Bridgette – Overnight Sensation (part three)

Any driver who doesn't pick up a hitchhiker like Nataliya Romashko would be a fool.

Any driver who doesn’t pick up a hitchhiker like Nataliya Romashko would be a fool.

Several moments later, Jimmy stops filming. Tony takes off his headphones and places them around his neck. Lexie turns off a light to preserve the bulb’s life expectancy. Maggie reluctantly walks toward her “actors” and lends a helping hand to Bridgette. The gorgeous female bodybuilder stands up and looks to be out of breath. Maggie takes out a handkerchief and wipes a small drip of Sean’s semen off her left leg.

Sean snaps out of his trance and notices his surroundings. He sees the camera equipment. He sees the whole set up. Holy shit. Did this really happen?

Bridgette approaches him and embraces him securely. She kisses his cheek and rubs her toes against his toes. A chill runs down his spine.

Yes. That really did happen!

Minutes later, Sean is in the foyer of the mansion fully dressed and back to normal. He finds appetizers, bottles of champagne, candy and other delicious treats spread out across a long oak table. The film crew wastes no time and greedily grabs plates and starts chowing down on this late night feast. Maggie may seem like a boring corporate type, but she sure knows how to treat her employees right. Sean also takes a plate and serves himself up some goodies. All that hot sex in front of the camera roused his appetite.

Eventually Bridgette, dressed in light grey sweatpants and an old Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, makes her grand entrance and joins the post-production party. She hardly says a word to him. Was her cold distance intentional? Did he do something to offend her? Or is she an unfeeling woman who treats him like any other co-worker, despite their recent intimacy?

He is deep in thought. She appears to be preoccupied as well. Then she takes out her phone and starts texting somebody. Her boyfriend, perhaps?

Yikes. Did Sean just have sex with a married woman?

The notion almost makes him want to apologize to her. But he reconsiders when he remembers it was her idea that they do this in the first place. He was merely the lucky son of a bitch who happened to be walking down a sidewalk late at night wanting to do last minute holiday shopping. She was the proactive participant in this matter. Not him, for God’s sake.

A table of delicious appetizers.

A table of delicious appetizers.

At around 1:00 a.m. they drive Sean back to his apartment. Bridgette did not accompany them. She got a bit tipsy and decided to go to sleep. He was not able to say goodbye to her. This bothered him a bit.

Maggie gives Sean her business card and tells him she will e-mail him when the video is up. He shakes her hand and watches the van leave off in the distance. He goes inside and realizes he never went shopping for those pecan pie ingredients. Well, shit. Looks like an early morning visit to a bakery is in order.

Two weeks later

At 5:01 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, Sean prepares to get off work. The heavy rain will guarantee a hellish commute home. Just as he’s about to shut down his computer, he receives a notification of a new e-mail message. Well then. From his personal account. He decides to check it.

It’s from Maggie Schneider. Who is that?

He opens the e-mail. He discovers who it is when he reads her short message:

Hi Sean,

It’s Maggie from Athenian Blue Productions. We were the quirky film crew who kidnapped you a few weeks back and made you the costar of our new film. I’m happy to announce that it’s finally up on our website. We’ve also posted it on Sexy Time Vidz. In case you’ve never heard of it, it’s a hot new porn video site that’s quickly growing in popularity.

You can view the video here. As promised, we blurred out your face so nobody will ever know it’s you. Enjoy, Sean!

Sincerley,

Maggie.

Well. Sean looks around to see if anyone is left in the office. Not a single soul anywhere. So he opens a private browser (because watching porn on a work computer is the best way to get fired) and cuts and pastes the URL into the address bar. The video loads. It’s titled “Female Muscle MILF Gives Asian Boy Lots to be Thankful for.” How charming. Clearly the title is a reference to Thanksgiving.

Sean watches the whole thing. All 35 minutes of it. Wow. Just wow. He remembers every moment of it in fine detail. He recalls how he felt when he first saw her. When he first heard her husky voice. When he was taken inside the camera crew’s van. When he first walked into the mansion. When she dropped her fur coat and revealed her immaculate muscular body. When they first kissed. When he fisted her. When he entered her and fucked her. When she came and squirted all over the floor. The exhaustion. The thrill. The pleasure. Everything.

Wow. And all recorded on a nice HD camera. Quite impressive. Sean likes it. A lot.

He wonders how many people have seen the video so far. 6 views. Well, it’s a start.

Right?

Later that night, at 9:45 p.m. Sean checks the website again. Only 17 views. Pretty dismal. No comments. To be fair, who wants to sit down and watch a 35-minute video clip of a muscular woman fucking some anonymous random guy? Obviously, he doesn’t mind, but he can’t speak for the general population. Right before going to bed at 10:30 p.m., he checks it again. 29 views. Hm. 12 more than 45 minutes ago. At this rate, he and Bridgette will break Gangnam Style’s viewing record in the year 4015.

He goes to bed and drifts off to sleep. Ah, bliss.

The next morning, Sean wakes up and decides to make his own coffee. He usually buys an overpriced Starbucks soy latte on his way to the office, but in an effort to save a few bucks he made a promise to himself to brew his own java every once in a while. This morning would be one of those instances.

His coffee maker estimates it will be done in 3 and a half minutes. Well, that should give him enough time to check the Internet to see what’s going on out there in the world. Sean turns on his computer and opens a Google Chrome browser. CNN’s website is his homepage. When he looks at the top headline, his jaw drops to the floor.

“Viral porn video sets off firestorm”

Wait, what? He clicks on the story to read further. What follows would shock him more than he would ever be shocked in his life.

Earlier this morning a prominent Asian American senator from the state of Hawaii shared on his Twitter account a 35-minute pornographical film showcasing two individuals, one of them a young Asian American man, engaging in a videotaped sexual liaison with a muscular Caucasian woman.

The video was posted yesterday afternoon on the popular porn website Sexy Times Vidz and has skyrocketed to more than 2 million views in the past few hours. Senator Mark Yamada wrote on Twitter, “This video of an Asian American man starring in a mainstream porn is the type of empowering message we should be creating more often #AznPride.”

His tweet has been retweeted more than 50,000 times, including celebrities such as…

Sean continues to read in utter disbelief. He could not believe what he was reading. His video has gone viral. It’s popular now. Everyone around the country is talking about it. EVERYONE.

He doesn’t care if he’s late for work. He’s glued to his computer and doesn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Soon, all the major networks are on the story. ABC News, NBC News, Fox News, The New York Times, USA Today, Time Magazine, Newsweek, etc. Everyone is talking about this video and giving their opinions regarding its social and political ramifications.

Social and political ramifications? What the fuck? It’s a cheaply made porno video! How is this even possible?!

Eventually, Sean does go to work. As he sits at his cubicle, he cannot help but follow this on-going story. By early afternoon, “Asian and FBB porn video” was trending worldwide on Twitter. Every Facebook status update was talking about it. When he went home, Sean turns on the TV and sees Bridgette (whose last name apparently is “Beaulieu”) being interviewed by various talking heads on every 24-hour news network. She refuses to reveal the name of the young Asian gentleman who appeared in the video with her no matter how many times she’s asked.

The next day, the firestorm continues. Opinion writers debate whether Sen. Yamada’s tweet was appropriate for an elected lawmaker. Others argue in favor of the video and feel like “marginalized Asian American men deserve videos like this to show the world they can be as sexually vibrant as their white counterparts.” Most of the publicity is positive. University academics, social critics, news reporters, college students and countless others had to make their “take” on this viral video known to the public.

Laurie Larson wearing a very sexy pink underwear.

Laurie Larson wearing a very sexy pink underwear.

Two days later the buzz continues. The video now has 4.5 million views. Bridgette Beaulieu has become an overnight sensation. She’s now an instant celebrity, and to a lesser extent, Sean also. Sean religiously checks the Internet to see what people are saying about it. One week later. Two weeks later. One whole month later. The conversation persists. The video now has 10 million views. Bridgette’s stock has risen to gargantuan proportions. Endorsement deals are flooding in for her. Bodybuilding contests everywhere on the planet want her to do guest posing and plug certain products. They don’t care about the fact that she’s also a porn actress. That stigma ended the moment her fame exploded like a nuclear bomb.

Maggie e-mails him again to let him know that he’s receiving endless piles of fan mail. Thousands of women around the world want to marry him. Even a few prominent female bodybuilders want to connect with him. But still, Maggie insists, they refuse to leak his identity. His blurred face will forever be how the general public recognizes him. It will never go beyond that.

Holy shit.

Four months later

Spring is right around the corner. The thrill of becoming an instant Internet celebrity has worn off. The buzz has finally died off. Sean realizes that weird chapter of his life is behind him now. Apparently, Bridgette is still profiting from her notoriety. Good for her.

Unfortunately, reading the thousands of comments on the video is enough to make him want to vomit. How malicious are people these days? Do they really have nothing better to do?

She looks gross!

God, so disgusting. Uhg

Why would you want to fuck someone who looks like a man?

I’ll bet he has a small penis LMAO

A white chick fucking an Azn dude? Fuck that shit. How much did he pay her lol

She’s faking it. She has to. His dick is too small to make her actually come. Asian guys are all small.

She’s a freak of nature! Groooooooooossssssssssssssssssssss

And on and on and on. After a while, Sean wisely chooses to ignore these vicious comments. Oh well. Let them make fun of me. It’s not like a gorgeous female bodybuilder has ever wanted to fuck them!

One chilly spring morning Sean leaves for work as usual. As an IT professional at a major consulting firm, Sean spends half of his time in the office and the other half working with clients on site visits. Today is a field day. A tax preparation company downtown needs his help getting their e-mail to work again. Apparently some idiot deleted all their accounts by accident. Whatever. Just another day at the office.

Jodi Miller looking as beautiful as ever.

Jodi Miller looking as beautiful as ever.

This whole week Sean’s car is being borrowed by his brother, whose faithful car became unfaithful and died without warning. Until he finds a replacement vehicle, Sean is left to rely on public transportation to get from Point A to Point B. This morning, he’s taking the train to get to downtown.

Tons of people are on the train today. Kids who are on spring break. Old people doing old people stuff. Men and women wearing suits who clearly work at jobs that pay better than his. An occasional homeless guy who smells like a skunk bathing in whale carcass.

45 minutes later (which included a really long wait at the first station stop) Sean exits the train and rides the long escalator to the upper street level. A horde of humanity bustling about their business greets him immediately. The first thing Sean does is try to identify a place to buy a cup of coffee and something decent to eat. Who has time for breakfast these days?

Wanting to skip the mundane routine that is Starbucks, Sean decides to try out a lesser known caffeine hole. He finds one. He stands in line and peers up at the menu. 12 ounce Mexican mocha? 8 ounce soy latte? Or what about good old fashioned drip coffee? And what about food? He looks through the glass counter and sees blueberry scones, bran muffins, lemon bars, fruit salads, and something that resembles oatmeal–

“Sean! Hi!”

Whoa, what?

“Sean! Is that you!? No way!”

He turns around to see where the voice is coming from. It’s a familiar voice. Gruff yet soothing. Rough yet gentle. Textured yet deeply feminine. Can it be…

It is!

Sitting at a red leather booth at the far corner of the café is exactly who he thinks it is. Someone he’s thought about constantly since that fateful night. Someone he’ll never forget as long as he lives.

Bridgette.

Beautiful, gorgeous Bridgette. Hanging out at a random café, sipping on a chilled Americano and eating a raspberry Danish. What the hell is she doing here? Isn’t she based in Los Angeles? Or was that whole charade completely made up?

“Bridgette! Oh my God, what on Earth are you doing here?” Sean asks. He surrenders his place in line and walks up to her. His appointment with his client isn’t for another half hour, so he has time to chat with this beautiful woman and get coffee later.

She stands up and moves around the table. They hug. Her tight embrace almost crushes him in half. They share a quick kiss. He can smell her musky scent. Normally he would be somewhat repulsed by this, but because it’s Bridgette…it might as well have been sweet perfume.

A cup of iced coffee.

A cup of iced coffee.

“I happen to be guest posing at the Western Regional Classic tomorrow night! Did you know that was happening in your city this weekend?” By now most everyone is glancing at Bridgette. It’s not often a stunningly gorgeous muscular woman is hanging around at your coffee shop. Wearing yoga pants (thank God!) and a tight sleeveless athletic shirt, every inch of her muscular physique is proudly displayed for the public to witness. Her veiny bulging arms are bared for all to see. Sean notices a few pedestrians stopping dead in their tracks and peering through the window to catch a glimpse of her massive guns.

“I’ve never heard of the Western Regional Classic. I take it this is some big bodybuilding contest?” Sean asks. They both sit down at the table. She takes another sip of her drink.

“Yes, your guess is right,” she says. “I’m not competing, but the federation director asked me to do some guest posing during the opening ceremonies. So here I am! Back in your neck of the woods. How are you doing since the last time we met?”

She winks and smirks. Both she and Sean know exactly how things have gone since their last face-to-face encounter. Their viral video skyrocketed them both to unparalleled notoriety. She’s since become one of the most sought after “adult entertainment” actresses. The production company has even said they’ve received countless inquiries asking for the “faceless Asian guy” to appear in more videos. Imagine that! Fame can be a funny thing sometimes, especially in today’s Digital Age.

“I’ve been great. I’m enjoying my, uh, sudden rise to anonymous stardom. How have you been? It seems like you’re one of the most popular women on the Internet these days.” He whispers this part of the conversation to avoid anyone hearing them. But given how many rude stares they’re getting, he doubts anyone is ignoring them.

“Yeah, no doubt about that. TV appearances, radio interviews, God, it’s out of control. But it’s totally worth it. I even made you a little star!”

Sean blushes. He subtly looks around to see if anyone is connecting the dots that he’s the one she randomly had sex with in that now infamous video. No one outwardly is reacting to their private conversation.

“Yes you did. And I enjoyed my 15 minutes of fame. Thank you again.”

“My pleasure. And your pleasure too. What are you off to right now?”

He realizes he’s wearing a suit, tie and a nice navy blue blazer. Not exactly casual wear for someone in the IT industry. Whenever he goes out on a client site visit, he wants to dress to impress. It’s the least he can do.

“I’m off to work. And you? Are you just killing time before the weekend starts?”

“Pretty much. You should swing by! All the tickets have been sold out, but I can totally get you through the doors. Are you busy at all?”

Sean doesn’t hesitate to answer her.

“Nope! Not busy at all. I would love to see you in action. I’d probably sneak past security if it came down to that.”

She smiles and takes another sip of her Americano. Sean feels a tingling sensation in his groin. He can’t stop looking at her killer physique. Ever since their fateful encounter, not a day goes by when he hasn’t thought about her.

“No need to sneak past anybody. If you want in, you’re in. Are you in?”

Hell yes. Fuck yes.

“Yes. I’d love to watch you perform. I’m in!”

Bridgette takes out her phone from her purse. They exchange numbers. He saves her under “Beautiful Bridgette” and puts his phone back in his pocket. She tells him to send her a text at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow evening right in front of her hotel (which is four blocks east of the convention center). She kisses him on the cheek and he finally gets back in line to order his coffee and breakfast. Everyone in the café is looking at him. Sean knows exactly what kinds of thoughts are going through their little minds.

How does he know her? Who is she? Look at the size of her arms! They’re fucking huge!

And so on. And so on. And so on. He doubts any of them have seen their infamous video, but then again anything is possible. She did appear on CNN. And every other network. That sort of media exposure has a way of getting your face known to all sorts of strangers across the country. But regardless, he knows for a fact none of them suspects he was the lucky fellow who had the privilege of making love to her that night. For that, he could only smile.

As he waved goodbye to Bridgette and walked northwest toward his client’s office, Sean felt a level of giddiness that he hasn’t felt in a long while. Probably not since he was a little kid impatiently anticipating Christmas morning.

He can’t wait to see her pose on that stage in front of thousands of screaming fans. He can’t wait to be one of them. He also can’t wait for whatever happens next. He has no idea what’s in store after the evening’s festivities come to an end, but he does know one thing:

He can’t wait to be with her.

805

Amy Neal showing definitely has the legs to showcase those boots.

Amy Neal showing definitely has the legs to showcase those boots.

They couldn’t wait.

Not after all this agonizing anticipation. Not after the hours they’ve spent silently looking at each other, trying to hide their lust-filled glances from preening eyes.

Not anymore. There’s no holding back. It’s now or never.

The tension between them couldn’t be stronger. It’s at a tipping point. The raw energy surging through them is going to explode at any moment. They need release. They need to shatter the invisible wall separating them. They need each other.

Desperately.

For the past 72 hours, they’ve been dancing a seductive tango without a single word being spoken. She’s a world class professional bodybuilder. He’s a rising amateur photographer. They come from two completely different worlds, but this sensual dance feels as natural and seamless as Fred and Ginger.

It’s the final day of the big competition. The entire weekend has been one long blur for both of them. But now it’s quickly coming to an end. Her exhibition came to an end yesterday. She got screwed by the judges again by placing 3rd when she (and her competition) fully expected her to win it all. Fucking politics. Placing 2nd last year was a travesty. Placing 3rd this year is more like a cruel joke.

Fuck the world. Fuck these pathetic judges who wouldn’t know excellence if it tied them up in a dark alley and fucked them up the ass.

But all that is behind her now. All that matters is getting what she wants. She really needs a guy right now. After spending months upon months training for this competition, she realizes she hasn’t had sex in at least half a year. Fuck. Has it really been that long?

Meeting guys isn’t the hard part. Meeting guys who aren’t complete assholes is a completely different story. She’s met her fair share of pricks (working in the bodybuilding industry can do that to you), but hardly any gentlemen. She hopes he’s different.

He, on the other hand, also hasn’t been with anyone in a while. He’s too embarrassed to think of when. All he knows is that from the moment he locked eyes with her, he knew she was special. He’s met plenty of female bodybuilders and athletes before, but she has an aura around her that made her…unique. He couldn’t explain why. He just knew she was.

She sparkled for the camera. Her smile feels genuine. There’s real warmth to her personality. She’s not fake. She’s not putting on an act. She is who she really is. And that attracts him to her the most.

Camera in hand, he’s already taken more photos than he knows what to do with. At least 500. Maybe 600. God, editing all these photos is going to be a fucking nightmare. But none of that is important to him right now. At this moment, he needs to be with her.

In the grand lobby of the convention center, there is a sea of humanity sprawled all over. People of all sorts. Bodybuilders, spectators, journalists, photographers, vendors, security guards, and maybe even a few celebrities. He’s supposed to photograph all the events (especially the final event), but he’d rather brush it off if it means he could be with her. He frantically looks around for her.

She’s also frantically looking around for him. After the final event, everyone goes their separate ways. This could be her last chance to connect with him. All the flirting, all the loving stares, all the sexual tension between them could be for naught.

Finally, a familiar figure crosses her path. It’s him! Wearing his camera around his neck, he looks as hungry and fierce as her. Wearing sweat pants, an old t-shirt, and no makeup whatsoever, she doesn’t look particularly sexy, but he doesn’t mind. In his opinion, she always looks dazzling. She approaches him and forces him to stop dead in his tracks. His heart stops. Her hearts beats faster. She leans in and whispers this simple message into his ear:

“805.”

Then she walks away. He knows exactly what that means. Room 805. Her room. Her hotel is across the street from the convention center. He knows that for a fact. It is time to meet her there. He snaps a few more photos, knowing she would want a few moments to herself before accepting visitors to her room.

The male and female bodybuilders covered in orange tan spray nearly make him puke. Seeing the annoying wannabe bodybuilders line up at the vendor booths looking for the perfect supplement that will give them the most “gains” also makes him sick to his stomach. He usually hates covering these events, but meeting her changed all of that for the better.

A nice looking hotel room.

A nice looking hotel room.

Meanwhile, back at her room, she quickly disrobes and takes a short shower. She loves the feeling of the hot water cascading off her hard, muscle-bound body. She turns the water off, pats herself dry, and puts on a lily white bathrobe. She then remembers to brush her teeth. Since yesterday’s monstrosity, she’s finally been able to splurge on the foods she’s had to refrain from for the past six months. That pulled pork taco she had for lunch today nearly gave her an orgasm. For real.

She sits on a comfortable beige sofa and waits. Waiting to be ravished. Waiting to be touched. Waiting to be made love to. Waiting for him.

Moments pass. Minutes pass. She becomes impatient. Where the hell is he?

He’s trudging through the rain to get across the street. A damn taxi driver nearly runs him over. Fucking asshole. Can’t he see he’s trying to cross the street?

He enters the hotel and immediately walks toward the elevator. He pushes “up.” He waits. The doors open. He gets inside. He presses “8.” The doors close. The elevator begins its ascension. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Finally, the doors open. He exits the elevator. He passes an attractive couple making out in the hallway. He pays no attention to them. A cleaning maid walks by. A loose toddler waddles underneath a chestnut table. He pays no attention to them either.

After taking a sharp right turn, he finds her room. 805. He closes his eyes and visualizes what she must look like naked. He’s sure reality would far surpass his imagination. Determined to find out, he knocks on the door. Time passes. His palms get sweaty. He holds his breath in anticipation of the door opening.

She gets up. She remembers to tie her bathrobe. She starts to notice her palms get sweaty. She hopes he isn’t as much of a nervous wreck as her.

She opens the door. She looks at him. He looks back at her. Beat. Finally, she welcomes him inside and she briskly closes the door to avoid prying eyes from peeking into their impromptu rendezvous. Rumors start when eyes spy in places they shouldn’t. She wants to make sure that doesn’t happen. She wants to cut that shit in the bud.

There is dead silence between them. Which is fitting, considering they’ve never actually carried on a conversation together. The time for talk is later. Now is the time for something else. Something way more intimate.

First, he places his camera (sporting an impressive telephoto lens) on top of a mahogany credenza. His shoes come off shortly afterward. Then his jacket. Then he stops. He turns to face her. She studies his face, hopelessly trying to guess what’s on his mind. She gives up and instead waits for him to make the first move.

He does.

He goes to her. She throws her thick arms around him. Her embrace is so tight he’s afraid his ribcage will crack. They kiss. Wet, sloppy, and unrefined. Just the way they prefer it. She reaches down and unzips his pants. His erection strains against his underwear. He makes no effort to prevent her from stripping him naked. Within seconds he’s stark naked. His hardness stands at attention. She gently pushes him onto the bed and he falls backward. She stands back and strikes a half dozen bodybuilding poses for him. He applauds at every one of them.

He recognizes excellence when he sees it. Unlike those fucking scumbag judges. She notices his appreciation and takes it to heart.

Enough with the foreplay. Now is the time for intimacy. She unties her bathrobe and lets it fall to the floor. It pools around her ankles. Her muscular naked body glistens in the dim yellow light of her hotel room. His eyes try to take in every square inch of her immaculate body. He knows he will have plenty of time to enjoy her unrivaled physique all to himself.

She jumps on him like a lion attacking its prey. Her massive body entirely covers him, enveloping him. He feels the tip of his penis rubbing against her six-pack abs. They playfully wrestle for a few minutes. Tongues explore each other’s faces. She sucks on his bottom lip while he licks the tip of her nose. He strokes her swollen clit. Holy fuck. Her clit is fucking huge. He then feels her sheer wetness. Dripping. Gushing. Juices flowing. She’s ready for him.

Who wouldn't want to spend an hour or two in a hotel room with Nicole Berg?

Who wouldn’t want to spend an hour or two in a hotel room with Nicole Berg?

They share a momentary gaze. There’s a mutual understanding between them. Should they use protection? She does have a box of condoms in her suitcase, but she trusts him. And he trusts her. They decide to forego it and make love without any barriers.

On his back, he moves his legs together so she can properly straddle him. She starts off on her knees and gradually lowers herself onto his erect manhood. He completely enters her. His scrotum rests snugly against the base of her pelvis. She rocks back and forth gently at first but eventually quickens her pace. She closes her eyes, wanting to drink in every sensual moment of their coupling. He plays with her small breasts, pinching her nipples and caressing her protruding abdominal muscles. She kisses him and breathes deeply. Her hot breath streams across his neck, making the hairs on the back of his head stiffen.

Their eyes meet. He looks at her beautiful face. She looks at his handsome face. They were meant to be together, like this, making love like old lovers, even though they hardly know each other. Each stroke they share, every kiss, every orgasmic buildup brings them closer and closer together to a level that’s so familiar it frightens them.

He’s close. She’s closer. She hasn’t been made love to like this in a while. The same goes for him. They need this release more than they’ve ever needed it before.

One hard pinch of her nipples sends her over the edge. Her vaginal muscles contract around him. She squeezes her beastly thighs around his waist, making him come. He throws his head back and empties himself inside her. She tries to suppress a scream but lets it out anyway – perhaps disturbing their neighbors. She collapses on top of him and feels his chest breathing deeply. They remain like that for a long time.

They choose not to speak a word to each other. Not because they don’t want to talk, but because their form of communication doesn’t need words. There exists an intuitive connection that makes spoken words irrelevant. Nobody can speak this language but them and them alone.

He massages her endless mounds of back muscles. She caresses his softened penis and fondles his scrotum. Their eyes never break focus.

Once the glow of their lovemaking began to wear off, she gets up, takes out a bottle of chilled champagne from a small refrigerator, and pops the cork open with her bare fingers. Then she grabs two plastic cups from the bathroom and pours a frosty glass for both him and her. They drink, talk about a wide range of topics, engage in friendly debate, drink some more, kiss, switch topics to something else entirely different, drink some more, and kiss some more.

Finally, they come to the end of the bottle. Both a little drunk, they decide to make love for the second time. This time, he’s on top. The animalistic passion of their previous coupling was gone for something more subdued. He takes it slow and feels no need to rush. She enjoys every moment of it. They came together from one gloriously shared orgasm. He moans. She gasps. They lay limp in each other’s arms. They decide to turn off the lights and fall asleep.

A bottle of champagne being uncorked.

A bottle of champagne being uncorked.

A little less than an hour later, he unexpectedly awakens to a pleasant surprise. He looks down and sees her gently sucking on his little penis, trying to make it grow to her liking. It does. Now hardened, she grabs his hand and escorts him outside. She opens a large glass door and takes him onto a small balcony overlooking the entire city.

Still naked, they look out at the blackened night sky and watch traffic still crawling by even this late at night. He glances back inside at a wall clock and sees it’s nearing 11 p.m.

Boldly, she wraps her strong arms around him and kisses him fervently. Then they decide to make love for the third time. Knowing at any moment someone could catch them in the act of doing it al fresco made it seem naughtier and riskier. One of their next-door neighbors could easily slip outside and watch them make love!

None of that matters. She grabs onto the balcony’s metal railing and spreads her legs wide. She bends over and invites him to take her from behind. At first he enters her vagina, but she quickly indicates she wants him to enter her in a different way. He takes the hint by licking his index finger and sticking it inside her anus. After properly moistening her tight cavity, he swiftly inserts his hardness inside her. She welcomes his penetration and reaches down to masturbate her strikingly large clitoris.

Her clit, unnaturally enlarged by years of hormone injections, is a signature part of her body that only her most loyal fans know about. He is now privileged to come in very close contact with this legendary feminine appendage.

He pumps into her leisurely at first so he could get used to her tremendous tightness. As he began to get more comfortable inside her, he pumps harder and harder until he starts to get into a rhythm. She continues to masturbate herself and bellows out loud cries of pleasure for the whole city to hear. She doesn’t care if the while city does in fact hear her. On the contrary, she wants everybody to hear her throaty screams of passion!

Soon, he pumps into her for a final time and climaxes. He fills her anus with six powerful squirts of his warm semen and kisses the back of her neck. She eventually climaxes herself from her own self-pleasuring. She tilts her head upward and feels the cool evening breeze cloak her naked skin. Her taut muscles defiantly remain rigid in the cold wind.

When she feels his penis soften, she turns around and hugs him firmly, refusing to let go. She needs this so badly it almost makes her want to cry. But her inner strength, which is just about as formidable as her physical strength, refuses to allow her to do such a thing. He greedily feels her beautiful muscular body while locking on to her gorgeous eyes. Her bulging arms, rounded shoulders, broad chest, tree trunk thighs, wide back, six-pack abs, sharp nipples, curvy butt – everything about her arouses him. She’s a piece of art.

They stay wrapped up in each other’s arms for a long time.

Soon it became too cold to stay outside. They promptly return back inside and slid the balcony door shut. Did anybody see them in action? There’s no way either of them would ever know.

Shortly after midnight they take a brief shower together. He enjoys every opportunity to soap up her bulky muscles! Now fresh and clean, they dry off and head back to bed.

There might not be an ounce of energy left in their bodies, but their souls are as vibrant as ever. He cuddles up next to her and lightly strokes her still wet hair. She giggles. Her low rumbling voice shakes the entire room. He then reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. In total darkness, they prepare to make love for the fourth time that night. Though his body feels like mush, he knows this may be the first and last encounter they will share together. She feels the same way. They must soak up this entire experience as much as they possibly can.

Just the kind of balcony these two nameless characters would be making love from.

Just the kind of balcony these two nameless characters would be making love from.

And so they began their sensual dance once again. She mounts him and takes him in at a deliberate pace. There’s no hurry to get to sleep. Morning will come, like it always does. This moment of shared pleasure and love may never be rekindled. This is their time. They must do with it what they can before it’s too late.

By now, he feels so right inside her. He feels right at home. It’s like they were always meant to make love to each other, as if some unseen and all-knowing cosmic force drove them together to this humble hotel room, number 805. Neither one of them ever give much thought to the Divine, but now is as good as ever a time to do so.

Perhaps an hour passes; perhaps it was only a few minutes. But eventually she and he climax together – for the fourth time – and it is without a doubt the most beautiful climax of the night. Pure, unadulterated, right. So right. So real. So needed.

He falls asleep instantly. She follows soon after. And then they sleep. Whatever happens in the morning is out of their control. To hell with what happens next. Next can wait. Morning can wait. The future can wait.

What happens now cannot wait.

2014 in Review – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Celebrate the birth of 2015 by feasting your eyes on Kasie Cavanaugh.

Celebrate the birth of 2015 by feasting your eyes on Kasie Cavanaugh.

So here we are, saying goodbye to 2014 and welcoming with open arms 2015. I’d like to thank every single person who reads my blog on a regular basis as well as the thousands of people who randomly find me from Google searches and outside referrals.

I love you all!

What will 2015 bring? Oh, who knows? A new year is a new year, which is pretty arbitrary unto itself. The calendar changes to a higher number, that’s it. But if the coming of a new year inspires you to become a better person, well, that’s a fantastic thing. Everyone should strive to become the best they can be regardless of the circumstances. Go for it if you have the chance.

Here’s to another year in blogging! I’m still getting plenty of you e-mailing me your thoughts, questions and concerns about all things female muscle-related. While I may not be an expert on the subject of female bodybuilding, female athletics or human sexuality, I still welcome your voices. I love conversation, especially of this particular subject matter.

Want to join the conversation? You certainly can! Everyone is encouraged to leave a comment or two on my blog. I try not to delete anyone’s comments, which includes the negative ones. I only delete spam messages.

You can also e-mail me! Once again, my e-mail address is ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com. I may not respond right away, but I try to write back as thoroughly as possible and as soon as possible. Forgive me if it takes a while to get back to you. I do have a life outside of blogging, you know (yeah, right…).

Keep on enjoying the strong, beautiful ladies we all adore. Need an idea for a spiffy New Year’s Resolution? I have a recommendation for you right here. So open up that bottle of champagne, find somebody to kiss (even if it has to be your cat!), and ring in the new year in style. Rumor has it if you close your eyes, click your heels twice and make a silent wish at midnight, Alina Popa will magically appear out of thin air to enjoy the celebration with you.

If only…

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 130,000 times in 2014. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 6 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Bridgette – The Unlikely Porn Star (part two)

Mindi O'Brien, ladies and gentlemen.

Mindi O’Brien, ladies and gentlemen.

Sean takes a deep breath and exhales. Oh boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a red light flash next to the camera lens. We’re rolling. And this is when things get real. Very real.

Bridgette starts off the action by slowly approaching Sean and putting her arms around his waist. She squeezes him tightly, causing an electric jolt to run down his back. Wow, is she really that strong? What kind of a physique does she have hiding underneath that fur coat?

“Come here, pretty boy. Thank you for coming over to my place,” Bridgette says, the sensuality dripping from her husky voice. “Is there anything I can do to make your Thanksgiving more memorable?”

Sean struggles to come up with something to say. “Roleplaying” was never his strength. He never knew the right thing to say. Besides, how clever could you possibly be given these unusual circumstances?

“I can think of many things, but what I’m really looking forward to is the big Thanksgiving feast,” he finally says. Damn! Is that the best he can do?

“Well, I’ll give you something to feast on!” Bridgette whispers in his ear.

She releases him, takes a few steps back, and reveals her Body. Bridgette unbuttons her fur coat, twirls around theatrically, and drops it to the floor. What Sean sees standing before him makes his whole body freeze.

WOW!!!

Bridgette isn’t just a big lady. She’s a big muscular lady!

Revealing her full figure, Sean’s jaw drops to the floor as he gazes upon Bridgette’s divine body. Finely chiseled, perfectly proportioned, enormously massive, and still unmistakably feminine, her body is a magnificent sight to behold. Big muscles everywhere, by Sean’s estimation Bridgette must be some kind of professional bodybuilder. She must have tons of trophies sitting around somewhere with an incredible physique like hers!

Holy FUCKING shit!!!!!!!!

She also is completely nude, which Sean just realizes. Whoa. She was naked the entire time underneath that fur coat!

“Surprised by what you see?” Bridgette smirks. Sean’s eyes are wider than flying saucers.

“Yes, I am! Holy smokes! You look…incredible!” Deep down inside, Sean has always admired strong women. As a kid, he used to buy old fitness magazines for 50 cents at a local library and sneak into his room and ogle at the pictures of fitness girls. Ever since then he’s secretly had a “thing” for beautiful girls with muscle. Little did he ever imagine he’d actually meet one in real life!

“I don’t just look incredible. I feel incredible. Here, come see for yourself.” She walks toward him, stark naked, and holds up her right bicep for him to feel. Sean touches it, bestowing upon it his utmost attention. Dear God, it’s sooooooooo hard! Sean has never felt biceps so hard before. Looking at Bridgette from head to toe, he’s never ever seen up-close-and-personal a woman with so much muscle. It’s like she’s from another planet…

“Impressed? You certainly looked impressed,” she observes.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m very much impressed. You probably work really hard to look like this. God, I can’t possibly imagine what you have to do to look as beautiful as this,” Sean says. Now completely oblivious to the camera, Sean has been transported to a whole other dimension. Only she and he exist; no one else.

This camera would be difficult to mount over your shoulder.

This camera would be difficult to mount over your shoulder.

“Let’s see what you got, pretty boy.” Bridgette leans forward and unbuckles Sean’s belt. He feels an erection forming. Should he be embarrassed by this?

Sean takes in another deep breath but forgets to exhale once Bridgette successfully pulls his pants down to his ankles. He lifts his feet as she rips his pants off and tosses them across the room. He finally exhales when she begins to take off his shoes.

“You look so good, little boy. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I wanted you to come to bed with me. If you had said ‘no,’ I don’t know what I would have done with myself,” Bridgette confesses. By now Sean is only wearing his underwear and shirt. Bridgette turns around and bends over. Her rounded butt pushes against his now erect penis. Sean’s heart races like a wild horse.

“Spank me. Go ahead. I’ve been a naughty little muscle girl!” Instead of spanking her, Sean cups her firm cheeks in his hands and savors the feeling. So hard. So full. But so beautiful at the same time. Finally, he lightly slaps her on her right butt cheek. Sean watches it jiggle up and down.

“Oh! Yes, yes, yes! That’s what I’m talking about. I like that.”

“What else do you like?” By now Sean has gotten more comfortable “acting” in front of the camera. He’s completely forgotten that a camera crew is watching them. Jimmy, Tony, Lexie and Maggie might as well not exist. They don’t matter anymore.

Bridgette turns back toward him and kisses him on the lips. This sudden act of intimacy steals his breath away. He feels her small breasts and plays with her erect nipples. Oh my God! They must be at least an inch and a half long! He pinches them greedily.

“Ouch! That hurts!”

Surprised, Sean crashes back to reality. He releases her nipples and backs off.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Sean apologizes. He could tell she wasn’t really hurt when she throws her head back and laughs.

“Do you really think you could give me pain? I’m a strong muscle girl. No one, especially you, could hurt me. I’m stronger and more muscular than most guys, aren’t I?” She raises her left leg toward him, challenging him to feel it. He touches her thick thigh, a shiver going down his spine as he feels her beautiful leg. Sean, without a doubt, is a Leg Guy.

“So…strong…” Sean says, in a daze. Bridgette puts her leg down and takes off her fur boots. Now completely naked, she strikes a few bodybuilding poses and smiles incessantly. Sean watches in amazement and applauds after she finishes.

“Thank you. You might not be able to give me pain, but you certainly should be able to give me…pleasure.”

Pleasure? He sure hopes so! Sean has never had sex with a white woman before. Only small and petite Asian girls. He’s certain he’s been able to satisfy all of them. But could he match up with a big muscular woman like Bridgette?

“I’d like to think so,” he says. Bridgette goes to him and rips off his shirt. Literally. She grabs his shirt by the collar and tears it apart. Sean nearly climaxes just from her amazing show of strength. Luckily, this is an old shirt that Sean only wears when he doesn’t plan on being seen in public for too long. Going to the store is one thing. Starring in a porno is quite another. So he doesn’t mind not being able to wear this shirt ever again.

This is what I imagine the condo would be like.

This is what I imagine the condo would be like.

Only his underwear remains. His erection, which Sean suddenly becomes very self-conscious about, strains against the blue fabric. Aren’t male porn stars supposed to be well-endowed? Sean doesn’t think he’s small down there, but he isn’t completely confident in it either. His last girlfriend, a 4’11” Vietnamese girl, seemed to enjoy their lovemaking sessions. His girlfriend before that, a 5’1” Japanese girl, also never complained about their bedroom activities. The girl he lost his virginity to at the age of 15 was half Chinese and half Korean. She was on the high school gymnastics team. She was smaller and skinner than the other two girls (if that were even possible!). But Bridgette is something else entirely. She’s probably had many lovers in her life. Her expectations must be through the roof. How would Sean measure up to them?

“Enough of the foreplay. I’ve been ready since the moment I first met you. How should we do this?” Bridgette stretches her arms and legs as if she were preparing for a track meet. Sean expects his erection to burst out of his underwear if it doesn’t come off soon. As if she has extrasensory perception, Bridgette goes to him and pulls his underwear to the floor. She bends down to inspect his penis. Sean starts to sweat. His heart pounds so loudly he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the room could hear it.

She kisses the sensitive tip. Goosebumps rise from every pore of his skin. Bridgette then licks the side, tasting it as if it were an ice cream cone. Sean is afraid if she continues to do this, he could come within seconds. He closes his eyes and tries to think of something else to prolong the moment. Nothing productive comes to mind.

“So beautiful. So hard. You’re definitely ready for me, little boy,” Bridgette tells him between licks. She tickles his scrotum with her hard, calloused fingers. All her years of weightlifting has deadened almost all the skin on her hands. The sensation of her rigid touch against his erection forces a sudden gasp to escape from his lips.

“I have an idea. Follow me,” Bridgette orders. She stands up, takes his hand and drags him to the far north corner of the bedroom. Jimmy removes the camera from the tripod and follows them with the camera slung over his shoulder. Tony sneaks closely behind holding the boom microphone. Lexie turns a light toward their direction. Maggie remains where she is, standing and watching intently.

Bridgette takes them to the 180 degree curved window overlooking the sea. She tugs on a rope which pulls back the curtains. Sean looks out, admiring the gorgeous night skyline view. But it’s his view of her that impresses him more. She’s so fucking beautiful! How the hell did he get so lucky for all of this to happen to him? His mom asking him to bake a pecan pie for Thanksgiving dinner was probably the best coincidence to ever happen to him.

“Everyone in the city can see us, can’t they?” Bridgette has finished pulling the curtain back. Sean realizes she’s absolutely right. On top of a hill overlooking the busy downtown, there’s no doubt anyone who happened to look up at this condo building at this moment would have a perfect view of this porno being shot. Oh God, what if someone he knew were seeing this now?

“You’re such a voyeuristic lady, aren’t you?” She’s surprised Sean is able to adequately carry on a coherent conversation.

“I am. So let’s give them a show!” Bridgette turns around, puts her hands against a railing in front of the window, bends over forward and spreads her legs wide open. Sean could see her soaking wet vagina and enlarged clitoris dripping with moisture all the way to the carpet. Her readiness arouses him further.

It’s time to act. Fuck it. Fuck all of it. Fuck all his failed relationships. Fuck his dead end job. Fuck every single time he’s been rejected for anything in his life. It’s time to fuck all if it and fuck this gorgeous female bodybuilder in front of a worldwide audience. It’s time to show the world that I’m a Man and I deserve to be here with her. It’s time to act–

“Shit! Stop stalling! I’m fucking dripping over here! Did you hear me? Go on and fuck me, Goddammit!”

Sean immediately returns back to his senses. His eyes sharpen. His focus is singular.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Sean goes to her and grips her hips with both hands. Jimmy is filming them from the right side. Sean could almost hear the camera buzzing. It’s now or never. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. He pokes her sensitive passageway with his index finger and explores her wetness. Bridgette moans. Feeling bold, he puts a second finger inside her and prods further. Her breathing intensifies. Jimmy gets down on one knee so he can get a better angle of her vagina. Sean, desiring to show the world he can be the Greatest Lover in the Universe, delicately pushes a third finger inside her. His fingers move quicker. He knows he’s found her G-spot when a loud groan escapes from her throat. He’s on fire. He’s feeling empowered. He knows this is his time to shine.

Flavia Crisos. I can't even comprehend her.

Flavia Crisos. I can’t even comprehend her.

“Oh, fuck! God, you are so fucking amazing! More, more, more…” Bridgette moans. Her throaty cries embolden him even more. Sean squats down so he can see better. A fourth finger enters her. Then his thumb. He drives his entire fist inside her outstretched vagina and thrusts it in and out at a deliberate pace. Bridgette’s moans turn to screams. Is she acting? Or is she being real in this moment?

After one final push, Bridgette comes and squirts a small amount of fluid onto his fist. He quickly removes his hand from her vagina and watches a pool of her feminine juices form on the lily white carpet. Out of breath, Bridgette leans against the railing but keeps her legs wide apart. Now, it’s his turn. Sean stands up and grabs his penis. He rubs the head of his manhood against her very wet opening and gradually pushes it until it’s completely in. He moans. She moans back. Jimmy scoots back so he can capture every inch of the action.

“Fuck me.” Bridgette can’t wait any longer. Neither can he.

“My pleasure.”

Methodically at first, but gradually getting faster and faster, Sean thrusts in and out of her in front of the entire city. He pinches her butt cheeks and feels the muscles in her broad back. Bridgette’s grip on the metal railing has not loosened. She might break it in half if she’s not careful!

His pace quickens. His thrusts intensify. Her breathing becomes heavy. Out of nowhere, Sean realizes he’s not wearing protection. Bridgette doesn’t seem concerned by this vulnerability. So he doesn’t worry either.

When the lights are shining the brightest, how would you perform?

When the lights are shining the brightest, how would you perform?

Bridgette brings her legs closer together and squeezes her vagina, tightening herself around him. Sean gasps. He claws his fingers against her back then decides to reach lower and stroke her clit. Fuck! It’s enormous! Her clit is almost the size of a small penis! Sean never imagined he’d ever see a woman so well-endowed in his entire life. He pinches her clit, which makes Bridgette jolt upward. She tosses her head back and growls. He’s surprised she didn’t fly through the roof. Sean’s close to coming, but he knows how to control himself. He wants to make love to her for as long as he possibly could.

As her second orgasm builds toward its finish, she rocks her bottom back and forth to complement his thrusts. Sweat drips off her beautiful face. Jimmy is as still as a statue, capturing every moment of their coupling. Even Maggie seems intrigued by what’s happening. She wonders whether Bridgette is “acting” or if she’s actually enjoying herself. As a 30+ year veteran of the porn industry, she’s seen her share of fake orgasms. But Bridgette’s orgasms look and sound very fucking real!

“Oh, God…” Sean mutters under his breath.

Sean can’t hold it any longer. His pace quickens to a maximum level. Bridgette appears as though she’s going to pass out. Finally, after trying to hold back as much as he can, Sean climaxes and empties himself into her. Bridgette tightens and releases her vaginal muscles once more, prompting her to climax after him. Sean releases into her for what seems like an eternity.

“Mmmmmmm,” Bridgette grumbles. Her grip on the railing loosens.

As Sean’s spasms subside, he continues to caress her muscular back with finesse. Completely spent, Bridgette collapses to the floor and curls up in a ball. Sean falls down with her and massages her six-pack abs. He kisses her neck. She lovingly strokes his softened penis with one hand and fondles her swollen clit with the other. Jimmy is now standing over them, the camera pointed downward. Tony smirks. Lexie smiles. Maggie remains stoned face.

Cut. That’s a wrap.

Bridgette – A Stranger in the Night (part one)

When you think of Bridgette, think about Kris Murrell.

When you think of Bridgette, think about Kris Murrell.

“Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

Sean turns around to see where that voice came from. When he does, his jaw nearly drops.

“Um, pardon me? Are you talking to me?” Sean asks.

On this chilly late November evening, Sean had no intention of being bothered by anyone. Thanksgiving is in two days and he still hasn’t bought the ingredients necessary to make the pecan pie his mother told him to make. Sean’s a big boy, but mommy’s guilt-inducing passive aggressive behavior still cuts deep into his soul.

Sean’s business on this evening was simple. Go to the store and buy what he needs to make this pie. Little did he expect to be accosted by a complete stranger during the short 10-minute walk to his neighborhood market. And especially by this kind of a stranger.

“Yes, I’m talking to you, silly! Who else would I be speaking to?” She looks around and points out that there is absolutely no one else on the sidewalk at this time of night.

This woman, who looks to be anywhere between 30 and 35, is wearing a long wolf grey fur coat that covers her entire figure. With a bright red wool beanie on her head, a lock of blonde hair rests along her left cheek. Her pretty face looks harder around the edges than most women Sean has ever seen. She has a raspy voice that’s husky but unquestionably feminine at the same time.

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be talking to anyone. So, what’s your question?” Sean says.

The woman approaches Sean. He subtly backs away – not out of fear, but out of instinct. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something very intimidating about her. She’s nearly his height and doesn’t appear to be hostile, but she gave off an aura of…intimidation.

“It’s a very unorthodox question, but I must preface it with this: You know what’s happening this Thursday, right?”

Sean blinks.

“Uh, yes. This Thursday is Thanksgiving. Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m referring to. Thanksgiving is, of course, a day for giving thanks, wouldn’t you agree?” A creepy smile flashes across her beautiful face. Can he trust her?

“Thanksgiving is indeed a day of giving thanks, yes,” Sean replies.

“Good. Recently, I decided I wanted to experiment with something. I want to do a favor for you. I want to give you a reason to say “thanks” when this day is over. I want to do something nice for you, even though we’ve never met and you have no reason to trust me,” she says.

A lonely street on a quiet evening.

A lonely street on a quiet evening.

No reason to trust her? She’s got that right! Who the hell is she–

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Sean. Sean Kimura. What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind at all. My name is Bridgette. Pleased to meet you.” She extends her hand and Sean shakes it. Her firm grip surprises him. Wow! She’s strong! Sean has never met a woman with such a powerful handshake.

“Likewise, Bridgette. It’s chilly out here, so I don’t want to be standing outside for long. What’s the favor you want to do for me?”

“The favor I want to do for you can be summarized in the question I’d like to ask you.”

Amused by her stalling tactics, Sean grins back. While it is chilly outside, it’s not as unbearably cold as he suggested. He just wants to see where this unusual conversation is going.

“Ask me the question. If you take any longer, this day may end without me saying “thanks” to you,” Sean jokes. Bridgette chuckles.

“Alright. Will you have sex with me?”

Sean nearly falls over on the sidewalk. Luckily for him, he successfully keeps his balance.

“Uh, excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?”

“Yes, you heard that as clearly as you could possibly hear it. It’s a simple question. Will you have sex with me?”

Sean is silent. Bridgette senses his astonishment and decides to take the lead in this exchange.

“Look, I understand this probably sounds like a joke. But it’s not a joke. I want to have sex with someone tonight. A complete stranger. No strings attached. We don’t have to exchange phone numbers. In fact, we didn’t even have to exchange names. Just a simple roll in the hay. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s as simple as it sounds.” A sudden gust of wind roars by and sweeps the lock of hair across her nose. Watching Bridgette twitch her nose somewhat turns him on.

“Who are you? A philanthropic prostitute?”

Bridgette laughs. Then she suddenly stops and grabs Sean by the shoulders. Demonstrating her strength, Sean is pulled against her and he is helpless to escape her grasp.

That pecan pie sure looks delicious!

That pecan pie sure looks delicious!

“Nice use of alliteration. But I’m not a whore. If you call me a whore again, I swear I’ll kick the living shit out of you, understand?” Sean nods in agreement. Sensing his fear, Bridgette releases him and he almost falls backward.

“I’m…uh, sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, kid. Just listen to me. Here’s the catch. Do you see that dark blue van parked across the street there?” She points to a dark blue van that is indeed parked across the street. Sean nods.

“Good. Inside that van is a small camera crew. Just three people. A camera operator, a sound guy and a lighting girl. The four of us aren’t from around here. We just flew in from L.A. earlier this morning. You want to know what industry we belong to?”

Sean’s head is spinning at a million miles per hour. Did he just walk into an “Inception” style dream?

“No, I have no clue what industry you belong to. What?”

“We work in the porn industry. I’m new to the field, but for the time being, I’m a pornographic actress. Before that I was a professional athlete. But you can only compete in that dog-eat-dog world for so long before you want to blow your brains out. So now I’m doing this.”

Check that. This isn’t “Inception.” This is more like “The Twilight Zone!”

“The concept of our next film project is simple. I go up to a random stranger in the middle of a quiet suburban neighborhood and ask him to have sex with me. You say “yes” and we then return back to our condo where we have sex on camera. Do you see this?” Bridgette points to a lapel microphone attached to her coat. The black mic blended in with her grey fur coat, so Sean didn’t notice it until now.

“This entire conversation has been recorded. In fact, our every movement has been recorded, isn’t that right, Jimmy?” She points to a hedge across the street near the van. A hand pokes out and waves to them. Sean is completely speechless. What the fuck is this all about?

“Jimmy is our cameraman. He’s been in the business for years. To make a long story short, all you have to do is sign a waiver and come with us to the condo we’re renting for the week. We do the deed and we’ll post the video on our website just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. And don’t worry. We’ll blur out your face and even mute your voice so no one will recognize that it’s you. You wouldn’t want your friends and family to know that you’ve starred in a porno, right?”

“No, that wouldn’t be something I’d like them to know about.” Whoa.

“So…what do you say? Are you in?”

Sean looks at the van and the bushes where Jimmy is staked out behind his camera. He looks back at Bridgette and sizes her up. Her big frame suggests she’s either really fat (with a remarkably skinny face) or her fur coat is tremendous in thickness. She’s probably great in bed if she’s a professional porn star. Hm. Why the hell not?

“Yes. Why the hell not? Count me in!” Sean has never been one to take risks, but after being unexpectedly dumped by his long-time girlfriend earlier this year (on Valentine’s Day, if you can believe that!), Sean is definitely in the mood to “rebel” and be a bad boy for once in his life. Enough Mr. Nice Guy. It’s time to be a bad motherfucker.

“Great! Come with us.” Bridgette turns around and leads Sean toward the van. Jimmy gets up out of his crouched position and follows them to the van carrying a large camera over his shoulder. These people are in the porn industry! Holy fuck!

Bridgette opens the van’s side door and ushers Sean inside. The driver, an overweight middle-aged balding man wearing a tacky Hawaiian shirt, shakes his hand as he sits down.

“Hello. I’m Tony. I’m the sound guy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tony. My name is Sean.” Jimmy the cameraman opens the back door and enters. Bridgette closes the door once she settles in.

“And my name is Lexie. I’m the lighting and makeup girl.” Sean looks at Lexie and sees a short and petite black girl who looks like she could still be in high school. He shakes her hand.

“Great. Now that you know everyone, let’s roll,” Bridgette orders. Tony immediately starts up the engine and drives off into the cold dark night. Sean’s fear subsides for now. These people seem very friendly…at least thus far. Once the camera starts to roll for real, who knows what this evening is going to be like?

A beautiful grey fur coat.

A beautiful grey fur coat.

The drive to the condo doesn’t take long. It’s in a swanky part of town that Sean rarely visits. Overseeing the ocean, the condo complex is on top of a hill and looks to be well out of his price range. Sean would go completely broke just living here for a single week!

Bridgette tells him the condo is owned by an ultra-wealthy porn enthusiast who’s out of town for the week. They got this place for free (which is why they chose to film this porno out here instead of down in L.A.) and had unlimited freedom to decorate it ask they’d like. Tony parks the van in the vast parking lot and the five of them get out. Sean marvels at the palatial building that definitely is out of his price range.

They step inside and see a middle-aged woman smoking a cigarette.

“This is Maggie, our producer. She has the form you need to sign,” Bridgette explains as she takes off her shoes. Tony, Jimmy and Lexie disappear inside the condo. Sean is in a daze and still cannot believe what’s happening to him. Maggie shoves a piece of paper in his face.

“Read over it and sign it. Then go upstairs for further instructions,” Maggie coldly instructs.

“Okay, yes ma’am,” Sean replies.

Maggie smirks and continues to smoke her cigarette. Sean tries to hold back a cough. He briefly skims it and silently nods in agreement.

“Everything look good? Great. Sign it.” Maggie hands him a fountain pen and he scribbles his signature on the dotted line. Maggie takes the waiver and disappears into an adjacent room. Bridgette grabs Sean’s hand and escorts him upstairs.

The walk up the long twisted staircase leaves Sean out of breath. Bridgette, on the other hand, hardly breaks a sweat. She takes him to a dressing room on the second (or is it the third or fourth?) floor. The room is filled with mirrors, light bulbs, makeup equipment, hangers, costumes, cans of hairspray and enough foundation to last a Victoria’s Secret photographer for a lifetime. She sits down on a stool and begins to reapply her eyeliner. Sean just stands there, amazed that he’s actually doing this. One moment he’s going out to buy stuff for pecan pie, the next he’s on the verge of becoming an impromptu porn star.

“Are you getting nervous?” Bridgette asks. Methodically putting on her eyeliner, Sean notices she hasn’t taken off her enormous fur coat yet. The room is unbearably hot with all the light bulbs flashing at maximum brightness. What’s her deal?

“No, I’m not nervous. Things are happening way too fast for me to become nervous. I’m more…excited,” Sean begins. “That might not be the right word. This is very surreal.”

She turns to him and smiles. Bridgette crosses her legs and bounces her dark brown furry boot up and down. Sean takes note of how large her calves are. Holy hell! Is that fat or…muscle?

“Of course this is surreal. I don’t blame you for being a little disjointed. If I were you, I’d probably freak out and run as far away from here as possible. Are you ready?” She stands up and looks at Sean eye-to-eye. He blinks twice. She chuckles.

“Uh, sure. I’m ready. Better now than never, right?”

Bridgette slaps him hard on the shoulder. The blunt force of her playful jab almost makes him tumble backward.

“Damn right! Let’s get started. My crew is usually really fast at setting up. They’re all pros. You look great. You’re a handsome boy, Sean,” she says. Sean blushes. It’s not too often that a non-Asian woman calls him “handsome.” That sort of compliment is usually reserved for the Asian girls he dates. But even among them, those kinds of comments are far and few between.

Bridgette grabs his hand and once again leads him to another room. They leave the dressing room, walk down a ridiculously long hallway, make a sharp left turn and enter a new room. The bedroom. Holy shit! This bedroom is bigger than Sean’s entire apartment! The rich sure do know how to live…

Brenda Smith has a gorgeous set of calves.

Brenda Smith has a gorgeous set of calves.

A queen sized bed sits at the end of an arched 180 degree window overlooking the seaside. Fancy curtains, tapestries, artworks and custom-made furniture adorn the room.

Sean’s eyes open wide at the sheer audacity of the bedroom. He sees Tony, Jimmy and Lexie hard at work setting up the scene. Maggie comes in and speaks to Bridgette about something. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. After a few moments, Jimmy announces they’re ready to begin shooting.

“Sound is ready to go,” Tony announces.

“Ditto with the lights. I’m good,” Lexie responds.

“Great! Let’s get this thing started. The great thing about reality-based pornography is that no rehearsal is necessary. Just go with the flow and follow my lead, got it?” Bridgette asks Sean. Sean can only smile and nod. Is there any other appropriate response?

Tony puts on his headset. Maggie and Lexie stand back and watch. Jimmy is behind his camera, which is now mounted on top of a tripod, and gives the “thumbs up” sign. Bridgette’s team is ready to rock and roll.

Lights. Camera. Action.

Halloween is Every Day for Female Bodybuilders

Dena Westerfield wants to suck your blood!

Dena Westerfield wants to suck your blood!

Every October 31 we celebrate a very odd holiday. People of all ages dress up in costumes, artistically carve up pumpkins, attend spooky themed parties and/or wander around their neighborhoods begging strangers to hand out candy.

No candy? No problem! Unless, of course, you don’t mind your house getting egged, toilet papered or surrounded by flaming piles of dog feces.

The concept of Halloween, according to experts in folklore, dates back to Celtic “pagan” traditions of welcoming in the harvest season. Halloween also might be rooted in Festival of the Dead-type traditions where people honor their dead relatives and usher them into the Afterlife. In the United States, a Catholic-inspired Cajun tradition began in the early days of North America to spend a nocturnal Mass at graveyards to bless the souls of the deceased.

Getting a creepy vibe already?

But today, let’s face it. Halloween is all about having a socially acceptable reason to dress up in silly costumes, watch scary movies and eat too much sugary candy. Plus, Halloween sort of officially kicks off the “holiday season” which includes Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s.

Some costumes range from the innocent to more “adult.” Some people will go as doctors, firefighters, kittens or Spider-Man; while other will choose the more family-friendly route and become a stripper, dominatrix or slutty nurse.

Whatever. Your choice of costume is your choice alone, as long as the company you work for doesn’t have any strict policies against publicly embarrassing yourself.

Now this is one Halloween party I'd like to attend! Here we have Annie Rivieccio, Aleesha Young and Alina Popa.

Now this is one Halloween party I’d like to attend! Here we have Annie Rivieccio, Aleesha Young and Alina Popa.

We dress up because it’s fun to pretend to be something we’re not, even if only temporarily. As kids, we wanted to be Superman and Wonder Woman. So if we dress up like them, isn’t that close enough to living out our dreams?

Perhaps, but there’s another reason why we dress up: to celebrate Halloween’s macabre roots. Zombies, vampires, serial killers, ghosts, goblins, ghouls, monsters and politicians are all par for the course. Who doesn’t like to channel their inner Jason Voorhees or reenact a scene from Night of the Living Dead? Whatever is most frightening is often the most fun.

These two reasons might explain why, as absurd as this may sound, for a female bodybuilder every day is Halloween. Every day is their chance to “dress up” and become something different. To become something superhuman, unworldly and strange. Many fans of female bodybuilders may not consider the presence of a muscular woman to be “ghoulish,” but unfortunately some people out there do. So let’s celebrate Halloween this year by paying tribute to the ladies we love 365 days a year.

Her body is her costume

Every single time an FBB goes to the gym to train, isn’t she essentially creating the “costume” that she’ll wear every single day of her life? Except in this case, her costume is her own body. It doesn’t consist of hats, tights or capes; but instead muscles, veins and sharp angular curves.

It takes a lot of work to achieve the physique of a Katka Kpytova or Alina Popa. Strict dieting, strenuous weightlifting, supplements, drugs, mental toughness, hardcore dedication and sacrifices are necessary to reach that level of muscularity. Not too many people in this world are that dedicated to their craft. But those who are should be very proud of their work.

When a woman builds bulk on her body, she’s making a decision to sculpt a better version of herself. She’s changing her identity. She’s breaking the mold of convention and embracing the nontraditional. Whether she intends to compete or not is irrelevant. The desire to gain maximum muscularity is a statement unto itself. It says “I’m reinventing myself, whether you like it or not.”

The concept of reinventing one’s self through the lifestyle of bodybuilding is fascinating. If our “traditional” idea of femininity includes slender arms, lush curves and a small frame, a female bodybuilder tosses all of that out the window. Her rebooted identity defies these norms while at the same time creating new ones. “Feminine” doesn’t have to be a euphemism for “weak.” It can mean so much more.

Her muscles are what define this new identity. Because muscles are not typically associated with femininity, women like Debi Laszewski are not seen as traditional women even though their womanhood hasn’t changed one iota. Deep down inside, Debi has always been Debi. Even before she took up bodybuilding, Debi was Debi. Now that she’s a world class athlete, she’s still Debi.

You don't want to get on Maribel Barnes's bad side!

You don’t want to get on Maribel Barnes’s bad side!

Think of it this way: the mere presence of muscles on a woman’s body doesn’t change anything about her. Whether someone changes their appearance for the better or for the worst, who they are intrinsically doesn’t change. Yes, an FBB may gain more confidence during her training, but her inherent identity hasn’t been altered by a single degree. Everyone has an identity. Your body’s appearance is just one facet of that.

In this respect, a female bodybuilder’s muscles act as her “costume” or “uniform.” To put it another way, a football player becomes a football player once they put on their pads, helmet, shoes and protective gear. When it’s not game time and they’re dressed in “street clothes” out in everyday life, they’re no longer a football player. They’re just like you and I. Sometimes, the uniform makes all the difference.

Likewise, an FBB’s muscles acts as her professional uniform. It informs us about who she is and what she does. But that’s not all that there is to her. She’s so much more than her appearance. Her thoughts, feelings, beliefs, actions, relationships, opinions, interests and everything else encompasses her entire identity. Her body is just the uniform she wears as a result of her chosen profession.

Like other self-revealing occupational uniforms (a construction worker’s hat, a doctor’s smock, a radio DJ’s headset, etc.), a female bodybuilder’s muscular body is an instantly identifiable clue as to what she does for a living. It’s her way of announcing to the world what she’s passionate about. It’s an outward expression of self-identification. Her muscles are her costume. Her muscles are her uniform. Her muscles are not her entire identity, but it’s a very important part of it.

Her body as a grotesque costume

It’s maddening. It’s ridiculous. It’s blatantly sexist and stupid. But this train of thought still exists: Muscular women are gross. They’re disgusting. They’re not real women. They’re women who are trying to become men. They’re revolting to look at. They shouldn’t look like that. Blah, blah, blah.

While the previous point talks about a female bodybuilder’s muscles being her living costume, this point discusses her muscles as other people perceive them. Unfortunately, not everyone perceives them in a positive light.

For many people, an FBB’s muscles make her a monster. It makes her a freak. It changes her identity, but not in a good way. It’s scary, frightening, disturbing, repulsive and lots of other synonyms that would tear a thesaurus in half. Her Halloween costume resembles that of a horror movie villain rather than an elite athlete. These perceptions explain why more women don’t lift weights at the gym and are afraid to pick up a dumbbell heavier than 8 pounds.

I've never seen the film "Blood + Kisses" starring Denise Masino, but I'm sure she's very sexy in it!

I’ve never seen the film “Blood + Kisses” starring Denise Masino, but I’m sure she’s very sexy in it!

Thus, another reason why every day is Halloween for female bodybuilders is because for many folks out there, an FBB is a walking and breathing humanistic monstrosity of distorted femininity. Her Halloween costume is her “man-like” muscles that obviously make her so unattractive. Whether her motivation for gaining muscle mass has anything to do with a deliberate attempt at reorganizing her gender identity has nothing to do with this perception. For far too many people, a muscular woman is nothing more than a woman pretending to be a man (or to put it another way, she’s “unnatural” for looking like that).

Or, wanting to become a man. Short of undergoing gender reconstruction surgery, adding muscle bulk to her body is the next best option. This opinion is far from being the most popular reason why women decide to pursue bodybuilding. Most do it for the sport. Others do it for self-empowerment. For many, it might be a “hobby,” but one that they take a bit more seriously than knitting or collecting postage stamps.

For the men and women out there who are genuinely sickened by muscular women…well, that’s life. There’s very little that will change overnight. They might view her like a sci-fi creature from a mad scientist’s laboratory, but the rest of us know better. It’s only a matter of time when women like Lisa Cross are celebrated as much as mainstream female celebrities like Jennifer Lawrence.

If Tina Chandler wanted to arrest me...yeah, I'd let her.

If Tina Chandler wanted to arrest me…yeah, I’d let her.

Trick or treat?

Just so we don’t end this discussion on a sour note, imagine this scenario playing out in your actual life:

You’re going out trick-or-treating. Let’s say you’re an adult, but you live in a neighborhood where it’s socially acceptable for grownups to knock on doors and ask for candy. It’s getting late, so you know it’s about time to start wrapping up this confection excursion. You have one house left to visit. It’s nearing 9 p.m. (your self-imposed bedtime is 9:30 for whatever boring reason) and your bag of candy is still not completely full.

You knock on the door of a strange brick house standing on the top of a steep hill. It’s covered with moss, ivy, chipped paint and cobwebs. You’re alone. Your heart races but you’re still insisting on gathering as much sweet loot as possible. You approach the house cautiously. You knock once. No answer. You knock twice. Still no answer. You knock thrice. Once again, there is no answer. You wait a beat. Then two beats. Then three. Several more beats pass by, then you finally give up and start to walk back to the main street. Then, out of nowhere, you hear the door open. It creeks loudly. You turn around. And you see who answers the door.

Monica Martin. MEOW!

Monica Martin. MEOW!

It’s not one, nor two, nor three, but seven gorgeous female bodybuilders having some sort of a spooky soiree. They’re all in costume, ranging from Elvira to a cannibalistic Nazi zombie stripper to a trial lawyer. Seven tall, thick, highly muscular women with the most beautiful faces you’ve ever seen. They seem intrigued by you. They look you up and down at your wimpy frame and even wimpier costume. A glow-in-the-dark cartoon skeleton? Seriously? That’s the best you could do?

The host FBB speaks first.

“Are you here to trick-or-treat?” she asks. Her low, gravelly voice seems to shake the foundations of the Earth.

“Uh, yes. That’s why I’m here ma’am,” you answer timidly.

The seven start to laugh. You might have heard laughter from several other female bodybuilders inside the house that you can’t see. The leader raises a hand to hush everyone up. Everyone becomes silent. But their gaze is still exclusively on you.

“Good,” she begins. “Then you should come on in. We’ve got a very big treat for you.”

The seven FBBs move to the side of the door, inviting you indoors. You can clearly see that the house is infested with beautiful muscular women, all of them more muscular and more beautiful than the rest. There must be several dozens of them in there. Their costumes are very sexy. Everyone is scorching hot beyond description. You’re speechless.

But you go inside nevertheless. The door closes behind you. The party commences.

Happy Halloween!

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?