Tag: Sex

Self-Worship: The Unspoken Confessions of Female Bodybuilders

Four of the most beautiful women in the world: Yaxeni Oriquen, Anne Freitas, Alina Popa and Iris Kyle.
Four of the most beautiful women in the world: Yaxeni Oriquen, Anne Freitas, Alina Popa and Iris Kyle.

Everyone knows how amazing female bodybuilders are in every aspect of life: Physically, emotionally, intellectually, socially, sexually and perhaps even spiritually.

It should be obvious that lots of men out there share these feelings. Female bodybuilders, athletes and those who love pumping their bodies at the gym are, simply put, a thing of beauty. They are beautiful in ways that cannot justifiably be put into words. The context of their beauty is so unfathomable that 100 volumes of encyclopedia-level text could not explain it all.

But that’s just one perspective. That’s the perspective of straight men who love strong women. But there’s a whole other side of the coin that deserves its own discussion.

What about women?

Specifically, women who are also strong and muscular. What do they think of their fellow muscular sisters? Or themselves?

For the past year I’ve been in correspondence with a real-life female bodybuilder who has expressed her love for my blog. Yes, I was floored when I learned that an actual flesh-and-blood FBB was reading my posts! In our many discussions, this topic recently came up: Female bodybuilders are often turned on by each other…and themselves.

A very tanned Nicki Pimm.
A very tanned Nicki Pimm.

Wait, what? In addition to that being perhaps the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, in many ways this makes perfect sense. Of course, it goes without saying that I myself am not a female bodybuilder, so my knowledge on this subject is somewhat limited. But from what I do understand, let’s take some time to discuss a topic that definitely deserves a blog article unto itself.

The Underlying Assumption

First, let’s begin with the Underlying Assumption. A female bodybuilder is a woman who dedicates nearly every waking moment of her life toward one singular goal: to achieve a desired physique that maximizes her body’s muscular potential.

This potential could be realized in terms of muscle mass, aesthetic proportions, striking the perfect balance between muscularity and traditional femininity or a combination of all three. Regardless, the ultimate goal is to sculpt one’s body to become Beautiful (despite, of course, not everyone in our society sharing this definition of “Beautiful”). I capitalize the word “Beautiful” because it’s not just a general classification of “beautiful.” Conversely, “beautiful” with a lowercase “b” is defined as “pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.” That dictionary definition is pretty basic and covers a lot of ground. “Beautiful” with an uppercase “B” means (in my personal dictionary) “pleasing one’s own personal senses or mind aesthetically.”

In this definition, “Beautiful” is not a term defined by others. It’s a standard defined by one’s own self. Yes, obviously competitive bodybuilders are being judged by a panel of other people, but that’s beside the point. Ultimately, an FBB (or male bodybuilder) is really competing against herself. Her standards are the only standards she cares about. Perfection is an internal goal, not an external one. She doesn’t seek to please others. She seeks to please herself. PERIOD.

So given all this, the Underlying Assumption is the basic premise that female bodybuilders are actively pursuing to achieve “Beauty” as they define it. It’s a lofty goal that takes years and years of dieting, lifting, supplementation, drugs (yes, this happens. Get over it), strategic periods of rest, consulting, tears, anguish and sacrifices. All to achieve what? That’s right. Beauty. To become Beautiful in ways that are almost comparable to a religious experience. It’s a spiritual quest that one always pursues, yet never fully achieves.

Sheronica Sade Henton is a rising star.
Sheronica Sade Henton is a rising star.

No professional athlete worth their weight in gold would ever admit out loud that they’ve “made it.” Michael Jordan never believed he reached the mountaintops of being a great basketball player. Even at the prime of his career, he always believed he could be better. There was something about his game that could be improved. While we all know now (and at the time) that he was indeed the greatest of all time, he never believed that. He always needed something to push him further, to motivate him to become better at what he does. Greatness is not an end result, it’s a process. A process one never stops chasing.

That being said, a female bodybuilder is – every single day of her life – climbing her own bodybuilding Mount Everest. She’s seeking out her muscular Nirvana. Her spiritual quest, though unorthodox, resembles more a Tibetan monk striving toward Enlightenment than a professional athlete preparing for game day.

Which leads us to…

Now that we’ve established our Underlying Assumption, we can now move on to the idea that started this discussion.

Cindy (which is not her real name, but a fake one to conceal her true identity), confesses that many female bodybuilders get sexually aroused by both themselves and their fellow FBBs. Whether it happens during a contest, while working out or during interactions with her muscle sisters, there are FBBs who can’t help but become sexually provoked by it all.

Just to give you a better idea of what I’m talking about, here is an excerpt from a recent conversation I’ve had with Cindy:

Cindy: Women are omnisexual. Everything turns us on. Men are more likely to be oriented in one or the other direction.

Cindy: There are a lot of bisexual men, but bisexuality in general comes STANDARD with the women’s psyche.

Ryan: Do you get turned on by yourself?

Cindy: YES very

Cindy: When I see or feel my body growing, pumping

Cindy: And my body reacts when I see other women’s bodies although I really NEED a man for sex

Ryan: Fascinating

Ryan: Are you turned on by the fact that it’s a female form that’s muscular, or because muscularity is traditionally associated with masculinity?

Cindy: No because of how it feels, the sensuality of it

Cindy: I feel so STRONG

Cindy: It makes me wet to feel this way

Cindy: And my body responds, my pits get moist, my nipples get hard

Cindy: It is just so erotic

Wow. What a fascinating conversation, wouldn’t you say? While this is coming from her own perspective, it probably isn’t a stretch of the truth to assume that other FBBs share this same experience. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that all of them do, but for the sake of argument, let’s assume this experience is common enough.

So, we’re not talking about lesbians who are naturally attracted to other women. That’s an oversimplification. We’re talking about straight (or semi-straight) women who, in certain circumstances, become aroused through the mere fact of being a bodybuilder. This means there must be something inherent within the lifestyle that causes this to happen. But what is it?

What this all means, in a nutshell

It’s not surprising that some bodybuilders (male or female) find their profession (or when participating in activities associated with their profession) to be so sexually arousing. These are men and women who are the top of their class competing with themselves to achieve a physique of gargantuan proportions. Our Underlying Assumption returns us to the concept of “Beauty” and how attaining this level of “Beauty” is an unrelenting driving force behind everything these athletes do.

You don’t reach the pinnacle of athletic achievement without passion. You don’t reach it without being out-of-the-ordinary. You don’t get there unless there’s something deep within your soul that aches to be the best you could be.

And that attitude can be very arousing. Especially when you mix in the dynamic of creating perfectly sculpted bodies, which already carries heavy sexual overtones.

The blonde goddess Johanna Dejager.
The blonde goddess Johanna Dejager.

Think about everything related to competitive bodybuilding. The time. The preparation. The sacrifices. The heart. Everything. Just to qualify for a competition is an accomplishment unto itself. But more than that, it’s a very sensual experience. The hot lights flashing down on the stage, the sweat dripping off your brow as the judges write down notes about you, the sounds of people screaming your name as you strike a pose, and especially the high stakes drama associated with any competitive environment.

Sexual arousal is predicated upon being exposed to stimuli that create a physiological and mental response conducive to sparking arousal. These stimuli come from the five senses: sight, taste, touch, sound and smell. Whether you’re in the gym, backstage before a show or in the privacy of your bedroom admiring your physical progress in the mirror, opportunities to being exposed to stimuli are numerous.

So what is “stimuli?” Stimuli can come from a variety of sources. It’s highly sensual and differs from person to person. We’re not all turned on by the same thing. But when exposed to these stimuli at the proper time in the proper manner, it triggers a sexual response in the mind.

Anything can trigger a response. Anything. A sight. A scent. Someone’s voice. Someone’s moan. Bright lights. Dim lights. Natural light. Warm air. A cool breeze. A crowded room. A lonely room. Your partner. Yourself. A thought. A memory. A nightmare. A long forgotten dream. A conversation you once had with someone. Hunger. Fullness. Thirst. Feelings of happiness. Feelings of contentment. Feelings of uncertainty. A contorted mixture of emotions too enormous to describe. Excitement. Anticipation. Anxiety. Melancholy. Nervousness. That sensation of butterflies fluttering about in the pit of your stomach. The joy of victory. The agony of defeat. The mixed feelings of seeing a loved one win while you lose. Sweat. Your heart pounding. Your pulse racing a million miles per minute. Someone’s breath. Someone’s jittery mannerisms. The look on someone’s face. The position of someone’s body. The way a beam of light shines down on someone’s face. Her face. His face. Your own face. Youthfulness. Experience. Love. Anger. Hurt. Awkward encounters. Sickness. Good health. Cleanliness. Filth. Body heat. An unspoken sense of connectedness. Intuition. Ambiguity. Jealousy. Envy. Admiration. Unconditional respect. Her muscles. His muscles. Their muscles. My muscles. Flexing. Showing off. Demonstration of hard work. Playfulness. Egos. Competition. Fierce rivalry. The epic build up. The inevitable let down. Persistence. Shattered dreams. Dreams that really come true. Waiting for your turn. Waiting for his turn. Waiting for her turn. Waiting for our turn. The spotlight. The attention. The tens of thousands of voices screaming your name. The hundreds of thousands of voices screaming the other person’s name. Loudness. Quietness. Silence. Stillness. Shaking in your boots. A chill running down your spine. A tap on your shoulder. A pat on the back. A handshake. A kiss. A whisper in your ear. That one time you made love. That one time you masturbated. That one time you saw him. That one time you saw her. That one time you looked in the mirror and liked what you saw. That one time you looked in the mirror and hated what you saw but vowed to change that immediately. The promise you made to yourself to accept who you are regardless of what other people think. Dancing in the rain. Feeling snow hit the tip of your tongue. Basking in the warm glow of a summer evening. Looking out the window at a peaceful autumn storm. The feeling of your sore muscles after a strenuous workout. The feeling of his muscles after his workout. The feeling of her muscles after her workout. Craving that pump. Needing external affirmations. Desiring to be desired. Being desired. Being the one and only. Being the focus of attention. Knowing your destiny is entirely up to you. Knowing you can fail. Knowing you can succeed. Succeeding. Failing. Not giving a damn either way. Epic moments. Subtle moments. Everyday moments. The logical. The unexplained. The magical. The divine. That which you know but cannot put into words. That which you are embarrassed to even think about. That which you need more than anything else. A goal. A purpose. Existing. God. Humanity. Everything.

Everything.

Or, better yet, anything.

Who’s to say you’re wrong to be turned on by any of this? After all, everyone has different sensual triggers. We’ve all lived lives as diverse as anything you can imagine. The list goes on and on and on. But that’s the beauty of the human mind. You can’t explain any of it. You feel things because you can. The heart and mind sometimes work in tandem, other times they work against each other. It’s all out of your control.

Sophie Legace is a spectacular view, is she not?
Sophie Lagace is a spectacular view, is she not?

Any athlete or artist who spends so much time, sweat, emotional vulnerability, personal discomfort and sense of “normalcy” is bound to be a person with heightened passion. That drive isn’t found with just anyone. The “average Joe” or “Average Jane” could not do what a room full of hot, sweaty, smelly and divinely beautiful female bodybuilders could do. Not by a long shot. What they have to do to look the way they do is simply beyond what most of us would do to pursue our so-called “dreams.”

But for them, it’s not just a mere “dream.” It’s a calling. It requires mental toughness that only a small handful of us could emulate. So when you’ve invested so much into your craft, when you’re finally surrounded by peers who know exactly what you experience on a day-in and day-out basis, you have every reason to be aroused by your surroundings. You have every reason to want to participate in a mass muscle orgy right on the spot. All your pent-up desires have to come out or else you might explode.

So…why are some female bodybuilders easily aroused by each other?

For God’s sake. Isn’t it bloody obvious?

Why Men are Fascinated with a Female Bodybuilder’s Genitalia (NSFW)

WARNING: This post, unlike most posts on this website, contains images that are definitely not safe the work. Unless, of course, you work at a place that allows you to view pictures of gorgeous nude female bodybuilders. If this is the case, you need to let me know if there are any job openings at your place of employment as soon as possible.

One aspect to having a female muscle fetish that might seem really bizarre at first but sort of makes sense once you think about is this:

We are fascinated with a muscular woman’s genitalia.

<Insert dramatic pause>

Whoa there! What??? Is this a real thing?

Yes, it is. It’s a very real thing. Let me explain in further detail.

There are a few female bodybuilders who are especially famous for what exists between her legs. Denise Masino is probably the best example of this. Some Internet users have described Miss Masino as having a “Reuben sandwich” or a “pastrami sandwich” between her thighs. One might describe her vulva as looking like “roast beef.” The analogies may be crude (and unintentionally hilarious), but they aren’t far off from the mark.

Other FBBs are also famous for their genitals. Angela Salvagno is a very well-endowed woman. Amber DeLuca is also very beautiful down there. Yvette Bova is not afraid to show off her lady parts for a leering camera (and for good reason!). But when you ask any fan of female bodybuilding who has the most memorable package, Queen Denise immediately comes to mind.

So what’s all the interest about? First of all, there is interest. Just do a simple Google search (preferably when you’re NOT at work!) of “female bodybuilder clit” or “female muscle pussy” and see what you get. There are many websites and blogs dedicated to showcasing the genitals of FBBs. Female bodybuilding aficionados may not want to openly admit it, but looking at an FBB’s clit, vulva, labia and vagina is often a big turn-on.

The reason for this interest is an intriguing topic of discussion. Let’s break it down:

1. The differences between boys and girls

Growing up, most kids know the most basic differences between boys and girls. Boys have a penis, girls have a vagina. Pretty simple, huh? As a former child myself, I can testify to the existence of many conversations with my friends on the playground where questions like this arose:

“What does a girl’s pussy look like?”

“Have you ever seen a pussy before?”

“Do this with your hands…”

The latter should be very familiar to most of you. Remember back in the day when someone told you to put your hands together, part your pointer finger and middle finger, and interconnect it with someone who’s doing the exact same thing? Yeah, supposedly it looks like a girl’s vagina when you move the palms of your hands outward.

Does it really? No, not really. But when you’re 10 years old, you’ll believe anything you’re told.

Of course, back then none of us ever heard of the word “vagina,” so we stuck to calling it a “pussy.” Rumor has it some adults continue to use this vernacular. Whatever. The point being is that growing up, we were all very curious about what exists between our legs and how not everyone looks the same down there. Some boys are circumcised. Others are not. Do Asian girls and white girls have different looking pussies? God only knows…

Meet Denise Masino, who lays claim to one of the most famous set of genitalia among FBBs.
Meet Denise Masino, who lays claim to one of the most famous set of genitalia among FBBs.

So when these boys and girls grow up to become men and women, doesn’t it figure that this fascination would continue? We’re captivated by what we don’t know. Of course, there’s a base sexual interest in the genitalia of someone you’re attracted to, but that’s just part of the equation. This merely explains the origins of our interest in the genitalia of the opposite sex.

2. A female bodybuilder comes close to becoming a “man” without actually being one

Scientifically speaking, increased testosterone levels in female bodybuilders is the reason why their clitorises increase in size.

Known as “clitoromegaly,” it is defined as an abnormal enlargement of the clitoris that is either congenital (happens at birth) or acquired through the use of anabolic steroids (including testosterone). Clitoromegaly does not include the enlargement of the clitoris during sexual arousal.

During the embryo’s development, the genital tubercle formulates at around week 4 of gestation. This phallic outgrowth is gender-neutral (because the embryo has not established a gender yet), meaning it is neither a penis nor a clitoris. Its undifferentiated status changes during week 13. The sex organs become fully developed by week 16.

All of this boils down to the fact that the penis and the clitoris are homologous. Or in other words, biologically similar and related. Perhaps another way to look at this is to think of the penis and the clitoris as being “brother and sister” to one another.

Obviously, the male’s penis is much larger in size than the female’s clitoris. No amount of shrinkage in a blistering cold swimming pool will change that. But the concept that they’re structurally parallel remains the same.

The Italian Muscle Goddess Angela Salvagno.
The Italian Muscle Goddess Angela Salvagno.

Both provide the possessor of the organ sexual pleasure through orgasm. Both increase in size during sexual arousal. The clitoris’s sole purpose is to give the woman pleasure. The penis obviously, in addition to that, has two other functions – reproduction and urinating.

Didn’t think you’d get a Human Anatomy 101 lesson, did you?

But for male fans of female bodybuilders, the intrigue caused by an FBB’s unnaturally enlarged clitoris can be explained by the fact that this brings her very close to becoming a “man” without her actually becoming a man. Men who are fascinated with big clits don’t like them because they resemble a penis. Their fascination is rooted in the idea that this nearly gives her “male status” without giving her any of the power.

Obviously, having large muscles is mostly associated with maleness. Women are not commonly seen as possessing big strength as part of her natural genetic makeup. So anytime someone crosses that threshold, society tends to react negatively.

An enlarged “penis-like” clitoris is another (though much more hidden) facet of a female bodybuilder’s physical appearance that also crosses a taboo border. Outside of college campuses and gender studies enthusiasts, most of us in the world’s population believe there is a very definitive line between men and women. Culturally, yes, but especially biologically. So anytime we come across a person who messes with that paradigm, a number of different reactions can result.

Some are disgusted. Others are confused. Many are indifferent. But a small number are curious. And that curiosity can lead to embracing that person’s uniqueness. Men who love female muscle clearly embrace that uniqueness.

For many FBB-loving men out there, they find it exciting that a female bodybuilder can work very hard to achieve a physique that nearly encroaches on their male power, but can never ever come close to violating that. No matter how hard she tries, an FBB will always be a woman, unless she attempts gender reconstruction. A large clitoris is another reminder of that. The penis gives the man power (the power to give pleasure and the power to present his seed for reproduction). A large clitoris may somewhat resemble a penis, but it doesn’t give her a single ounce of his power. She’s still a female and he’s still a male, despite the fact she can deadlift more than him.

We can maintain our John Wayne-style machismo despite an FBB being physically stronger than us in every conceivable way. We’re Men with a capital “M.” You may be big, strong, and possess a clitoris that makes male porn actors blush, but you can never encroach upon our “maleness” no matter how hard you try. This attitude isn’t explained by misogyny (though I could be wrong), but instead pride in being who you are.

Skirting this fine line is very interesting to think about. The big question really comes down to: What makes a man a man and what makes a woman a woman?

Without getting into too much detail, clitoromegaly does not make a woman become a man, despite what you might hear on the Internet. She’s still a woman, though a very nontraditional looking woman. And even a weak man who can’t hold a candle up to an FBB in terms of strength can take solace in the fact that his penis (regardless of its size) will always make him a man.

3. Power play, power dynamics and sharing the love

This conveniently transitions into the third point, which is all about power. This point sort of contradicts the previous point, but the fascination with large clits has plenty of layers to it, even some that seem at odds.

Traditionally, the male penis has been associated with power. His ability to sexually satisfy a woman with his penis is his form of “taming” her or “claiming her as his property.” His penis is also the source of his seed, which creates life. She bears life, but he begins it. These notions might be outdated, but you cannot deny these motifs still exist to a certain extent.

In the previous point, we discussed how some men love the fact that FBBs are women who resemble men but remain women, which allows men to maintain their “maleness” without the fear of emasculation. On the other hand, some men love the fact that FBBs are amazing enough to cross that sacred threshold and embrace a level of gender ambiguity that totally turns the tables on everyone.

For some guys, an FBB with a big clit is her way of sharing his “maleness” and his male power but in her own special way. Her clit isn’t equal to his penis, but as far as power goes, they might as well be allied. Speaking for myself, I love FBBs with large clits because it gives her a heightened sense of sexual power. Not because her clit can penetrate anyone on a practical level, but because it gives her an element of sexual dominance that she doesn’t traditionally wield.

The very sexy Amber DeLuca.
The very sexy Amber DeLuca.

A vagina can be seen as being a subordinate body part. Its purpose is to be penetrated by a man for the reception of his seed. It serves a passive role. Many women today reject that notion and believe their vaginas are in fact active parts of their sex life. A large clit is one way of tearing down that paradigm. A large clit is an active avenue for a woman to be sexual. Whether she pleases herself through clitoral masturbation or enjoys her partner (male or female) stimulating her clit for her, her body becomes an active beneficiary of pleasure, not a recipient of enjoyment “by default.”

A woman with a large clit shares power with her male counterparts. She becomes a sensual creature who has the right to self-indulgence. It is this sense of sexual sovereignty that explains why lots of men love female bodybuilders. It’s not necessarily because FBBs are more sexual than “normal” women, it’s because we fantasize that they are. And of course, fantasy can be so much more exciting than reality.

4. We are intrigued by what is different

Sometimes, Occam’s Razor is the simplest explanation (see what I did there?). We are fascinated by what is different. A big clit is abnormal. Therefore, we are interested by it because of that.

Well, that was easy.

But seriously, as if men weren’t already turned on by a woman’s genitalia, larger-than-life genitalia should be considered a bonus. It mesmerizes us on a primal level. There’s something very titillating by the prospects of a woman possessing the strength, sexual prowess and social power of a man while still preserving her femininity. We’re turned on by her because she’s a gorgeous woman; but her muscles, large frame, enlarged genitals and masculine sounding voice (which is not always the case) gives her a special status that is almost impossible to put into words.

Is it female/male? Fe/male? Masculine feminine?

Perhaps a more accurate description is that she’s a “female plus.” Still a woman, not a man, but definitely possessing characteristics that heighten her femininity. While these characteristics may come across as being conventionally “masculine,” being masculine unto itself doesn’t mean you’re a man. It means you exhibit behaviors and physical traits customarily associated with men. A woman can take on these qualities and still retain her womanhood. Nothing has changed. We’re just shifting the way we view how men and women “should” look and behave.

Fall is here, so it must be time for Autumn Raby.
Fall is here, so it must be time for Autumn Raby.

It really is difficult to articulate why so many men love strong muscular women. Her genitalia is part of the equation, but not the entire explanation. There’s something about bending that fine gender line that brings out the passionate frenzy in us. We love our ladies, just a different kind of lady. Nothing wrong with that.

We acknowledge the existence of the traditional male/female binary (for better or for worse), but we aren’t afraid to go against the grain every once in a while. We love female bodybuilders because they’re women, but we certainly see resemblances of us in them. Deep down inside, we may not be that much different.

This is why men are fascinated with a female bodybuilder’s genitalia. Part of it is cultural. Lots of it is sexual. But a tiny part of it is intuitive. We don’t know why, we can’t explain why, but we just can’t get enough of Denise Masino’s beautiful and hypnotic pastrami sandwich.

I’ll take that on rye, please!

Worship Me

Isabelle Turell demands to be worshiped.
Isabelle Turell demands to be worshiped.

Sweat drips off his face. On his knees, he looks up and can barely believe what his eyes are seeing. There she is, in all her immaculate glory. There she is, as perfect as he’d imagine her.

“May I…touch?” he asks.

She takes one step forward toward him. She extends her right arm and flexes her 18 inch bicep for him. He stops breathing, mesmerized by this powerfully erotic demonstration of strength. Her enormous muscles captivate him. He is a slave to her muscles. Strong as an ox, she extends her left arm and flexes her other 18 inch bicep. A smile creeps across her gorgeous face.

“Yes, dear. Touch to your heart’s delight,” she says.

He takes a deep breath and lightly brushes his fingers against her right bicep. Rock hard. Solid. Veiny. As big as a grapefruit. He feels her coarse skin and is rendered completely speechless. Never before in his life has he ever seen muscles this enormous on a woman. Never has he ever seen a woman who looks like this. He doubts he ever will again.

Dropping her arms, she turns to a side chest pose. Her barrel chest expands to superhuman proportions. Hardness forms in his pants. His breathing nearly stops for a second time.

“Do you like my body?”

Isn’t the answer to that obvious?

“Yes, ma’am. I love your body. Very much. It’s perfect.”

Every inch of her body is covered in huge, ripped muscles. Not a single centimeter of her body is flat, flabby or weak. Strength, supremacy and feminine grace exudes from her entire being. Power, control, authority, beauty, all of it. There has never been anyone like her on this planet before.

“Thank you. What part of my body do you like the most?”

I want to touch the shoulders of Arti Sharma Lopes!
I want to touch the shoulders of Arti Sharma Lopes!

His hands greedily rub her thick thighs. She wiggles her quad from left to right, confidently showing off her incredible muscle control. His attention moves to her hard calves, which particularly stand out when wearing these sparkly blue stiletto heels.

“Everything, ma’am. I love everything. But if I had to choose one part…” he begins, standing on his feet and facing her directly, “I’d have to choose your shoulders. Wow. So perfectly rounded.”

He caresses her shoulders with finesse. Not wanting to be treated like such a delicate flower, she grabs his hands and brings them close to her chest. Her eyes become serious. He has no idea how to react.

“Don’t touch me like I’m a special piece of art. I’m a woman. A strong, beautiful woman who’s very fucking proud of her body. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to get this body. Lifting, hardcore dieting, drinking gallons of water every day, the soreness, the pain, the misery, the loneliness of cooking and working out and resting day after day after fucking day…so don’t treat me like I’m your girlfriend. I’m not your fucking girlfriend, am I?”

The only response he could give is to nod his head in agreement. Would that please her?

“Good. I’m glad we can agree on that. Remove my bikini top, please.”

Instantaneously, he follows orders and unties her bikini bra strap. It drifts to the floor and lands silently. He looks down and sees her pair of small, shrunken breasts with unbelievably stiff, one-inch long nipples. He pinches them lightly and hears a faint moan escape from her throat.

“Ooh, that’s more like it. I like it when you touch me like that. I punish my body every single day to get it to look this way. I want you to reward my hard work by giving me all the pleasure I deserve.”

The impeccably chiseled physique of Desiree Ellis.
The impeccably chiseled physique of Desiree Ellis.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am,” he promises.

Her nipples grow harder and harder. Could they be an inch and a half long? He cups her breasts and squeezes them playfully. Then he moves on to her six-pack abs, trailing his fingers between the chiseled grooves of her abdomen. Another moan is heard from her.

“Let’s get on the bed, darling. Follow me,” she commands.

Kicking off her heels, he hears them plop on top of the hardwood floor. But that’s about furthest thing from his attention. His focus is completely on her. What does she plan to do next? He could only wait and see. She lies on the bed and spreads her legs wide. He sees a substantial bulge in her panties. What could that be? Is that what he thinks it is?

“Take off my bottom. Now!”

Quickly, he gets down on his knees and unties both sides of her bikini bottom. He listens to her heavy breathing as the last piece of clothing is removed from her divine body. She takes her panties and tosses them aside. His eyes fixate on her engorged clitoris protruding out between her legs.

Oh. My. Fucking. GOD!!!!!

At least three inches long, her massive phallic-like clitoris proudly stands at attention right in front of his face. She notices his shock and laughs out loud. Her deep rumbling laugh reverberates throughout the room. His jaw drops. His heartbeat skyrockets. There is no other reaction he can give other than remaining frozen in sheer astonishment.

“Is that what I think it is?” he meekly asks.

“Find out for yourself, honey. Go ahead. Explore what I have down there.”

Taking this as his cue to proceed, he opens his mouth and lowers it onto her gorgeous clit. He begins to suck it as hard as he can. She groans in pleasurable response. He cannot believe the amount of flesh she has between her long strong legs. But he ceases to think and continues to suck on her, using his tongue to lap her sensitive tip. Her senses go into overdrive. She’s wanted a man to do this to her for a very long time. She’s glad it got to be him. She’s glad she could give him this opportunity.

Meanwhile, he strokes her thighs and feels them twitch. He traces his thumb across a long vein going down her left hamstring. He knows he will never be able to be with a woman like her ever again, so he’s doing all he can to soak up the experience.

She feels her climax building. She knows she’s close. Does he also know? He’ll soon find out…

Finally, she comes. Her breathing intensifies. He sticks his finger inside her vagina and feels her walls contracting around him. Very wet down there, he observes. His erection is going to burst out of his underwear at any moment. When her orgasm subsides, she closes her legs and rolls onto her side. She is out of breath. She is pleased. She is happy. But she is far from satisfied.

Far, far from it!

Moments pass before she sits up on the bed. With fire in her eyes, she leaps up and tackles him to the ground. He helplessly falls backward. Impulsively, she rips off his clothes until he too is completely naked. His arousal multiplies. He loves that she’s taking control. He does nothing to resist.

Melissa Dettwiller in a cute yellow bikini.
Melissa Dettwiller in a cute yellow bikini.

Now that both of them are naked, they take some time to observe each other. Clearly, she is physically superior to him in every conceivable way. He is no match for her. Her huge, muscular body is a sight he will never forget. Her arms, shoulders, chest, back, legs, butt and abdomen are carved to perfection. An ancient Greek sculptor could not have created a more physically beautiful and dominant female form. She is the culmination of generations and generations of human biological development. She is the epitome of Woman. The world will never be able to appreciate her like he can.

“Thank you for giving me pleasure, my dear.”

“You’re welcome. I loved sucking on your beautiful clit. It’s so big, ma’am.”

“Yes, it’s very big. Very fucking big. Have you ever seen a clit that big before?” she asks. He shakes his head “no.” She smiles.

“I didn’t think so. Now, I’d like to return the favor and give you pleasure in the same way you gave me pleasure. Would you like that?” she inquires. He nods his head “yes.” Her gaze deepens. Is she looking into his soul?

“But before we do that,” she begins, walking toward the dresser drawer and opening it, “you have to do something for me first.”

He cranes his neck to see what she’s doing. She pulls a piece of cloth out of the drawer and closes it. She turns toward him and walks slowly, playing with the dark cloth in her hands.

“What is it?” he asks.

She comes to him and wraps the makeshift blindfold across his eyes. He gasps. She giggles. She tightens the black cloth around his head and kisses him passionately on the lips. The sudden kiss steals his breath. There is nothing he can do to stop whatever is about to happen next. She leans over and whispers this simple message into his ear:

“Worship me.”

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

Roxie Rain worshiping Lynn McCrossin. Oh, yeah!
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.
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!
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.

A very erotic lady is Yvette Bova.
A very erotic lady is Yvette Bova.

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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
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?
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!

The “Alternate Femininity” of Female Bodybuilders

A striking pose by Karen Garrett.
A striking pose by Karen Garrett.

The unfair stereotypes associated with female bodybuilders are both too numerous to list and cringe-worthy when heard aloud.

“Female bodybuilders are gross because they don’t look like women!”

“Female bodybuilders are disgusting because they secretly want to be men!”

“Female bodybuilders are unappealing because women aren’t supposed to be that muscular!”

“Female bodybuilders aren’t real women because…well, isn’t it obvious?”

How many times have you heard opinions like these? Maybe not word-for-word, but generally speaking does any of this sound familiar? In all likelihood, fans of female bodybuilders and female bodybuilders themselves have probably come across vitriol like this way too often.

In an attempt to shatter some of these negative stereotypes, let’s discuss a concept that a student of gender/sexuality studies should be well versed in: gender as a social construct.

The theory goes that the idea we’ve come to know as “gender” is an arbitrary set of rules, roles and beliefs that is artificially created by culture rather than inherent biology. The differences between men and women are considered “differences” because “we say it’s so.” While certain physiological characteristics separate the male and female sexes (genitalia, hormone levels, reproductive system, etc.), other factors like behavior, intellectual abilities and hierarchal positions in society are nothing more than just a product of the paradigms we’ve created over time.

If we assume this theory to have at least a certain degree of validity, this somewhat debunks the above mentioned stereotypes as, simply put, a bunch of hogwash.

Of course female bodybuilders are real women! They aren’t men. Men are men and women are women. A woman with muscles is still a woman, despite how (admittedly) unusual it is. Who says women aren’t supposed to be that muscular? Just because we don’t see that sort of thing every day doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen.

The idea that female bodybuilders aren’t “feminine” plays into traditional gender roles that most human societies have adapted to a point. Yes, it’s true there are certain cultures out there where women are more of the “hunters” than the “gatherers,” but these types of societies are far and few between. For the sake of debate, let’s just assume that the “men are the stronger sex, women are the weaker sex” dichotomy is universally agreed upon.

Famke Janssen might be the most gorgeous woman on the planet.
Famke Janssen might be the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

It should be mentioned that “femininity” can have a fluid definition. Is “feminine” simply defined as any characteristics that a woman displays, or does there have to be a certain level of “social agreement” on these characteristics? For example, even though weightlifting is traditionally regarded as a male pastime, if more women took up the hobby, over time wouldn’t we start to associate the activity as more “gender neutral?”

Smoking was once seen as strictly a male-dominated activity. Then women started to smoke as well once feminism took off as a major social force. At the time, a woman having the right to smoke in public was a real feminist issue. Our society once upon a time ago looked down upon that suggestion. Then, things changed and both genders were given the “right” to light up a cigarette (now, ironically, smoking is looked down upon not for reasons based on gender, but health).

Perhaps it might be fair to say that female bodybuilders are part of an “alternate femininity.” They’re still feminine, but not in a traditional sense.

One could argue the decision of a woman to take up the sport of bodybuilding is unto itself a feminist act. It’s an act of a woman defying social expectations to achieve results that are both self-empowering and openly defiant of the “weaker sex” label. While many real life FBBs may not actively consider themselves “feminists,” no one can argue that the sport by itself creates problems in how we define traditional femininity.

A lovely pose by Alana Shipp.
A lovely pose by Alana Shipp.

But not “alternate femininity.” The sport of female bodybuilding doesn’t contradict gender roles; it makes it more inclusive of other roles. Men are not the only ones allowed to be physically strong. Women can too. This doesn’t violate the gender divide, rather it challenges us to reconsider whether a divide really exists in the first place (or should exist). Thus, gender roles can’t be contradicted if there is nothing at all to contradict.

The “alternate femininity” theory is based on the idea that if gender is a social construct, everyone is allowed to define gender in their own way. How can you be wrong in your own personal opinion?

So, we can now define “feminine” (and its counterpart “masculine”) in a new way:

Feminine is anything a woman is or does.

This definition completely eliminates the factors of social expectations and cultural rituals. Feminine is not defined as anything a woman is or does as defined by society, but instead anything a woman is or does PERIOD.

For example, if a particular woman likes to drink beer, watch football and play violent videogames, all these activities are “feminine” simply because a woman is doing it. It doesn’t matter that most of us associate these activities with the male species. What matters is what happens on an individual level, nothing more and nothing less.

Who wouldn't go gaga over Sofia Vergara?
Who wouldn’t go gaga over Sofia Vergara?

When we view the world of female bodybuilding through this lens, then theoretically we shouldn’t have any issues here. If a woman wants to bulk herself up, she has every right to. But not only does she have the right to do this, she isn’t betraying her sex, her femininity or her relationship with masculinity. A female bodybuilder isn’t seeking to become masculine. She’s still feminine. Just a different kind of feminine.

It begs to be mentioned that “separate but equal” is not what this is about. “Alternate femininity” is not a separate kind of femininity, but rather a substitute for how we commonly define as conventional femininity.

Alright. So…what’s really the point of all this nonsense?

The main purpose of this conversation is to prove the point that there’s nothing really unusual about straight men being attracted to muscular women. While on the surface this does indeed seem strange, when you logically play out this scenario from beginning to end, this is really much ado about nothing.

Straight men are attracted to women. This simple fact has been accepted for generations upon generations. But if we add the condition of “straight men are attracted to muscular women,” why does everyone suddenly become irrational and think this is some kind of abomination?

I want to be poolside by Simone Sousa!
I want to be poolside by Simone Sousa!

If one of your male buddies told you while you were hanging out over drinks that he thinks “Sofia Vergara is hot,” well, I can’t think of too many guys who would disagree. So why is it considered weird when that same guy also says “Alina Popa is hot”? It’s a matter of personal preference, not some arbitrary set of hard-and-fast rules about what kinds of women men are allowed to be attracted to.

This dispels the rumor that we love female bodybuilders because “they look like men” or that “we’re secretly gay.” This cannot be further from the truth. Our sexuality is not in question. When I fantasize about being with a woman like Amber DeLuca, I’m not thinking about her as one of my guy friends. I don’t daydream about downing cheap lagers with her while we shoot pool or go bowling. Instead, I’m imagining a scenario involving a romantic candlelit dinner, expensive red wine, flowers, an idyllic beach-side resort and hours and hours of very hot and sensual lovemaking.

Oh yeah!

I want to connect with her emotionally and intellectually, not just physically. My romantic fantasies involving an FBB would not seem out of place in a sappy Nicholas Sparks novel. Just the amount of weight the leading lady can bench press might differ a tad!

To summarize, let’s attempt to reduce this discussion to its most basic elements:

Men are attracted to beautiful women.

Sound crazy? Nope. Sounds pretty reasonable to me. As a straight guy myself, I can attest to how accurate this sentence is. Men are attracted to beautiful women. Who can possibly argue with that?

The caveat, of course, is that men define “beautiful” in different ways. And guess what? They have every right to! No man should ever constrict himself over what kinds of beauty he appreciates in the world. Life is too short to limit yourself. Never box yourself in. If there’s something in life that really gets your gears running, don’t shy away from it. Embrace it!

Aaaaaaaand finally, a much-anticipated photo of Adriana Lima.
Aaaaaaaand finally, a much-anticipated photo of Adriana Lima.

I am attracted to women like Lisa Cross and Lindsay Mulinazzi not just because of their muscles. You see, it’s not just about the muscles, or her strength, or her bulk. It’s everything about her. Their personalities. Their intellect. Their drive, dedication, motivation and desires. It’s the total package that makes me go gaga for them.

Simply put, I’m attracted to Miss Cross and Miss Mulinazzi because they’re beautiful women.

Denise Masino is a beautiful woman.

Gayle Moher is a beautiful woman.

Victoria Dominguez is a beautiful woman.

Iris Kyle is a beautiful woman.

Kate Upton is a beautiful woman.

Halle Berry is a beautiful woman.

Katy Perry is a beautiful woman.

They are all beautiful women. The only difference is how universally regarded their beauty is. It’s as simple as that. Most of us can agree that Bar Refaeli is super gorgeous. But not everyone can agree that Monica Martin is equally gorgeous. But the truth is that both opinions are correct. Who is to say that they’re wrong? To each his own, right?

Too often, when we discuss the subject of female bodybuilders and the men who love them, we get way too caught up in talking about an FBB’s muscles. Yes, her muscles are very important, but that misses the mark. To reiterate a previous point, it’s not just about her muscles. Her muscles are just part of why many men are attracted to her. Her muscles are not the “be-all and end-all” of her beauty. They are part of a larger package.

And what package is that? Simple. She’s a woman.

A woman. That’s right. A woman. A very beautiful (and muscular) woman, but a woman nevertheless.

Adriana Lima and Alina Popa are both gorgeous; no if, ands, or buts about it. They just are. No need to explain why. No need to put either of them in a separate category of gorgeousness. No need to justify Miss Popa’s beauty compared to Miss Lima’s. Nope. Both are stunning. End of story.

The “alternate femininity” theory of female bodybuilders really boils down to the simple idea that men are attracted to them because they’re women. We find them beautiful. We love their femininity. Granted, we may define “femininity” differently from the general population, but the essential idea remains the same:

Men are attracted to beautiful women.

This core concept is at the heart of why men like me and countless others love female bodybuilders. We find them beautiful. There’s no way I can reduce this argument any further. It is what it is.

Is there any ambiguity left?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is this sensation that Max cleverly knew to exploit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cabo looks like such a great vacation spot.
Cabo looks like such a great vacation spot.

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. She blinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not part of the deal!”

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

“We’ll see.”

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

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

The gorgeous Dr. Dena Westerfield.
The gorgeous Dr. Dena Westerfield.

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

Voices everywhere seemingly scream all at once:

“What the fuck is going on here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A busy street in Mexico City.
A busy street in Mexico City.

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

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

“Max, Max, Max, Max!” Marie chants.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a few moments pass, Marie has an idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To where, exactly? That doesn’t matter.

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

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

An idyllic beach in Cabo San Lucas.
An idyllic beach in Cabo San Lucas.

“Fuck me, Max.”

Max blinks. The margarita he’s drinking almost comes out of his nose.

“Wait, what? What did you say, Marie?”

“You heard me, Max. Fuck me. Right now,” Marie whispers in his ear. She reaches down and caresses his thigh suggestively.

Max is in what you might call “paradise,” which is lying on a white sandy beach in Cabo San Lucas next to a gorgeous female bodybuilder. Marie, who was born and raised in New York City, is a 47-year-old competitive bodybuilder on vacation alone down here in Mexico. Max is lucky enough to be experiencing the same pleasure, as well as the pleasure of taking two weeks off from work.

But what makes Max even luckier is running into Marie, whom he struck up a deep conversation with at a bar the previous night. Max was sitting all alone sipping his beer. She walked in and lit up the entire joint. Heaven knows why she randomly decided to sit at his table when she had hundreds of other social options available to her. She said he looked “lonely and in need of some female companionship.”

How correct she was!

As fate would have it, Marie has chosen Max to be her companion for the remainder of her vacation.

“You can’t be serious,” Max pleads.

Marie snuggles closer to him and playfully nibbles on his ear. She tickles his kneecap. He flinches. Goosebumps race up his skin from head to toe. Wearing a white g-string bikini that leaves nearly nothing to the imagination, Marie is a spectacle of divine proportions. Not too many 47-year-old women can make men ages 10 to 90 turn their heads and stare shamelessly…but she can. She has that kind of power.

Marie has the awesome muscularity of Denise Hoshor...
Marie has the awesome muscularity of Denise Hoshor…

“I’m as serious as can be. What say you?” Her hot breath against his tanning skin nearly makes his heart stop beating.

“Uh, well, look around us!” Max gazes around at the crowded beach full of hundreds of people. Mostly tourists, with the vast majority of them American citizens on vacation. They were in a very public place during this early afternoon. The blazing sun’s oppressive heat is thankfully counterbalanced by a cool Pacific Ocean breeze.

Marie also inspects her surroundings. She is well aware there are tons of people; young and old, male and female, couples, friends, family members, people from every corner of the world; of all shapes and sizes enjoying this majestic day at the beach. She knows that. She’s also very aware that everyone around them is watching them. How often do you see a scrawny Asian guy hanging out intimately with a gorgeous female bodybuilder?

“I know what’s around us. Lots and lots of people. But wouldn’t it be fun…” she begins, moving her hands closer to Max’s engorged manhood, “…to do it in front of all these people?”

Max feels his heart skip a beat the moment Marie’s strong grip reaches over his swim trunks. His arousal is clearly evident, the bulge of his erection obvious for everyone to see. Enjoying the power she has over him, Marie continues her naughty behavior by whispering into his ear:

“If we make love right here, right now…I’ll allow you to dare me to do anything later.”

“Are you suggesting we do some kind of…double dare?” Max asks. Trepidation filling his voice, he starts to notice the people around him listening in on their conversation. Their ears perked up and their heads glancing in their direction, Max and Marie have captured the attention of at least a half a dozen people.

...combined with the gorgeous good looks of Emery Miller.
…combined with the gorgeous good looks of Emery Miller.

“Yes, a double dare. I dare you to fuck me in public at this very moment, and in return I’ll let you dare me to do anything you want afterward.” A wicked smile flashes across her beautiful face. Marie’s chiseled body looks so perfect, so powerful, so sexy. Max can hardly contain himself. He knows this will attract an audience, but at this point the Voice of Reason inside his head has taken a vacation as well.

What’s the harm?

“But, we don’t have protection. I didn’t bring anything,” Max says.

She giggles. Her deep husky voice produces an equally gravelly laugh that makes the hairs on the back of Max’s head stand up at attention.

“We don’t need protection. That’ll make us even naughtier!” Marie says, uncaring if anyone is listening. Max gets the feeling she wants people to listen and watch!

“I don’t know…” Max’s voice trails off. By now ten or twelve people, mostly couples in their 20s and 30s, are watching them and waiting for what’s going to happen next. They aren’t trying to hide their interest anymore. They want to know what Max chooses to do. The couple closest to them, who are young and attractive as supermodels, are snuggling and whispering to each other fervently – perhaps plotting something similar. Other couples are just laying back and intently watching the drama unfold.

“Come on! Be a man, Max. I chose to be with you because you’re different. You’re kind, you’re quiet and you don’t seem to be a jerk. Don’t make me regret my decision to be with you.”

Her challenge is all what Max needed. He hears enough degrading remarks about his masculinity back home. It’s time to show all these people what he’s really made of!

“You asked for it. Now you’re going to receive it! Turn to your other side, Marie.”

Marie, with fire in her eyes, obeys. She turns to her other side, with Max now behind her. Marie feels wetness between her legs starting to develop. Max pulls her bikini bottom to the side and slaps her finely rounded butt. She gasps. By now everyone around them is watching unapologetically. Max realizes he has an audience and refuses to disappoint them.

A crowded beach during the day.
A crowded beach during the day.

Max tugs at his swim trunks and pulls them down, exposing his bare butt to at least eight or nine people. He doesn’t care at all. Freeing his erection, he spits on his fingers and reaches over to rub Marie’s vagina. It’s already dripping wet. Her enlarged clitoris is hot and sensitive. He knows she’s already ready for him.

“Oh, God…Max…do it! I’m ready,” Marie begs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In one swift move, Max pushes his penis inside her from behind. A small round of applause erupts from a couple sitting on lawn chairs behind them. Marie moans. Max grunts, pushing his manhood completely inside her. She flexes her right bicep for him in response. He caresses her bicep greedily, wanting to feel every muscle fiber she’s flexing for him.

He starts to stroke his penis in and out of her, at first slowly and then a little faster. A faint moan escapes from Marie’s throat. She lowers her right arm and bends her head forward. Max leans over and kisses the back of her neck. He licks her, wanting to taste her. Her salty skin tastes as sweet as anything he’s ever tasted before. Max ignores their growing audience but can’t help but notice a bunch of camera phones quickly taking pictures of them.

“God, Max! Mmmmm….”

A groan comes out of Max as he continues to pump into her. No protection, hardly any time to get to know each other, a large audience of 20 or 30 people, gossipy whispers, camera phones snapping illicit photos, broken public decency laws, the sight of a young Asian guy making love to an older female bodybuilder – all these taboos are further turning them on. It’s fueling their desire for each other.

Marie reaches down and grabs Max’s left hand and places it across her swollen clitoris. He gets the hint and begins to lightly stroke it, adding to her pleasure. Max’s right hand cups Marie’s small left breast. Marie has refused to get plastic surgery and defiantly allowed her breasts to shrink in size as her bodybuilding career took off. He doesn’t mind her smallness.

The supermodel couple decides they want to join the fun. They are now making love. A single woman in her early 30s starts to masturbate with her fingers. She doesn’t appear to be with anyone but doesn’t let that get in her way of pleasing herself in this moment.

Max’s strokes inside Marie reaches a steady rhythm. Marie gasps as she orgasms from Max fondling her clit. She is close to coming again from his penis pounding into her. The couple sitting on lawn chairs is now making love too, with her straddling him cowgirl-style as he plays with her breasts.

What began as a simple double dare has now emerged as a full-out impromptu group orgy!

A large crowd surrounds them. But Max and Marie are on a different wave length than the rest and pay no attention to the outside world.

“I’m going to come Max! I’m going to…”

After one last powerful thrust, Max and Marie poetically climax at the same time. Marie lets out an uninhibited scream. Max moans loudly as he spills his semen into her. A raucous round of applause erupts from the masses. The supermodel couple climaxes, then the lawn chair couple follows suit. He ejaculates all over her belly as she falls backward into the sand. The single woman climaxes herself, allowing a small squirt to escape from her vagina. She collapses on her back exhausted and dripping with sweat.

A romantic beach at sunset.
A romantic beach at sunset.

The crowd continues to cheer. Marie turns around and kisses Max deeply. She tickles Max’s penis. He pinches her nipples in return.

After a while, Max and Marie return from Cloud 9 and finally notice the enormous crowd. The number of witnesses to this small orgy is striking. But not a single participant felt any ounce of guilt or embarrassment. In fact, everyone was proud they got to be a part of it.

Marie stands and pulls her bikini bottom back up. Max also stands and readjusts his swim trunks. More clapping bursts forth from the crowd. Max and Marie hold hands and “bow” to their audience like two seasoned Las Vegas magicians paying homage to their loyal fans.

Minutes later the new celebrity couple walks hand-in-hand along the beach aimlessly. Everyone has dispersed by now and gone back to minding their own business. A sense of triumph is felt by both of them.

“Did that just happen?” Max asks.

“Yes, it did. Wasn’t that beautiful?” Marie answers.

“Yes, it was.” He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. She caresses his back in return.

No one speaks for several moments. Marie decides to break the romantic silence.

“I can’t wait to hear what dare you have in store for me!” Marie chuckles.

Max thinks for a moment.

“I think I have something pretty scandalous in mind…”

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.
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.

Lovely biceps of Zoa Linsey.
Lovely biceps of Zoa Linsey.

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.

Asian muscle Goddess Kiana Phi.
Asian muscle Goddess Kiana Phi.

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.

The incomparable Elena Oana Hreapca.
The incomparable Elena Oana Hreapca.

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.

Educating Jonathan – Part Three

A beautiful shot of a woman exuding sexuality.
A beautiful shot of a woman exuding sexuality.

“Listen, I’m…uh, not really comfortable doing this sort of thing,” Jonathan says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say right now.

Samantha turns around but still remains on her hands and knees. She peers up at Jonathan with innocence in her eyes. She doesn’t like the fact she’s making Jonathan feel uncomfortable.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Listen, Jonathan. I’m serious about what I’m saying. I really do deserve to be punished. Someone needs to do it, even if you don’t want to,” she says.

On the contrary, Jonathan sees absolutely no need for any of this to happen. Punishment for what exactly? Racism around the world? Slavery? Past crimes against humanity? Samantha isn’t responsible for any of that! She’s just a college professor. An author. A public speaker. She’s not a tyrant or a flaming bigot. Dear Lord…

“No, Samantha. You don’t need to do this. This is crazy. This doesn’t make sense. Get up off the floor. Let’s just…snuggle and make love again. I don’t like how you’re behaving.” He’s being sincere. Jonathan has never considered himself the “kinky” type. Of course, he’s not one to judge. What someone is into is their business and their business alone.

“I had a feeling you’d feel this way,” Samantha begins. “So I have a backup plan.”

Standing up, Dr. Sammy digs into her black bag again and takes out her cell phone. By this time Jonathan’s arousal has disappeared completely. When things started to get weird, Jonathan didn’t know how to react. He hopes things return back to normal soon.

“Do you mind if I invite my friend to come up here? I have an associate who’s been waiting in my car this whole time.”

“Wait, what? You came here with someone?”

“Yes. An associate of mine. An old friend. Can I invite her here? She’s friendly.” Now there’s someone else involved? Uh oh.

“Uh, sure. Invite her in. I don’t want anyone to be bored and wait in a car all night,” Jonathan says.

At this point, what’s the harm? It’s not like this night could get any stranger. Jonathan’s been with a few women in his life, but never under these circumstances. Most of his “hook-ups” have been just that: hook ups. No requests to whip anyone. No discussions about white guilt, compensating for injustices of the past, no need to sexually appease a so-called “oppressed” racial minority. None of that.

“Okay. Thanks!”

Samantha dials a number and puts the phone up to her ear. A moment later, the person she calls picks up and answers.

“Hello Mistress. It’s me. Come on up. He just gave me permission to invite you in. He’s in unit number 821. See you soon. Bye, honey.” She ends the call and puts her phone back in the black bag. There is a moment of silence. Samantha twirls her hair. Jonathan sits patiently on the bed, trying to rationalize this whole eventful evening. What the hell just happened during the past few minutes? Did he just step into the Twilight Zone or some other alternate dimension?

Finally, Samantha breaks the awkward silence.

“Like I said, she’s an old friend. She’ll punish me in a way I severely deserve,” Samantha insists.

“Who…exactly is your friend? And how is she going to punish you, you know, like you supposedly deserve? Or do I not want to know?”

“Oh, you’ll find out. Trust me. You’ll like her. You’ll like the Mistress.” Samantha sits down on an easy chair and rubs her nipples. They stand at attention. Jonathan sighs and leans back against the headboard. Mistress? What the hell does that mean? As if this night couldn’t get any creepier…it does!

A woman in bondage.
A woman in bondage.

Jonathan decides to use the bathroom. He does. After washing his hands, he hears the doorbell ring. Samantha, who still hasn’t put on any clothes as far as Jonathan knows, answers the door. He faintly hears Samantha and the “Mistress” exchange pleasantries, but he couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. Jonathan considers whether he should put on a bathrobe before meeting this unexpected guest, but is suddenly interrupted mid-thought.

“Oh, Jonathan! She’s here. Don’t worry about getting dressed. Just come out when you can,” Samantha says sweetly – like a mother calling her children in for suppertime.

Embarrassed and a little nervous, Jonathan reluctantly exits the bathroom to greet his newest guest. Standing near the entrance is a tall beautiful black woman wearing a long dark purple fur coat, scarlet red stiletto heels and large gold hoop earrings. She looks to be in her late 30s or early 40s. But black women can be difficult to age at times. Jonathan is mostly captured by her unique beauty. A sharp angular face, striking green eyes, minimal makeup and a husky build makes her a sight to behold.

Unsure of how to properly react, Jonathan is content to just stand there awkwardly and hope for the best.

“Jonathan, this is Mistress Nguvu. She and I go way back. We’re old friends,” Samantha proudly announces. Showing off her friend, Dr. Sammy takes the Mistress’s hand and leads her closer to Jonathan. When they finally approach him, Jonathan is taken aback by how tall she is. Well over six feet tall, his best friend from high school played on the varsity basketball team and was 6 foot 5 inches flat. She appears to be a little shorter, so Jonathan estimates her to be around 6’4” or 6’3”.

“Welcome. Make yourself at home, Mistress Nguvu,” Jonathan weakly says to her. He extends his hand to greet her and she shakes it. Her strong grip also surprises him. He feels like she could break every bone in his hand if she chooses to do so. Finally, their handshake comes to an end and all three are left standing around in silence. Samantha is relishing the moment. Mistress Nguvu’s gorgeous green eyes have not left Jonathan’s earthy brown eyes. While he is physically naked, but her piercing look leaves him exposed in ways that he’s never felt before.

“Thank you for inviting me into your home. I couldn’t stand sitting around in Sammy’s car in the rain for much longer. I needed to stretch my legs,” the Mistress says. Her deep baritone voice has a deep reverberation that could shake the foundations of Earth and Heaven; a voice that also carries confidence, wisdom, sexual prowess and unmistakable femininity. She speaks with a slight accent, one that Jonathan couldn’t quite figure out yet. In these brief few moments he’s known her; Jonathan already senses Mistress Nguvu is a human being unlike any he’s ever encountered before in his life.

“She’s here to give me the punishment you are uncomfortable to deliver. I don’t begrudge you for it. After all, we hardly know each other. But the Mistress and I have been friends for decades. We know each other all too well,” Samantha says. She leans over and licks the Mistress’s left cheek. Mistress Nguvu responds by teasing her right nipple with her long fingers. Dr. Sammy giggles at these sudden pleasurable sensations.

“Is there a place I can hang my coat?” Mistress Nguvu asks.

“Yes, there’s a coat rack right by the door. You passed it when you came in here,” Jonathan answers.

As Mistress Nguvu turns toward the front door, Samantha comes to the bed and picks up the whip, handcuffs and rope. She looks around the room, perhaps to determine where to best use these “toys.” All of this is completely new to Jonathan. He’s read about BDSM practices in a human sexuality class he took during his freshman year, but he mostly took that class to get closer to a girl he liked. They ended up dating for most of the semester, but he truthfully found the class genuinely interesting.

Who knew what he learned in that class would actually become relevant at this very moment?

As if what’s already happened weren’t astounding enough, what happens next would blow all of that completely out of the water. When Mistress Nguvu finds the wooden rack and takes off her handsome fur coat, she reveals an even more stunning spectacle:

A rock hard muscular body.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Jonathan has never seen a sight like this. This striking black woman’s body exudes strength in a way he never knew was possible for a woman. Thick thighs, dense glutes, a chiseled eight-pack set of abdominal muscles, a broad back, plump breasts, a wide chest, vascular arms that look like they could burst out of her skin, shoulders of steel and forearms strong enough to bend iron; Mistress Nguvu has the physique of a male bodybuilder mixed with the grace of a gymnast and the sensuality of a salsa dancer. She hangs up her coat and returns back to the bedroom.

Imagine Mistress Nguvu looking a lot like a taller version of Victoria Dominguez (a.k.a. "Mistress Treasure").
Imagine Mistress Nguvu looking a lot like a taller version of Victoria Dominguez (a.k.a. “Mistress Treasure”).

Wearing nothing but the stiletto heels, fishnet stockings, a tiny black g-string thong and a tight leather corset, Jonathan wasn’t sure whether to feel fear or uncontrollable arousal. Her massive muscles and remarkable height add to her mesmerizing allure.

After everyone finally gathers back in the bedroom, Samantha starts the evening’s activities.

“Jonathan darling, there’s something I want you to watch. The Mistress and I are going to play together. We do this sort of thing all the time, but I feel it is important for you to witness it. I am confident you will get an empowering and much-needed cathartic experience from it,” Dr. Sammy explains.

“Emotional healing is good for the soul. This is why the Mistress is so vital in my life. We have a symbiotic relationship. Our interdependence is crucial for each other’s existence. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Jonathan blinks. He nods.

“Great. Fantastic. So, let’s begin, shall we?” Samantha gets down on her knees and hugs Mistress Nguvu’s legs. Her thighs are so thick Dr. Sammy struggles to wrap her arms completely around them. Jonathan sits down on the easy chair and can do nothing else but stare at the exhibition unfolding before him. He is powerless to think or even begin to comprehend where this evening is going.

Playtime has begun.

“You fucking piece of shit. Why the fuck are you even touching me? I never gave you permission to touch me, you dirty little fucking whore!” Mistress Nguvu declares to Samantha. Still unable to place the source of her accent, the Mistress’s voice is like music to Jonathan’s ears.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I fucked up. I’ll never disobey you again,” Samantha prostrates herself on the floor, her forehead touching the carpet.

A black whip.
A black whip.

“Yes, you will. You will because you’re a worthless slut. You white bitch. You worthless white piece of fucking shit. Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, little slut,” the Mistress scolds.

It’s been a long time since Jonathan has heard language this foul between two adult women. He’d rather not rehash the specific circumstances.

“I’ll do what you say, Mistress. Discipline me for being a little slut, I beg of you!” Samantha – clearly “in character” – looks up at Mistress Nguvu and licks her muscular calf. A smile lurks underneath Nguvu’s threatening façade.

“Thank you, cunt. Now go into your bag and give me my cock.” On cue, Dr. Sammy reaches over for the bag and takes out a nine-inch long black strap-on. The black dildo’s lifelike appearance catches Jonathan by surprise. Its considerable girth and unrealistic length (at least, Jonathan hopes its length is unrealistic) nearly makes Jonathan gasp out loud. Thankfully, he remains perfectly silent.

Mistress Nguvu puts the strap-on around her crotch and strokes the dildo suggestively. Jonathan still cannot believe all this is happening right before him. Never in a billion years would he ever guess a brilliant college feminist professor and a black female bodybuilder dominatrix would ever pay his humble apartment a visit. But alas, here they are engaging in erotic “roleplaying” right in this very room.

“Suck my cock, you white slut. Suck my beautiful black cock till I tell you to stop. And never stop looking me in the eyes, you fucking white cunt,” Nguvu sternly instructs. “If you break any of my rules, you will pay the dire consequences.”

Obediently, Samantha remains on her knees and opens her mouth wide to suck on the nine-inch long black dildo. Her eyes never leave the Mistress’s eyes. Nguvu lightly strokes Samantha’s hair and rubs her shoulders. As she sucks, the Mistress pretends to be having an orgasm from the mock fellatio. A few moments later the Mistress “climaxes.” She moans. Samantha’s eyes remain locked onto the Mistress’s gorgeous face.

“Swallow all of it, little slut. Make me happy,” the Mistress says. She bends down and kisses Dr. Sammy on the forehead. Samantha pretends to swallow Nguvu’s imaginary semen. Afterward she wipes Samantha’s mouth and kisses her deeply on the lips. The whole time Jonathan does nothing but watch. The initial shock of the situation has at last worn off, but enthralling intrigue has taken its place.

“Now give me the rope and the handcuffs, you worthless white cunt.”

Samantha obliges the Mistress immediately.

Nguvu proceeds to tie the rope around Dr. Sammy’s ankles and straps the handcuffs on her wrists. Slumped over, Dr. Sammy looks worse for wear. Unkempt hair, makeup streaking down her face and sweat dripping off her brow, her physical appearance is about to erode even further. Without instructing anyone, Mistress Nguvu walks over to the bed and takes the whip. Jonathan’s heart flutters when this beautiful strong black woman comes near him. It’s as if her presence alone is enough to make his pulse race.

A very kinky photo of Desiree Ellis and a friend.
A very kinky photo of Desiree Ellis and a friend.

“Now, you are about to be punished for your earlier showcase of disobedience. I hope you learn your lesson from this, you fucking white cunt.”

The Mistress raises her fist high in the air, waits a beat, and lashes down on Samantha’s back. The crack of the whip against Dr. Sammy’s flesh makes a sound that stuns Jonathan. He never anticipated the whipping sound would be that…jarring. He thought this was all fun and games (granted, kinky fun and games). But this is something else entirely–

Before Jonathan could process another thought, Mistress Nguvu whips Samantha again. And again, and again, and again. Four, five, six, seven, eight times. More than that. More times than he could count.

Samantha screams. Mistress Nguvu laughs out of sheer sadistic pleasure. Her screams continue. The laughter also continues. Jonathan is frozen stiff. The screams burn his ears. The lashings persist unmercifully.

The Mistress whips her at every angle: her back, her sides, her butt, her legs, her feet, her stomach, her chest, her breasts, her arms, everywhere except for her neck and face. Perhaps they agreed prior to this evening the head area was off limits. But still, Samantha hollers in pain.

For a brief moment, the Mistress stops whipping Samantha. Dr. Sammy is helplessly lying on her stomach, weeping nonstop. Is she actually crying or is she pretending to be crying? Jonathan couldn’t tell. Samantha’s beautiful body is now covered in swollen red streaks. No blood. No evidence of her skin breaking. But the redness on her body appears authentically painful. If she’s really crying because of the pain, Jonathan could understand why.

“Have you had enough, little white bitch?”

Samantha rolls on her back and looks up at the Mistress. Real tears are streaming from her eyes. She’s choked up. She’s sobbing uncontrollably. Jonathan considers intervening, but what the hell could he do? He looks at Mistress Nguvu’s face. She looks angry. Genuinely angry. Jonathan is afraid. He is clueless about what to do next.

“No answer. Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. I always want an answer. I demand an answer from you, little white cunt. You fucking piece of garbage. Just for that, I’ll give you what you deserve. I will officially make you my little slut,” the Mistress threatens.

By now, Jonathan gets it. He understands completely what’s going on here. In a “reverse slavery” motif, Samantha is, within the context of BDSM play, receiving the same treatment African slaves received from their white slave masters. The supposed “cathartic” experience she’s getting from this is feeling the same excruciating humiliation her ancestors brought upon Mistress Nguvu’s ancestors.

Mistress Nguvu, a dominant and powerful black woman, is unleashing relentless physical pain upon a wealthy, educated, privileged white woman. The irony is, of course, how they are reversing the historic roles their predecessors played centuries ago. Dr. Sammy must feel as though her white guilty conscience can come clean after this. Perhaps Mistress Nguvu gets a small degree of vicarious revenge as well.

The rope. And no, this isn't "Clue!"
The rope. And no, this isn’t “Clue!”

The Mistress throws the whip down and straddles herself on top of Samantha’s weary body. She leans over and kisses her. Her tongue slips into Samantha’s mouth. She still has not stopped crying. Her sobs and the tongue entering her mouth cause her to gag. Nguvu snickers condescendingly.

“Jonathan,” Mistress Nguvu says.

Jonathan awakes from his trance. For the first time since they shook hands, the Mistress addresses him directly. Awoken from the spell she’s cast over him, Jonathan dutifully replies.

“Yes, Mistress?”

Mistress Nguvu continues to sit on top of Samantha. The large black dildo pokes her in the back of her head. Dr. Sammy’s persistent wails fill the room. Jonathan’s heartbeat skyrockets. The room is dead quiet. The Mistress then speaks:

“I’m about to give this little slut the next phase of her punishment. But this time, I need your help.”

Educating Jonathan – Part Two

A woman's bottom. A lovely sight, indeed.
A woman’s bottom. A lovely sight, indeed.

Jonathan loves the way she tastes. Subtle hints of expensive wine mixed with irresistible feminine prowess make for a concoction he cannot get enough of.

“God, make love to me, Jonathan. I need it,” she pleads with him. Samantha rolls on her back and spreads her legs wide, welcoming him to her. Her eyes never leaves his eyes.

His breathing becomes heavy. It’s apparent she’s kept her body in great shape. Long sleek legs, rounded butt, a flat tummy and curvy hips made her an aesthetic treat. Her small, slightly sagging breasts do not distract from her otherwise flawless beauty. Jonathan plans on enjoying every inch of her.

He takes her right nipple into his mouth. She gasps. He sucks hard, caressing his tongue over the sensitive tip. It stands up straight, hardened by Jonathan’s warm wet touch. He wraps his arms around her waist and embraces her tightly. He has no intention of letting her go.

Samantha looks up and closes her eyes, focusing all her attention on the pleasure her new lover is selflessly giving her. By now Jonathan has moved on to her other nipple, lapping it with his tongue languorously. She is thankful for this moment. She is thankful for him.

Her expression of her thanks inspires her to take matters into her own hands. She takes Jonathan’s erect penis into her hand and slowly strokes it up and down. He lets out a gentle moan that only she can hear. She strokes him harder. His mouth releases from her nipple and he kisses her.

“Do you want to end this before it starts?” he teases.

“Why? Are you really that close?” she teases back, fondling his scrotum with her fingertips.

Jonathan looks into her eyes and is captivated by her deep blue irises. Like a calming ocean, her eyes seem like they jump out of her body. Her fingers release from his manhood and they hold hands.

“I like you, Samantha. You’re so damn beautiful. Your skin is so soft. Your eyes are so…”

He pauses. She blushes.

“So what?” she asks.

“…so hypnotizing. It’s like you’re casting a spell on me.” He smiles wryly.

“Hypnotizing? I cast a spell on you? I like that. Are you like my own personal voodoo doll?” She extends a finger and outlines his jaw. Jonathan takes that finger into his mouth and sucks on it suggestively. In response, she groans and moans as if he were giving her an orgasm through her finger. Jonathan laughs, freeing her from his lips.

“You’re silly. Such a silly woman.”

She pauses. This time, he blushes.

“A silly woman? I’m a silly doctor. And don’t you forget it!” Samantha playfully nibbles on his shoulder.

Still not believing his good fortune, Jonathan takes a moment to reflect on this moment. How did he get so lucky to be here, engaging in fun foreplay with a gorgeous and intelligent woman like Dr. Sammy? It’s evident she needs this. It’s obvious she’s craving the touch of a man. She’s desperate to be desired.

And Jonathan is just the man to desire her.

“Enough. I want to make love to you,” he declares.

“Then…” she begins, kissing him on the cheek. “…let’s.”

As he reaches for a condom stuffed in his wallet, Samantha urgently grabs his hand.

“No. We don’t need it.” She looks at him earnestly, a sweet innocence glowing from her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m a woman of a certain age. We don’t need it. Come here, you!” Just like that, she straddles him and tosses Jonathan onto his back. Samantha reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. The room darkens, but the moody glow remains. Outside, the full moon beams a bright stream of light into the bedroom. The rain continues to patter against the windows. He can still see her beautiful face.

Gorgeous downtown Seattle during the evening.
Gorgeous downtown Seattle during the evening.

“I love how trusting you are,” he says.

“Shut up.”

Samantha opens her legs and nudges them against his thighs. She lets out a deep breath. He does the same. They stare into each other’s eyes, realizing this perfect moment will never be this perfect again. They could never replicate the feelings they share at this time, when they are seconds away from joining their bodies in the most intimate way possible.

Jonathan nods. She interprets that as her cue.

It takes a few attempts, but eventually she lowers herself onto Jonathan’s manhood at the proper angle and successfully pushes his penis inside her. A primal moan escapes from them both, a shared moan that can only happen when two lovers are tuned into the moment. Samantha experiments with a few up and down thrusts as she rides him like a cowgirl. Jonathan reaches up and cups her breasts. Insecure about her small size and sagging shape, she tries to forget about her body and enjoy the moment. She’s not young, but she’s still got enough appeal as far as her current lover is concerned.

A groan leaves his throat as her motions grow in their intensity. He still cannot believe she doesn’t want him to wear protection. Is she that trusting of him? Jonathan didn’t think pregnancy would be an issue, but she hardly knows him. How could she possibly know what history he has with other women?

These thoughts exit his mind as they continue to make love. Samantha leans forward and kisses him passionately. She turned off the light partially because of her own insecurity, but also because making love in the dark – lit only by the moonlight – is so damn romantic. At heart, she’s a hopeless romantic. She hopes he is too.

“You feel so good, Samantha…so good.” Jonathan struggles to breathe between her incessant kisses and experiencing the pleasure she’s giving him.

“Thank you.” As she continues to ride him, she focuses on her own pleasure. He isn’t as big as her husband, but Jonathan feels…so right inside her. As if he was always meant to be inside her. As if this 5 and a half inch Asian penis was always meant to please her. In all her research about men’s penises, the conclusion she’s universally found was that a woman’s ability to achieve orgasm during penile-vaginal sex has less to do with the size of the man’s endowment and more about her state of mind. Right now, her state of mind couldn’t be better.

Their breathing gets louder. Samantha feels her orgasm reaching its peak. Jonathan’s hands are still feeling her breasts. Her small size doesn’t bother him. What right does he have to criticize the size of a person’s body part?

Her focus dissolves. His world blurs out of view. She is about to come. He is about to come. They both know the other is close.

“I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you, Samantha.”

Such foolish declarations of love are enough to send both lovers over the edge. Samantha’s orgasm consumes her entire body from head to toe. The pulsating pleasure reverberates out from her vagina and throughout the entire room. Her muscles contract rhythmically, creating music from within her body. Jonathan also comes, carelessly emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and indulges in the sensations his body is giving him. Samantha collapses on top of him and they kiss. Jonathan grabs her butt and pinches her right cheek. She gasps at this sudden action. She responds by tickling his scrotum as the last waves of his ejaculation subsides.

They remain still for what seems like an eternity. Neither speaks. Both breathe loudly. Samantha never wants this moment to end. Jonathan wonders how many more moments like this they will share together.

A beautiful white overcoat Dr. Sammy would have worn.
A beautiful white overcoat Dr. Sammy would have worn.

“That was fun,” Samantha whispers.

Jonathan is left speechless. She prefers it that way.

Several moments later Samantha gets up from the bed and walks to the bathroom. Jonathan can hear her pee. Still dazed from their lovemaking, he turns the bedside lamp back on and looks at the condom jammed in his wallet. He smiles, knowing this little piece of latex wouldn’t be used tonight.

The toilet flushes and minutes later Samantha returns to the bed. She lies down on her stomach and spreads her legs wide. Jonathan is amused that she has the nerve to take up all the room. He playfully pushes her legs off to the side.

“In the heat of the moment, we say some pretty imprudent things,” she observes.

“Are you referring to when we said we loved each other?”

“Yes. I don’t know what came over me. And I have no idea what came over you. Were you just being polite?”

“Polite? More like agreeable. I never want to ruin a good moment. And that was a great moment between the two of us.” Jonathan’s penis returns back to a smaller size. He strokes her naked back, hoping the act of caressing her beautiful body would bring him back in the mood. But for now, he’s perfectly content to massage her skin.

Moments pass. Neither lover has a single care in the world.

“Can I ask you a question, Jonathan?”

“Go ahead.” Jonathan looks at her beautiful face, memorizing every inch of her.

“What if I told you your penis was the greatest penis I’ve ever made love to?”

Wait…what?

Time stops. The Earth ceases to spin on its axis. Hell freezes over.

“Uh, what?” His concentration breaks. Jonathan sits up on the bed. A deep sigh escapes from her. Basking in the sensual glow of her two most recent climaxes, Samantha doesn’t know if what she’s talking about makes any sense. Jonathan doesn’t care. He likes what he’s hearing.

“What I mean is complicated. It’s not what you think,” she says. Jonathan strokes her back as she rolls over on her side. Her breathing calms. She doesn’t look at him but instead fixes her gaze outside the north-facing window.

Bondage. A preview of things to come?
Bondage. A preview of things to come?

“I’ve always admired Asian men. I find them fascinating. I think young men like you are fascinating. I’d love to follow you around for one day and find out everything about you. Do you ever feel oppressed in your everyday life?”

“Oppressed? Gosh, I don’t think so. People have always treated me well.”

Her focus remains on whatever is outside that window. She may be looking outside, but her mind is somewhere else.

“I’m glad to hear that. I really am.” Samantha turns over on her back and peers at her lover.

Jonathan cuddles closer to her and strokes her breasts, teasing her nipples. He leans over and they kiss. She reaches down and fondles his much-discussed penis. Initial feelings of arousal return, but he still needs time to recover from their previous coupling.

“Are you asking whether people make fun of my…penis?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I was getting at. Do people do that?”

“Some do. I’ve been hearing jokes about it since middle school. But what does that have to do with…?” He stops toying with her nipples and kisses her shoulders. Not really wanting to have this discussion right now, Jonathan is doing what he can to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad I was able to do this. I’m glad you were willing to invite me to your apartment tonight. I owe you.” Though she’s not making much sense, Jonathan politely remains silent and listens to her speak.

“This is going to sound weird. I know. But please bear with me for a moment. Have you ever heard of the concept of white guilt?”

“Yes. It’s when…white people feel bad about the crimes their ancestors committed against racial minorities in the past. Right?”

“Right, but it’s a little more complicated than that. But here’s the thing,” she sits up and leans against the bed’s headboard. “I too feel guilty. I feel guilty that our society desexualizes Asian men. I feel terrible that boys like you had to grow up hearing all those awful jokes. It makes me sad to think that the dominant white culture has to emasculate you like that for no apparent reason. Do you follow me?”

Hm. Jonathan certainly did not expect a sociology lesson to break out post-coitus. But he will continue to listen to her soliloquy.

“Yes, I follow you. Go on.”

“So this is my way of apologizing to you and other Asian men out there. I chose to come here for many reasons. You’re smart, handsome, well-spoken, studious and courteous. Not too many college-age men are like that to someone who’s willing to fuck them with no strings attached. But there’s another reason at play here. I feel…empowered to make love to you. It’s empowering to know that I’m giving you an opportunity not too many of your Asian brethren are granted. I feel like I’m making right a past injustice by allowing you to come inside me and give me your seed. Your seed liberates me.”

By now Jonathan is a little creeped out. What the hell is this lady talking about? “White Guilt” inspired her to come here and have sex with him? What the fuck?

“Listen, Samantha. This is a pretty strange thing to talk about. I mean, what we’re doing here has nothing to do with society, culture, history or anything like that. We’re just, you know, hooking up. That’s it, am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right to an extent. But there’s more at stake here. By making love to you, by allowing you inside my body, I’m redeeming myself. I’m turning racism on its ugly head and fucking it away. Like magic, you know?”

No, honestly Jonathan has no clue what the hell she’s talking about. Really, what is she trying to–

Samantha spontaneously leaps out from the bed and speed walks toward the front door. When she arrived at his apartment she came with a white overcoat and a black bag. She grabs the mysterious black bag and returns to bed. She sits down and unzips it. Jonathan tries to peer inside while appearing calm and indifferent at the same time.

This is what the mysterious black bag looks like. Intriguing, isn't it?
This is what the mysterious black bag looks like. Intriguing, isn’t it?

“So, Jonathan, I want to redeem myself further. I want to erase the racist crimes of the past committed by my white ancestors. Slavery, the genocide of the Native Americans, pogroms against the Jews, the capitalist exploitation of colored children in the developing world, the Japanese Internment, everything. I want to make right with the Universe. And you’re going to help me out with this, my love.” It appears she’s finally found what she’s looking for inside the bag. By now, Jonathan is officially creeped out. This lady has clearly gone psycho! She’s off her rocker. She’s gone off the deep end of the pool. She’s…

“Take this, Jonathan.”

Jonathan snaps out of his daze and turns to look at her. Samantha, with an eerie look in her eye, is holding a long black leather whip, handcuffs and rope. She hands the items to him. He has absolutely no idea how to react.

“I want you to punish me, Jonathan.”

Just like that, Dr. Sammy stands up and gets down on all fours on the floor. She sticks her butt up in the air facing his direction. Jonathan is utterly shocked and frozen. He cannot move, think or even come close to comprehending what’s going on.

“Punish me. Hard.”

The Art of Sardax

The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom

A place to write all I need to write.

To Helen a Handbasket

Just another WordPress.com weblog

submissy

Married submissive: The love, the kink and the connection.

Jade Mask Entertainment

Follow the lewd adventures of a digital whore.

A Dissolute Life Means...

The Other Livvy

My secret alter ego...

HornyGeekGirl

Scandarella

Story to Tell

Fia Naturie

Let's Burn

Dark Desires

Erotic Fantasies

Eve's Temptations

Erotica & opinion on all to do with sex amd kink

Bill Dobbins Photo

The Creative World of "The Body Photographer"

Simple living...with kids

Helping great parents raise terrific kids

Erotic Escapades

Erotic tales curated and cared for by our small band of (deviant) writers...

Fearless Ophelia

Speaking Out on the Unspeakable

Sarah Doughty

Novelist, Poet, Wordsmith

Babbling Beauty

Beauty, life, and the inner workings of a female mind.

Attila Ovari