexual” arrangement and more of a “business-like” proposition.

Kathy Johansson wearing very sexy red lingerie.

Her e-mail message lets me know which hotel she’s staying at during her Seattle stop. And guess what? The hotel is less than three miles away from my apartment! Holy cow! She’s staying within a stone’s throw of where I live. This definitely bodes well.

GFBB gives me her phone number and tells me to text her when I arrive at the hotel. Alright, gotcha. I can do that.

The next two days flew by quicker than a Tokyo bullet train running away from Godzilla. I decided to take a “sick day” that Thursday because I don’t want any distractions leading up to this session. I work fairly far away from my apartment and there are times when really bad traffic, combined with terrible weather, can make my commute long and arduous. I didn’t want any emotional or physical disruptions on the day of my first ever session with a gorgeous female bodybuilder. So it seemed clear to me that being “ill” that day was justifiable.

I woke up on Thursday morning feeling fresh and alive. Butterflies weren’t swarming in my stomach yet, but I could definitely tell there was a certain electrical charge flowing through my system. Let’s face it; this doesn’t happen all the time. And a guy is totally allowed to be nervous in anticipation of his first time, right?

Shawn Tan is tall, elegant, beautiful and sexy as hell. Can we all agree?

I ate breakfast and headed out to the gym to work out. I understand I could never look as amazing as GFBB, but it never hurts to get a good workout in to get my blood flowing and to calm my nerves. I don’t normally to go the gym on afternoons, so I saw a whole different crowd than I’m used to seeing. Mostly retired folks and stay-at-home-moms.

It was leg day. Yuck.

On the agenda for the day were squats, lunges and other leg machine exercises. During my entire workout all I could think about was me – yours truly – stroking GFBB’s strong legs, caressing her biceps and fondling her breasts. Judging from pictures I’ve seen of her, she definitely has a bountiful pair of breasts. This is without a doubt something I was looking forward to experiencing!

The gorgeous Kathy Connors demonstrating the nerdy/sexy dynamic.

After my grueling workout (leg day is always grueling. Just ask anyone who actually does it!), I then walked over to the grocery store across the street from the gym. At the store I bought a nice bottle of wine to give to her as a gift. I figure it’s the least I can do to demonstrate how thankful I am that she’s willing to let me have a session with her. I then went to the bank in the same complex to withdraw the rest of the money I need to pay her.

Upon returning home, it suddenly hit me. I’m about to participate in my first ever session with a gorgeous female bodybuilder. Don’t get me wrong; I know I’m about to do this (I’ve had this planned for at least a month), but it wasn’t until this moment, with a bottle of wine and an envelope full of cash in my possession, that it really started to sink in.

I lay on my bed and tried to think of nothing. Not think about playing hooky from work. Not think about whether this session will be a disappointment or not. Not think about what she’ll think of me once she meets me. Not even think about what I’ll eat for dinner after the session is over. I tried to think of nada, nothing, zilch.

But I couldn’t. I had butterflies dancing in my stomach (they were probably participating in a drunken rave by now), my blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof and enough nervous energy of fifty chorus girls making their Broadway debut. I had to do something in the next hour to pass the time…

I then thought of what to do: Write a blog post.

So, I did. You can read it here.

After publishing this new post, I looked at my phone and saw it was a little after 6 p.m. My appointment with GFBB is at 7 p.m. The venue is less than three miles away. I could get there in ten minutes. Theoretically, I could leave here at 6:30 and still be early. But darn it, I have to leave now! All this fiddling around is making me go insane.

Besides, what if I get a flat tire? What if my car magically runs out of gas? What if there’s some catastrophic accident on the road that will delay me for forty minutes? Yes, I should leave now just to play it safe.

Damn. Logic has completely left my brain. All that’s left are nothing but an aching libido and flaming nerves. I should definitely leave now or risk suffering a subdural hematoma right here in my apartment.

It never hurts to show a picture of Kim Perez, does it? No, it certainly doesn't. — It never hurts to show a picture of Kim Perez, does it? No, it certainly doesn’t.

Before departing, I check my e-mail one last time to make sure I have her room number. Room 132. Okay…I’ve looked at Google Maps enough times to know where this hotel is like the back of my hand, so I’m golden on that front.

Alright. Time to go!

No more than twelve minutes later, I’m sitting in the parking lot of the hotel where GFBB is staying. Yikes! This shit is getting real! And to think that this Beautiful Muscle Goddess is a within shouting distance of where I live. Hot damn. I feel like a teenage girl about to meet a heartthrob pop star for the first time. If my voice starts to squeak indeterminately and I get the sudden urge to pass out, I’ll know why.

What time is it? Hmmmmmm…6:19.

6:20.

6:21.

6:22.

6:23.

6:24.

Holy hell. Could time move any slower?!!!

Seriously. Time could not move fast enough. As I sat there, in my car, on an overcast day in the Pacific Northwest, I began to think: Is she with a client right now at this moment? If not, could I text her right now and perhaps get a good fifteen or twenty minutes of extra session time with her? Speaking of which, is she a clock-watcher or is she very loose with how long these things last? Am I her last appointment of the day or does she have three or four other horny guys scheduled later this evening? Could some of her other clients be sitting in their cars right now, twiddling their thumbs, just like me? What if–

You know what? Screw it! I’m going to text her. I know it’s early (by the time I make this decision, it’s about 6:45), but what the hell? I’m here, aren’t I? I was told to text her just as soon as I got here, so I might as well follow along with her directions.

Nikki Fuller is one of my all-time favorites. Need I explain why?

So, I texted her to let her know I was here.

A few moments later, she replies, saying “Ok u can come to my room now.”

Well, if the lady says so…

I got out of my car, locked the door and made the “long” trek (it felt long, okay!!!) to the entrance of the hotel. Thankfully, there weren’t a whole lot of people around, except for an older Asian couple who looked as though they just arrived in town. I quickly entered the hotel, intentionally avoided making eye contact with the front desk staff and took a sharp right turn toward her room.

On one hand, I want to look like I belonged here; but on the other hand, if they don’t remember me, would they ask me what business I had being here? Better play it safe and speed walk while keeping my head down. It probably isn’t too often when a random dude comes in to their premises to meet a strange woman for a sexually-charged muscle worship session.

Walking down the long corridor, complete with a dark red carpet and Seattle-themed artwork, I decided to use the bathroom before knocking on her door. Whenever I get really nervous, I get the urge to pee. Better do it now versus wasting time later using the toilet during my session!

This is Sarah Hayes. Baby got back, n'est-ce pas? — This is Sarah Hayes. Baby got back, n’est-ce pas?

Minutes later, I left the bathroom and proceeded forward to meet my Fate. I felt like a death row inmate making his last trip down the prison hallway before being electrocuted. Overdramatic? Of course. But if there’s ever an occasion to be unapologetically theatrical, now is the time.

I stood in front of room #132 and took a deep breath. This is it, Ryan. This is the moment you get to meet up close and personal (and hopefully, get really personal later on) with a famous female bodybuilder who’s strong, gorgeous, accomplished, well-regarded and amicable. This is it, buddy!

Another deep breath.

Exhale.

Extend hand.

Make a fist.

Knock on the door.

Wait.

The door then opens.

It creeks open ominously, almost romantically, as if I were a lost prince exploring a magical castle in a Disney movie.

I peeked my head inside to see who opened the door. Is it her? Is it–

And there she is.

There she is.

There. She. Is.

THERE. SHE. IS.

Holy cow. Holy mother of mercy. Wow!

I only have one word to describe this moment:

…

Damn.

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

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.

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.

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.

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).

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)