The Female Muscle Dark Web

Faceless hooded anonymous computer hacker

You’ve just entered the Matrix…er, the Dark Web!

Deep within the shadowy depths of the Internet, there exists a dark and mysterious space where few dare to tread. You may have heard of it, or perhaps you’re hearing about it for the first time. No matter what, you’re scared to acknowledge it. You’re frightened to visit it. You cannot wrap your mind around why it exists in the first place. Its very existence is a conundrum to you, a macabre riddle that cannot easily be solved.

To attempt to understand this enigmatic space is to dip your toes into a New World that you never knew existed. Even if you’ve already heard of it, there is nothing that can prepare your mind for what is to come. No one is ever “ready,” even those who claim to be. No one.

And once you discover this New World, your mind is changed forever. Your attitude is permanently adjusted. Your worldview flips upside down. Your paradigm doesn’t just shift; it shatters into a billion pieces and is unable to reform itself. You aren’t sure if you would ever want to go back, but that debate is now over. You’re past that threshold, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Resistance is futile. That’s for damn sure.

What type of Internet space am I referring to? Shouldn’t the answer be obvious by now?

Of course, I’m talk about…

…Bronies.

Grown men who adore “My Little Pony,” a Hasbro-developed entertainment franchise aimed at little girls. Apparently, there are adult men – at least, they claim to be adult men – who are into this sort of thing. Very into it.

Wait. That might not be right. Maybe I’m talking about furries? “Twilight” fan fiction? Uh, people who actually liked the Star Wars prequels?

Nah. That’s been done before. Nothing to see here. Move along now. Outside of activities that are clearly criminal, there aren’t a whole lot of fetishes, strange fandoms, and social perspectives that we, as a whole, won’t tolerate. Chalk that up to our “live and let live” attitude that, for the most part, still permeates throughout our society. You don’t need to “approve” or “understand” these subcultures to acknowledge that it’s fine that they exist as long as no one gets hurt.

Arguably, the very concept of “common culture” is starting to go by the wayside. Sure, there will always be things that unite us as a culture – at least temporarily. The Super Bowl, the release of a new Marvel movie, and catchy pop songs are a few examples (this, despite the fact that sports is becoming increasingly more politicized in the wake of high profile protests during the singing of the American national anthem). However, what’s becoming a more significant facet of modern life is the growing acceptance of subcultures as acceptable off-shoots of our main culture.

Dark web - Angela Salvagno

Angela Salvagno chatting with her fans through webcam.

For example, once upon a time ago drag culture was an underground subculture that existed out of sight and out of mind for the majority of us. Today, it’s still not quite a “mainstream” culture (properly understood), but it lives just outside that bubble. Or, it lives tangentially within mainstream culture. Or on the fringes of our main culture. Or, drag performers like RuPaul have one foot inside main culture and the other food inside the drag subculture. RuPaul’s popular TV show certainly contributed to the evolution of drag going from “out of sight, out of mind” to “not quite out of sight, not quite out of mind.”

Female bodybuilding fandom, on the other hand, is still considered an underground subculture. While going to a strip bar or smoking weed are still fairly taboo activities, they’re not as taboo as they once were. You don’t need to “approve” of what goes on inside a strip club, but you can accept it existing right next to your favorite nail salon. You don’t need to like the smell of marijuana at a public park, but that won’t stop you from walking your dog along his or her favorite dirt path. Just try to avoid the odor if you must.

Yet, engaging in a muscle worship session with a female bodybuilder is not like going to a nudie bar or getting high while watching reruns of All in the Family. It’s not a very well-known activity. In our mainstream culture, female bodybuilders are nowhere close to being within an ear shot. Thus, for those of us who love FBBs, the Internet is the only place where we can enjoy our mutual love for them.

Is there such a thing as the “Female Muscle Dark Web?” Eh, sort of. But not really.

There are popular websites like HDphysiques.com, saradas.org, sexymusclegirls.com, wb270.com, areaorion.blogspot.com, and sessiongirls.com. Heck, a small number of you might consider my humble blog to be among them. I’m also a fan of Female Muscle Slave. He’s an incredible blogger who is keenly tuned-in to the competitive side of the industry in addition to the fandom side of the industry. Check him out if you haven’t already.

So are there popular female muscle-themed websites where fans gather to congregate? Sure. Does that qualify as a “Dark Web?” Meh, probably not.

Hold on. Before we proceed any further, let’s try to define what the “Dark Web” actually means.

The terms “Dark Web” and “Deep Web” sometimes get used interchangeably. This shouldn’t be the case. Technically speaking, the “Deep Web” is a portion of the Internet that exists below the Surface Web. The Surface Web are things like Amazon.com, Facebook.com, Twitter.com, NFL.com, ESPN.com, StarWars.com, Reddit.com, and any other “normal” website you come across every day. These websites – and countless others that aren’t as popular – are indexed by Google and other search engines for easy access. The idea of the “Surface Web” doesn’t need too much explaining.

However, beneath the Surface Web exists a whole host of websites that aren’t indexed by these search tools. The concept of the Deep Web includes all the websites that are intentionally (or unintentionally) hidden from traditional search applications. Most of them are beta sites or old websites that have gone out of commission. Most of it is useless junk. Most of it is boring.

Dark web - Callie Bundy

Callie Bundy has become sort of a mini Internet “celebrity” due to her Instagram page.

Some of it can be exciting. Or useful. Journalists and human rights activists who live in repressive regimes use channels like Tor that are outside of the Surface Web to network with peers in other countries. How do you think we’re aware of the diabolical starvation methods employed by the Kim regime in North Korea or the anti-theocratic movement in Iran?

That being said, there’s a portion of the Deep Web that is a bit more, uh, scandalous. This includes websites where you can sell and purchase illegal guns, stolen credit cards, drugs (both narcotics and prescription medication), child pornography (and other kinds of illegal pornography), leads to hired assassins, and anything else you can think of that you can’t exactly find at your local Target.

This is what is meant by the Dark Web. Dark, scary, frightening, unethical, illegal, and potentially deadly. Terrorist organizations like ISIS and al-Qaeda communicate with each other through Dark Web channels. So do Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other extremist groups that are under FBI surveillance.

Not exactly the type of stuff that you want your Grandma to know you’re into.

To be clear, female muscle fandom exists solely on the Surface Web. I highly doubt much of it exists below that. And if any of it does, it’s probably there for a reason. By and large, female muscle fandom can be found through a simple Google search. No need to go further than that. Thanks to Instagram, our access to our favorite FBBs, fitness models, and weightlifting enthusiasts is more open than ever before. Thanks to video curating sites, I can watch endless footage of Denise Masino playing with her clit without having to put on my detective hat. Of course, such videos shouldn’t be viewed during work hours or on your office computer.

Yet, FBB fandom remains an Internet subculture. An Internet subculture that can be found on the Surface Web. So while the so-called “Female Muscle Dark Web” isn’t really a thing, we can use it euphemistically to describe the forums where this subculture is alive and well.

Dark web - Lindsay Mulinazzi

Not following Lindsay Mulinazzi on Instagram? Shame on you!

In many ways, the Internet is the only substantial place where female muscle fandom can happen. Not too many of us get to attend bodybuilding shows. Only a small number of us have the expenses, inclination, and opportunity to meet an FBB for a muscle worship or fantasy wrestling session. So when it comes to experiencing these beautiful women, our computer screen and smartphone are really the only avenues in which we can do that. I can easily go to my local shopping mall and purchase a brand new Star Trek shirt. I cannot easily go to that same mall and find any paraphernalia affiliated with female bodybuilders.

This is why many FBBs utilize social media as much as they can. It’s their best way to connect with their fans. Or to put it another way, it’s the only way they can regularly connect with their fans. Many FBBs offer webcam appointments, AMA chats (“ask me anything”), and members-only content through their personal websites. This is a classic example of meeting your clients where they’re at. Why break your back working a traditional 9-5 job when you can easily make $100 per hour just chatting with a bunch of strangers from the comfort of your living room?

The Female Muscle Industrial Complex – a term that apparently I just coined – is a niche market with a fairly undefined consumer base. In any given city, town, or municipality, you could have 200 female muscle fans, 2,000 female muscle fans, or 20,000 female muscle fans. You don’t know exactly. But it doesn’t matter where they are geographically. It doesn’t even matter what language they speak. The only thing that does matter is whether or not they have Internet access and enough privacy to feel “safe” to experience their love of muscular women. That’s it, practically speaking.

The Female Muscle Dark Web isn’t dark, nor is it just confined to the web. But it is a real space full of real people who share a mutual interest in women with lots of muscle. And this space hasn’t been driven underground by some prudish cabal of anti-FBB misogynists. In fact, it’s always been underground. Or rather, not within the mainstream. Just because something isn’t considered “mainstream” doesn’t mean there’s some massive conspiracy to ensure it remains outside of the mainstream. Some things just don’t pick up steam. Some things are just destined to stay put where they are.

This isn’t a tragedy by any stretch of the imagination. Muscular women will always be here, regardless if mainstream bodybuilding organizations want them included or not. As long as there are women who desire to become a better version of their current selves, female bodybuilders will always be with us. As long as there are women who believe being “strong” and “independent” means being something beyond a simple corporatized rallying cry, FBBs will never die out. The demise of female bodybuilding has been greatly exaggerated. I don’t see any evidence of that happening anytime soon.

Dark web - Goddess Severa

The 6’5″ Goddess Severa is a fan favorite of female muscle/dominance enthusiasts.

Long story short, FBBs and fans of FBBs cannot wait for legacy media outlets to give them their due. It just won’t happen. Sports Illustrated or ESPN aren’t going to cover female bodybuilders (or male bodybuilders, for that matter) like they do basketball or football stars. Those athletes enjoy a powerful perch that doesn’t appear to be eroding. To expect FBBs to ever be mentioned in the same breath as Kevin Durant, Serena Williams, or Julio Jones is folly.

So the obscure and not-so-sinister parts of the web are where FBBs are allowed to shine. And fans don’t seem to mind all that much. Some of us may hope and pray for a day when FBBs can enjoy mainstream status as any normal celebrity would, but most of us aren’t holding our breaths. And the good new is that we don’t need to.

Our access to our favorite athletes is as open and easy as it’s ever been. Just because you don’t feel comfortable talking about Alina Popa’s glutes or Theresa Ivancik’s pecs openly at Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t mean you have a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed that you are secretly into that sort of thing. On the contrary, you have nothing to worry about. You can be into muscular women without having to tell a single soul about it. That should feel liberating. But if you do want to tell somebody about it, you know where to look. And that can also feel liberating.

Your female muscle community is just a few clicks away. Like it or love it, you can choose to engage in this community, or you can choose to ignore them and keep your interests to yourself.

Either way, it’s your choice. And that’s truly liberating.

Advertisements

What is Your Female Muscle Holy Grail?

Gold Chalice In Altar With A Ray Of Divine Light

The Holy Grail: You have chosen wisely!

From King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table to Indiana Jones, everyone seems to want to get their hands on the Holy Grail. The journey to acquire such a coveted treasure is full of peril, challenging our heroes to face such dangers like bloodthirsty armies, treacherous terrain, nefarious double-crossers, and the dreaded Knights Who Say Ni.

The Holy Grail is famous for allegedly being the cup that Jesus drank from at the Last Supper. Joseph of Arimathea then used it to collect Christ’s blood at the Crucifixion. You don’t need to be very religious to know that this object – whether it actually existed or not – is an immeasurably valuable treasure. There’s no need to get into the etymological history of the term “Holy Grail” because it’s complicated, hotly debated, and ultimately boring.

In today’s parlance, we use the expression “Holy Grail” to describe any object or achievement that we consider to be most important to us. Examples include winning the Super Bowl, getting accepted into an Ivy League university, scoring a date with the hottest cheerleader in school, climbing to the top of Mount Everest, or meeting your favorite celebrity. Sometimes we achieve these goals. Most of the time we never even sniff the possibility of accidentally achieving these goals. Life goes on.

For female muscle fans, we have our own version of the Holy Grail. Hidden deep within our imaginations, we fantasize about certain things that we can only picture in our minds. Occasionally, we are fortunate enough to actually be able to live out these fantasies. But more often than not, they remain just that: fantasies. Situations we conjure up inside our brains that never come to pass.

But let’s not go down this dour path. Instead, let’s celebrate our female muscle fandom by sharing what our personal “Female Muscle Holy Grail” is. I shall start with a few suggestions from my own personal playbook:

Holy Grail - Denise Masino

Denise clearly isn’t shy about showing off her greatest physical asset.

  1. Giving Denise Masino cunnilingus

My love for Denise Masino should not be a surprise to anyone. She’s currently my favorite female bodybuilder of all time, mostly for reasons that have little to do with her actual record as a competitive bodybuilder. I wrote a blog post in which I expressed my love for Ms. Masino. I recommend you check it out when you have a spare moment.

Denise is famous (or is it infamous?) not just for her beauty, strength, charm, sexiness, confidence, muscularity, femininity, compassion, and spiritedness. She’s also renowned for what exists between her legs. Between her thick tree trunk legs, Denise boasts the most beautiful genitalia in the world. Think that’s a really bizarre thing to say? It is, but if you have an appreciation for the finer things in life, you’d understand.

For the record, Denise isn’t shy about showing off her most prized asset. In fact, she proudly displays it in most of the videos she produces for her website. She isn’t reticent about the fact she has a larger-than-normal clitoris, thick meaty labia, and a bright pink vagina that seemingly glistens at all times. She understands full well that there are plenty of guys and gals out there who adore her genitalia and can’t get enough of it. We crave it like it’s an addictive drug.

So this isn’t a weird thing to fantasize about. Nor do I think she’d be embarrassed to accidentally stumble upon this post and read about some random guy’s thoughts about it. Denise has made a steady income exploiting (or treating us to) her most famous physical trait. And I don’t judge her at all for it. If you got it, flaunt it. If you have a talent or asset that makes you money, by all means ride that donkey as far as you can. Thankfully for us, she does exactly that with a bright smile on her pretty face.

Being able to perform cunnilingus on Miss Masino would be a dream come true. Her clit is heavenly, one of the best in the world. It’s certainly one of the most famous in the world. Female muscle fans can dispute who possesses the “best” meat between her legs, but Denise should be on the top of everyone’s list – if such a list were to exist. If there ever comes a time when I can attain this Holy Grail of Female Muscle Fandom, I could die right then and there a happy man. I probably speak for many of you too.

Can you imagine spending hours feasting on Denise’s beautiful bits while listening to her passionate moans of orgasm? Music to our ears!

Holy Grail - Alina Popa

Queen Alina in prime form.

  1. Touching Alina Popa’s entire body

Queen Alina is the Undisputed Goddess of Female Bodybuilding. She may not necessarily be my personal favorite, but she doesn’t have to be. Alina is a special breed of woman. Her charm, beauty, impressive muscularity, femininity, and accomplishments (both on stage and off stage) are second to none. She’s incredible.

What makes her noteworthy, however, is her remarkable muscle control. She can bounce her pecs, biceps, quads, and glutes like no one else. Her ability to completely isolate her individual muscles and flex them for the leering camera is unprecedented. If there’s someone else who can match her in this arena, please let me know!

Therefore, I’d love to touch every single inch of Alina’s gorgeous body. I want to feel her bicep peaks. I want to cup her glutes and squeeze them. I want to rub her quads, hamstrings, and calves with baby oil and see them shine brightly. I’d love to lay down in bed with the Queen and spend all evening worshiping her muscles. I’d take my time. No need to rush things. No need to hurry. This worship session should take as long as it needs to.

Which, ideally, would be a very, very long time.

Her pretty face. Her massive chest. Her broad back. Her meaty thighs. I’d ask her to flex each individual muscle and marvel at her keen ability to make them dance. “Alina’s Dancing Glutes” may not sound like a punk band you’d like to see in concert, but they’re definitely a sacred piece of flesh that deserves to be appreciated with divine reverence.

Witnessing her muscle control in person would alone be worth the price of admission. To be able to place my fingers onto her flawless physique would make that a once-in-a-lifetime bargain deal. Oh boy.

Holy Grail - Karen Zaremba

You can wash your entire wardrobe on Karen Zaremba’s abs.

  1. Feeling Karen Zaremba’s abs

This Holy Grail fantasy is probably 10-15 years too late, but oh well. When my female muscle awakening began in 2005 (it actually started a few years before that, but this was when my interest in female bodybuilders skyrocketed), Karen Zaremba was one of the first women I discovered. I clearly remember the countless hours I spent sitting at my computer in my dorm room watching videos of Miss Zaremba strutting around in a bikini over and over again.

I made sure my roommate didn’t see what I was watching, of course. But I still managed to ensure my Karen Zaremba fandom remained prolific.

Other than her gorgeous face and heavenly bronzed physique, Karen is best known for her abdominal muscles. Wow! She didn’t have a six-pack. She had an eight-pack. Or a ten-pack. Or something like that. Yowza!

Karen was my first favorite FBB. Was it strange that she’s more than twenty years my senior? Probably, but that didn’t matter one iota. It is unusual for a teenage boy to be enamored with a woman in her 40s, but in the privacy of my own imagination, nothing is taboo. It was perfectly normal. As it should have been!

Miss Zaremba had abs that were the dictionary definition of “washboard.” You could clearly see the grooves between each individual muscle. You could pour a glass of water onto her stomach and the deep grooves of her abs would catch every drop of it.

I fantasized about being able to put my tongue in between those grooves and lick her abs to my heart’s delight. I still think about such things today, even though Karen has retired from bodybuilding and probably isn’t nearly as muscular anymore. Like I said earlier, this fantasy is a couple of decades too late, but never mind that. Karen will always remain a sentimental favorite of mine, no matter what she chooses to do with her life moving forward. I really like her and still do.

Holy Grail - Cindy Landolt

Cindy Landolt looking divine.

  1. Making love to Cindy Landolt all night long

Oh Cindy. Cindy, Cindy, Cindy. The Muscle Goddess of Zurich is probably the most Beautiful Female Bodybuilder of All Time. She’s the total package. She’s not as large as Alina or as outwardly erotic as Denise, but she’s impeccably sculpted and as gorgeous as a supermodel.

Cindy speaks fluent English with an accent, which is something that lots of American guys find irresistibly hot. I don’t care which corner of the world she’s from or what language she speaks. Cindy is a flawless woman who redefines beauty. She’s a perfect “gateway” FBB who combines traditional femininity with nontraditional muscle mass. She can have crossover appeal for both guys (and gals) who love female bodybuilders and those who are still “FBB-skeptics.”

She doesn’t “look like a man” or a “manly woman.” She looks as feminine as that cute cheerleader you had a crush on in high school. She could be on the cover of fashion magazines and you wouldn’t blink – if not for her large muscles, that is. I think she has universal appeal. I’m guessing there are plenty of folks out there who would agree with me on that.

I fantasize about spending an entire evening with Miss Landolt in a secluded cabin somewhere deep in the mountains. After a tasty meal and drinking an entire bottle of champagne, we light up the fireplace and watch the amber glow fill the room. We kiss. We whisper. We eventually undress. We walk to the bedroom hand-in-hand. We turn off all the lights, silence our phones, and ignore the outside world for the next twelve hours. Nothing matters except for the two of us.

Moonlight romantically streams through the window. Perhaps it’s snowing lightly. The sky is peaceful. It is quiet everywhere. We crack open the window and let the dual sensations of cold air and heat from the fireplace greet out naked bodies. We then make love all night long. We consummate our love in every way imaginable. Maybe we make love for an hour, maybe three hours, maybe literally all night long.

We make love in bed, in the shower, downstairs next to the fireplace, on the staircase, perhaps even outside. It may be chilly, but the heat from our joining bodies cancels out any discomfort that would cause. She showcases for me her stamina, sexual appetite, and sensual imagination. I indulge in everything she desires to do together. It’s a night to remember, one neither of us will ever forget.

It’s pure bliss.

Holy Grail - Deidre Pagnanelli

Deidre slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaying!

  1. Stroking Deidre Pagnanelli’s gorgeous face

This is a fantasy that might also be a few years too late, but that’s totally irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact that Deidre is still one of the most beautiful women on the planet. I’ve probably said that about at least a half dozen other women, but this time I mean it.

Maybe.

Deidre is a 40-something mother of four children – yes, you read that right – who was one of the hottest fitness models of the 90s. Oh wait, she’s still one of the hottest fitness models out there. My mistake. Deidre looks like a supermodel and carries herself like one too. Even if she weren’t muscular, she’d still be world famous. And deservedly so.

She possesses an absolutely gorgeous face. Stunning. Jaw-dropping. Mesmerizing. Captivating. Enthralling. Intoxicating. Her natural beauty is incomprehensible. It’s difficult to imagine how someone could actually be that beautiful. But she is. She’s so beautiful you cannot help but stop dead in your tracks when you see her. To see her is to reject everything you previously thought about female beauty. It’s not too often that you observe a woman who is so gorgeous your brain struggles to process it.

“Did I just see that? Is Deidre Pagnanelli a real person? Or is she an animated avatar that existed in some guy’s imagination?”

Nope. She’s real. She’s damn real. And we’re all better off for it.

If I were to be blessed with having an intimate moment with Deidre, I would definitely want to do all the activities that have been described previously. That goes without saying. But if I had to choose a unique “holy grail” activity to do with her, it would be to stroke her face.

Her cheek. Her jawline. Her mouth. Her lips. Her nose. Her eyelashes. Her forehead. I’d touch it all, in an effort to appreciate her aesthetic beauty in the most tactile way possible. It’s one thing to see it, it’s quite another thing to experience it.

Her divine beauty deserves to be tangibly acknowledged. To feel her flawless face is to be one step closer to Heaven. I’m still on earth (technically), but I might as well be in the Afterlife. Even in her 40s (she may be approaching her 50s!), Deidre has not lost any of her beauty. She isn’t “fading.” In fact, she’s getting more beautiful as time goes on. She’s aging better than most people – male and female alike – are realistically able to. Even if her face contains a few wrinkles and crow’s feet, they just add depth to her beauty. They tell us that no matter how old she gets, Deidre deserves a special place in our hearts.

To see her is to stare into the face of God. At this point, I don’t know if there’s much of a difference.

***

Alright, what’s your Female Muscle Holy Grail? Let me know in the comments below or send me an email at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com. I’d love to hear from you and get this conversation going!

The Vulnerable Female Bodybuilder

The seemingly invincible Ginger Martin.

Female bodybuilders are strong. They seem invincible. Unstoppable. Powerful. Authoritative. A force of nature. One who shall not be reckoned with.

If you mess with her, she’ll mess with you. And you don’t want that to happen to you. Trust us.

Fans of female bodybuilders have put these ladies onto a pedestal, one in which they don’t seem to be human. FBBs are often described in quasi-spiritual terms; using words such as “goddess,” “angel,” or “queen.” These words evoke ethereal images of immortals walking amongst men. FBBs are somehow not human because a “normal” human can never actually look that breathtakingly beautiful. Regular human beings are not able to make your heart skip a beat, your jaw drop to the floor, and a chill run down your spine just by simply posting an untouched photo of themselves on Instagram.

But alas, many FBBs are able to do just that. Many times over, in fact.

Yet, in the back of our minds we know that FBBs are not actually goddesses. They are flesh and blood human beings with feelings, thoughts, fears, insecurities, families, hobbies, and faults. We know that intellectually, on a theoretical level. But emotionally, we cannot help but view these ladies as invulnerable angels whose unique beauty somehow endow them with some sort of shield against typical human imperfections.

In our fantasies, our favorite FBBs are warriors who can slay thousands of enemies at a time. They’re powerful deities who can make the most formidable kingdoms tremble to their knees. They’re sirens who can enslave men to do their will. They’re so breathtakingly beautiful you cannot imagine a moment when they’d ever be sad, intimidated, or not in control.

Yet…

…yet we know the reality of things is much more mundane. But we don’t want to think about that. We’d rather focus on an FBB’s perfections instead of her basic humanity. However, it is worthwhile to keep this important point in mind: Female bodybuilders are much more vulnerable than you’d think.

Here’s why:

First, female bodybuilders exist in a world that doesn’t always accept them for who they are.

The aesthetic of a woman with big muscles certainly excites some of us, but not all of us. As incomprehensible as this sounds, not everyone appreciates the beauty of female bodybuilders. Some are disgusted by a nontraditional feminine figure that doesn’t fit into the narrow box society has come to define. This could be caused by people not liking what they’re not familiar with, but it goes deeper than that.

They’re disgusted because the sight of veins popping out of a muscular arm isn’t terribly appealing – regardless of the gender of the person it belongs to. But especially if it’s a female arm. We’re taught to believe that a beautiful woman should be smooth, angular, and soft. Female bodybuilders are not smooth, angular, and soft. They’re rough, bulky, and coarse. Their bodies do not fit within the acceptable parameters society (properly understood, that is) has arbitrarily established. And because of that, female bodybuilders are always at a disadvantage when it comes to breaking into the entertainment and modeling industries. Even the fitness industry seems to prefer the “fit” look instead of the hypermuscular look.

This lack of acceptance has pushed the female bodybuilding community underground, away from mainstream attention. Is there any need to bring up the unfortunate demise of the Ms. Olympia contest?

Of course, there will always be the token role in a sitcom for a “muscle chick” who shows up, looks menacing, and does something comedic to the male star like kick his ass or wallop him at arm wrestling. They’re not there as a character, but as comedic foil. It’s a bit dehumanizing, but when it’s slim pickings in the entertainment industry, beggars can’t be choosers. You have to accept whatever paying job you can get. Jayne Trcka’s role in Scary Movie (2000) exploits every single negative stereotype about female bodybuilders you can possibly imagine. But from her perspective, it’s a paying job in a major Hollywood production. Can you really blame her?

Kathy Johansson enjoying fun in the sun.

Second, and this point is directly related to the first one, female bodybuilding isn’t a very lucrative profession.

There’s almost no money to be made through competitions. Traditional modeling jobs don’t pay a whole lot no matter what your body type happens to be. You can work as a personal trainer or fitness coach, but being a bodybuilder isn’t necessarily an advantage. It’s not a disadvantage (as far as one can tell), but there are no “bonus points” to be had from being a bodybuilder except for it gives you an extra sense of validity. But not everyone thinks that’s a deal breaker.

And living the life of a bodybuilder isn’t cheap either. The food and supplementation alone costs quite a bit of money if you’re trying to eat clean, often, and strategically. It takes time to go to the gym, lift, do cardio, stretch, shower, and go home to eat and devour a protein shake. It’s challenging to balance working full time, training as a bodybuilder (even if you’re not competing professionally), and enjoying personal time with friends and family. It boggles the mind to ponder how male and female bodybuilders are able to do it.

In other words, female bodybuilders are essentially normal people like us with much different kinds of living expenses. Unlike pro baseball or basketball players, pro bodybuilders aren’t making $20 million per year. They need to hold down a regular 9-5 job just like the rest of us, except squeeze in several hours of training on top of that. You don’t need to be a life coach to understand the difficulties of balancing all of these priorities.

But where exactly is the money at? Well, one can make plenty of dough if they’re willing to offer muscle worship or wrestling sessions. Which conveniently transitions us to our next point:

Being a session provider can be a risky business.

If you need a primer on what “muscle worship” means, you can read all about it in a prior post. While most of us think (and fantasize) about muscle worship and wrestling sessions from the perspective of the client, we mustn’t ignore the provider’s side of the story. Even if rules are set and established beforehand, participating in a fantasy wrestling session can be quite risky.

You never know when you’ll accidentally get injured. Or intentionally get injured by someone with less-than-honorable intentions (there are a lot of strangely insecure guys who feel like they have something to “prove” to a well-meaning FBB who is just trying to earn a living). Or meet a creepy person who stalks you afterward – both online and perhaps even in-person. Stalkers affect all sorts of people, but female bodybuilders are a special breed. They’re as rare as a solar eclipse, which can drive a person whose mental state is already “shaky” at best to do things that definitely cross the line of sane behavior.

For these reasons, FBBs often lay down ground rules before the session even begins. They want to know how much you weigh if you’re interested in “lift and carry” activities. They want to make clear that the wrestling is for fantasy purposes only, as opposed to being a recreation of the Olympic trials. They want to be clear that “tap out” rules will be honored by both sides. In other words, they want to know that they – and the participant – will be safe at all times.

Honest accidents without any malice will inevitably happen from time to time. That is unfortunate, but a reasonable risk one faces when engaging in such strenuous activities. If you want a job without any physical hazards, get a desk job where you sit at a computer and type all day long. But that is not what an FBB who offers muscle worship/fantasy wrestling appointments chooses to do.

A coy looking Tina Nguyen.

Injuries stink for obvious reasons. They hurt, can lead to future health problems, and can be demoralizing. Injuries also inhibit your ability to train, work, travel, and live comfortably. And when your body and health are central to your income stream, being hurt is a double whammy. It’s difficult to earn a living when you’re preoccupied with healing up from a recent torn ligament or fractured bone.

Any lifestyle that is that physically demanding with carry with it inherent risks. And when you throw in clients who may or may not be familiar with you (not every session provider asks for a reference or makes background checks), you never know what sort of person you’ll be spending the next hour or two with. That can be a scary proposition, no matter how emotionally and physically strong you are.

On top of all that, travelling from city to city takes you away from your friends and family for long stretches of time. It’s hard to imagine what that type of life is like unless you’ve lived it. If you have young children – or even older children – being away from them for long periods of time can be stressful. Think of it from the mother’s perspective. Then the children’s. See why this can be a volatile profession?

The next point goes along with that concept: Being a female bodybuilder can be really awkward at times – both for you and your loved ones.

Can you imagine being a little kid and having a mom who “doesn’t look like the other moms?” She’s a lot bigger, stronger, and physically imposing than Billy and Jimmy’s moms. She even has a deeper voice, smaller boobs, and more veins popping out of her arms than is typically considered, uh, typical. And she can bench press more than all the dads out there.

Talk about awkward.

This idea is directly connected to the first point about FBBs living in a world that doesn’t always accept them for who they are. This explores that very concept from everyone else’s perspective.

The older kids get, the more vicious the rumors will become. It doesn’t take a hardboiled private detective to find out what happens at those mysterious muscle worship sessions. It doesn’t take an avid porn aficionado to stumble upon an obscure video of an FBB giving a blow job or hand job to a nameless and faceless beta male client. This sort of information is out there for anyone who is willing to search for it. And not every blog is as respectful as the one you’re currently reading right now. Some blogs and comment sections (ah, yes. The dreaded “comments section” that has single-handedly contributed to the catastrophic dumbing down of our society) can be quite crude in describing what goes on behind closed doors. And come to think of it, it isn’t necessarily crudeness that makes this an issue. Just the basic knowledge that prominent FBBs provide sessions as a side gig is enough to get people to chat, gossip, and speculate on what actually is going on in those remote hotel rooms.

Rumors are rumors, but when rumors are spread widely and loudly enough, they start to become “fact,” even if they are not actually facts. No need to bring up “fake news,” is there?

Can you imagine being a normal kid who does a Google search on your mom and discovers she gives hand jobs to hundreds of guys across the world each year? And she does it for cash that eventually will help fund your college tuition? Talk about an epic discovery that you’d want to erase from your memory “Eternal Sunshine-style.”

Can you imagine being teased for this by the other kids whose parents are more “normal,” if such a thing even exists? Perhaps your FBB mama is remarkably open about her life’s work. Or maybe she tries to shield you from it. In today’s Internet age, it’s nearly impossible to keep something like that under wraps forever. Eventually, the truth will come out if you wait long enough. Nothing can stay hidden for good. Not anymore. We’re far beyond that point. If there’s a grainy video of you – even if this video is more than twenty years old – doing something even slightly embarrassing (never mind performing sexual acts on strangers), you know for a fact it will eventually smack you in the face. Usually when you least expect it. And especially when you don’t ask for it.

Kiana Phi showing off her hard work.

Here’s a true story that I feel compelled to share: Not too long ago a real-life female bodybuilder whom I’ve met for a muscle worship session once before contacted me via e-mail about a recent blog post I had written. She kindly asked that I remove a photo of her that appears in it. The blog article wasn’t about her specifically, but I wanted her picture to be in it because I like her so much.

I dutifully did remove it, carrying out her request as swiftly as I could. She didn’t want her name and reputation to be tarnished. She didn’t want to be associated with an underground subculture that could come back to haunt her, her husband, and her kids.

She didn’t want her daughters to be teased about what their beloved mama does with men in hotel rooms across America. Even if these rumors aren’t based in reality, that doesn’t matter. Harmful gossip is harmful regardless of its truthfulness. I removed her photo because I didn’t want to upset her, but I also did so because I instantly put myself in her shoes. I choose to remain anonymous on this blog because I wouldn’t want my friends and family to know about my unusual fetish. I can grant myself anonymity with very little effort on my part. For an FBB who is considered a “celebrity” in the eyes of many people worldwide, they do not have that luxury.

Public figures cannot control what people say about them. And not everyone can pay a high-quality spin team, PR representative, or “search engine scrubber” who can find creative ways to hide bad stuff said about you. It’s just not possible in today’s interconnected and plugged-in world to totally control your online reputation. I can create a Ryan Takahashi avatar and establish whatever persona I want to. Public figures cannot do that as easily.

Isabelle Turell – what a woman!

This is something I must – and the rest of you, too – keep in mind at all times. When you write about an FBB, wrestler, or session provider on an Internet chat forum, you’re not just communicating to the people with whom you’re directly corresponding. You’re also spreading information – and this includes both accurate and inaccurate information – to the world at large. That’s someone’s reputation. That’s someone’s mom, sister, wife, friend, or lover. That’s another human being, not a brand new air conditioner that deserves a four star rating out of five.

When you call her a whore, you’re saying that about a person with feelings. When you reveal what goes on behind closed doors without honoring her anonymity, you risk harming her reputation. It makes perfect sense why many FBBs are reluctant about allowing people to write reviews about them on chat forums. Who knows what some disgruntled yahoo will say to a captivated audience?

Female bodybuilders are some of the strongest willed people on planet Earth. But they are not invincible. They are flesh and blood human beings who are just as vulnerable as you or I. They may not seem like it in the fever pitch depths of our imaginations, but this is the truth. They are vulnerable, often times in ways you cannot see or understand.

Truth or Dare (part one)

Perfect abs.

Twice a week, I get to see Shawna.

Shawna is a professional bodybuilder, personal trainer, model, fitness accessory spokeswoman, pornographic actress, and overall Muscle Goddess. I first got acquainted with Shawna at a fitness expo last year when she delivered the keynote address to a room full of hundreds of nutritional experts. I was among those in attendance on that fateful day.

Shawna is the Most Perfect Woman in the World…and I do not mean that lightly. She’s strikingly beautiful, stands at 6-feet tall barefoot, and has bigger muscles than the typical Meathead Bro you see at the gym. She has long blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, curvy hips, and bulging muscles covering every square inch of her incredible physique. She’s absolutely flawless. I don’t know how old she is, but she probably hasn’t hit 40 yet. Or maybe she has. I don’t know. None of that matters. She’s ageless.

I work for Healthy Living Nutrition, a medium-sized startup company that specializes in producing breakfast bars, protein shakes, and hot to-go meals that people can order via an app. Just download the HLN app and within minutes you can plan an entire month’s worth of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners (not to mention a few snacks here and there).

The app allows users to plot out every single one of their meals in advance and have them shipped to the address (or addresses) of their choice. We began serving clients only in greater Seattle, but have recently expanded to include Spokane, Portland, Coeur d’Alene, Boise, and Redding. We foresee expansion to Los Angeles – which is considered the Holy Grail of markets – and Phoenix within the next two to three years.

But first, we needed a spokesperson who could sell our app to the bodybuilding community. We’ve already enlisted pro baseball, football, basketball, and tennis players, respectively. Now we need an “in” with bodybuilders, figure competitors, fitness models, and anyone who aspires to become one of those. When me and a colleague registered to attend this fitness conference, I knew Shawna could be that “foot in the door” that we so desperately needed.

And as it turned out, she was.

My co-worker Dale and I chatted with Shawna after the expo ended over glasses of wine and plates of cheap happy hour nachos. We told her she can use the app for free for an entire month, report back to us how she felt about it, and choose to endorse it if she wanted to. We told her the percentage of our profits that she can earn in a year, which appeared to go over well with her. She agreed to our deal, downloaded the app onto her phone, and went about her merry way. Dale and I felt happy about ourselves, all the while staring helplessly at her impressive, angelic muscular body.

“Holy shit, she’s perfect. She can’t possibly be human,” Dale quipped after she left.

“The amazing thing is that she is human,” I said. “She looks like that because she dedicates her entire life to looking like that. It didn’t happen by accident.”

“Damn,” Dale replied, downing the rest of his wine. “So fucking gorgeous.”

A month passes and Shawna emails me saying she loves the app and would be happy to endorse it in our upcoming advertising blitz. She signed her name on the dotted line and agreed to keep using the app for at least a year and appear in several promotional videos, radio hits, and social media posts. I got a promotion. Dale ended up leaving the company after being plucked by a competitor. His replacement ended up being a dopey idiot fresh out of college. Life moves on.

Factory where pre-packaged food is made.

Me being promoted meant I had to move to a different city. Now I reside in Santa Monica, right in the heart of where we want our business to expand to. I guess the logic is that if the company moves its best people into a desirable target market…eventually that’ll mean we will successfully penetrate that market. We’ll see if it actually works.

Shawna, coincidentally, also lives in the area – albeit Torrance. We’ve met up a few times to discuss business-related items, chat about our lives, and complain about the things regarding the fitness industry that drive us up a wall. As it turns out, we both hate everything Planet Fitness stands for and would love to see its business model burn to the ground. Great minds think alike, right?

My office is located within walking distance of the factory where we produce our breakfast bars. Every day we churn out tens of thousands of granola bars and ship them to gyms, grocery stores, convenience stores, gas stations, and online retailers across the country. And occasionally, out of the 25,000 we produce daily, a good dozen or so will be “unfit” for sale.

What does “unfit” for sale mean exactly? It could mean a variety of things. A bar could accidentally get smashed, come out wrongly shaped, not fit within the designated packaging, or fall on the floor when a clumsy warehouse worker nears the end of his shift. Regardless, we normally toss out the “bad” bars so that the public doesn’t see them. We can’t allow our newly developed brand to be sullied in any way.

Sometimes, employees will steal a few bars that didn’t make the final cut when nobody is looking. There’s technically no internal rules against that, although the higher ups at Corporate would prefer these misshapen bars never see the light of day. Heaven forbid if a random guy on the street accidentally sees one of our breakfast bars with an unauthorized crack down the middle. That’ll spell our inevitable doom for sure.

Recently, I got the brilliant idea of delivering some of these misshapen bars to our favorite customer – Shawna. These bars don’t taste all that great, but they aren’t supposed to. They pack a nutritional punch, stuffing in every single vitamin and mineral known to mankind in a single bite. They’re supposed to help bodybuilders get “gains,” and that’s exactly what they do. Shawna recognizes and appreciates these benefits better than anyone. That’s why she’s our #1 spokeswoman.

Whew. Deep breath.

All of that is to say that twice a week, I come over to Shawna’s home and deliver to her as many “unfit” breakfast bars as I can manage. I usually visit on Tuesdays and Fridays, but sometimes I come on a Thursday if she plans on being busy the next day. I have no life, so it doesn’t matter to me when I get to meet her. No girlfriend, no kids, no hobbies, no nothing outside of work. It’s depressing, but I try to not think about it too often.

I should also hurry up and mention that because these bars are so super nutritious, they’re also super expensive. $8 per bar. Yeah, that’s quite a lot. But they’re supposed to supply an entire meal’s worth of nutrition in a few bites, so they’re pricy for a reason. The bean counters aren’t just making this up out of thin air. Shawna likes them a lot but can’t afford to purchase too many of them legitimately.

A plate of granola bars.

So, that’s where I come into play.

I give her free breakfast bars twice a week. Each delivery could be worth up to $100. That’s a lot of free stuff. Although, it’s not completely free.

Nope. She does pay me.

In sexual favors.

I usually arrive at her house between 7:00 and 7:30 p.m., depending on traffic (and, for the record, traffic really sucks in California). I park my car in her driveway, take out a non-conspicuous looking brown cardboard box out of the trunk, and casually walk to her front door. I knock three times. Within 30 seconds she opens it. We kiss each other on the cheek. We exchange pleasantries for a couple of minutes. Sometimes she offers me iced tea or lemonade. I graciously accept. I politely drink it all, whether I like it or not. She takes the box of contraband granola bars from me and stashes it away in her kitchen.

Then, she dims the lights, closes the shades, turns on some quiet music, and strips naked.

I also strip naked.

We enter her living room and begin the festivities. She poses for me. She shows off her muscles. She goes to the gym and trains five days a week, with Tuesday and Friday being her two off-days (hence, this is why I visit her on these days). She’s a Tall Blonde Muscle Goddess who stands – I believe I’ve said this before – 6-feet tall without shoes on. She’s a marvel to look at. From head to toe, she’s ripped. Completely ripped. Jacked up. Her biceps are larger than my legs. Her legs are larger than my torso. Her torso is larger than…a freight train? A Mack truck? A Boeing 747?

I touch her body. I sometimes rub oil on it. I worship her muscles. We almost never talk during our “play time.” I kiss her skin as she flexes. Occasionally, when she’s in the mood, she’ll lie down on the sofa and spread her legs wide, revealing her swollen clitoris.

It’s huge. HUGE. Three inches long when fully erect. That’s not a fucking joke. I’m not exaggerating one fucking bit. Her clit is that enormous. Unbelievably enormous. It defies science. And that’s an understatement.

Eye-popping. Jaw-dropping. Heart-stopping. And highly erotic.

After she spreads her legs, I get down on my knees and suck on it. I suck on it until she comes. She’ll come multiple times. At first, I was terrible at it. But after repeated attempts, I’ve become exceptionally good at it. Shawna’s coached me on how to properly give her cunnilingus. She explicitly tells me how to use my tongue, lips, and fingers to my advantage. Now, I can play her like a fiddle. I know how to give her pleasure that literally makes her scream.

Shawna could be a taller Lindsay Mulinazzi. Note: This story is fictional and does not reflect any real world experiences.

I know how to give her satisfying climaxes that make her entire body shudder. I know how to prolong her orgasm just long enough to make her beg me to finish the job. I know how to tease her, how to torture her, how to make her teeter just long enough on the edge of orgasm but deny her the conclusion she seeks. And once she does reach that orgasmic climax, it’s the greatest orgasm she’s ever experienced…up to that point, of course.

Once I’ve satisfied her, she enthusiastically returns the favor. Most of the time, she’ll give me a simple hand job. Occasionally, a blow job. But that’s it. Those are my two options. We’ve given each other oral and manual stimulation hundreds of times, but we’ve never had actual penetrative sex. She has strict boundaries, and I respect those boundaries.

I always respect her boundaries.

Although she’s not currently married (she’s been divorced twice before) and doesn’t appear to be in a relationship with anyone (that I can tell), she doesn’t want to cross that threshold with me. She says it’s not personal. It’s strictly a professional choice. I dutifully accept that explanation.

“In a weird way, this is a business transaction,” Shawna once said to me moments after cleaning up my semen off her neck. “An unconventional business transaction, but a business transaction nevertheless. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I would agree with that,” I replied.

So we’ve never had sex – at least, “sex” properly understood and traditionally defined. But we’ve been very intimate with each other. Many times. During the past year I’ve spent countless hours with her clitoris in my mouth. She’s had my semen smeared on almost every imaginable place of her magnificent body. Yet, we’ve never gone “all the way.” I don’t think we’ll ever get there.

Shawna is a unique kind of person, both externally and internally. She obviously looks different on the outside – not too many “normal” women have muscles as big as an NFL linebacker – in every conceivable way. But on the inside, she’s both open to talking about her life and extremely guarded in other areas.

For example, she rarely talks about her kids. During one moment when both of us were slightly drunk, she revealed that she has four kids. She first became pregnant when she was 15. Her second born arrived when she was 17. Her other two kids were born when she was 18 and 20, respectively. She’s now in her late 30s or early 40s, and her youngest child is now old enough to be a college student. Yikes.

The father of her first child was a 15-year-old kid just like her. He panicked, ran away from home, and later joined the Army. He was deployed to Iraq shortly afterward and came home in a body bag. Very tragic. The father of her second child was a Catholic missionary who apparently tried out the “missionary” position with her. That’s no joke. When she became pregnant and refused to have an abortion, he quit his job, renounced his Catholicism, and committed suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. Yet another senseless tragedy.

This is what Shawna’s home looks like.

Her other two children were the product of her first marriage. I don’t know much about this guy. She didn’t have any kids with her second husband. I also don’t know much about him.

Her first husband was 25 years her senior, and her second husband was born two weeks earlier than she was. She’s now single…and definitely not ready to mingle. She says she has no intention of getting married ever again.

I don’t know which of her kids are male and female. They could all be boys or they could all be girls. Or somewhere in between. It’s probably somewhere in between. But at the end of the day, I don’t know much about this part of her life. And that’ll probably be the way things remain.

As I pull up to her driveway for the umpteenth time, I think about whether or not her kids are aware of what Mom has to do in order to get her daily quota of protein, vitamins, and minerals. I’d rather not ponder that, but how can the thought not cross my mind?

I knock on the door and wait. The wait is shorter than normal.

“Hello sweetie! Come on in,” Shawna greets me after opening the door.

I step into her house and take off my shoes. I try to not notice the glaring hole in my left black sock, exposing my big toe for everyone to see. It’s embarrassing, but Shawna is like an old buddy to me. A buddy with big muscles. And the Universe’s Largest Clit.

Her house smells like freshly coated paint. I hope I don’t start to sneeze.

“Did you finally repaint the bathroom?”

“Yes, I did! Thank you for noticing,” she says. I drop a box full of contraband granola bars on the kitchen counter as Shawna deals with something in the dining room. Cleaning up after dinner, perhaps?

Shawna pokes her head in the kitchen with a glass of champagne in hand. “I have an idea for what we can do tonight. It’ll be fun. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. In the mood for something more creative?”

“Yes, I am,” she begins. “I’m feeling a bit adventurous tonight, for some odd reason. Probably because I’m still on cloud 9!”

“Oh? What happened to you?” We move our conversation to the living room. I start to undress like usual until Shawna places her hand on my shoulder, indicating I should stop.

“I just got cast in a movie! It’s not a major Hollywood film, but it’s not a typical porno either. It’s something low budget, independent, and artistic,” she announces.

“That’s awesome! What’s it called?” I kiss her on the cheek to congratulate her.

“It doesn’t have a title yet, but it should soon. It’s basically about a middle-aged couple whose marriage is going through the motions. In order to spice things up, they decide to play a game of erotic Truth or Dare.” Shawna sits us down on the sofa. Even when we’re both sitting, I still have to look up to her. “One of the dares the wife makes to the husband is to hire a female bodybuilder for a competitive wrestling match. You can guess who I play in this little drama.”

“Neat! You play the chauffeur, right?”

Shawna laughs. I do too.

“Not quite. We start filming in two months. Locally, so I don’t need to travel anywhere. However, in the meantime, I thought it would be a cool idea to play our own game of Truth or Dare. What say you?” She stares at me, smiling with a big toothy grin. I cannot think of a reason to refuse her offer.

“Of course! Let’s do it. You can go first if you’d like.”

Shawna sits up and blinks a few times. I feel my heart start to race, as this is a very unusual way for our evening to commence. We’ve settled into a routine. She clearly wants to break this routine, at least for one night.

“I would love to go first,” she says. “Alright. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Fantastic.” Shawna clears her throat. “I dare you to have anal sex with me. Without protection. Right now.”

In Bed with a Female Bodybuilder

I’d love to share a bed with Alina Popa.

When I think about what I would love to do with a female bodybuilder in an intimate setting, there wouldn’t be any whips, handcuffs, gags, rope, hot candle wax, wrestling mats, or blindfolds.

Instead, there’s a large bed with white linen cloth. A bottle of chilled champagne. A bright warm fireplace with plenty of spare logs. Clothing carelessly littered across the room. And of course, her. Naked. Smiling. Confident. Caring. Loving.

There isn’t a hint of animosity in the air. The mood is playful, tender, genuine. We lock eyes. We kiss. We stroke each other’s bodies. I feel her muscle-bound figure not in awe, but with a gentle sense of familiarity. I know her body well. Yet, I am still amazed by it. I’ve felt her enormous biceps thousands of times, but they are still able to send shivers down my spine. I’ve stared into her gorgeous eyes a million times before, yet they still have the uncanny ability to captivate me.

I am under her spell, yet I do not complain. I do not fight back. There is no fight to be had. She is stronger and more powerful than me. Yet I do not feel emasculated. Rather, I feel like I’m more of a man when I am with her. Her feminine strength does not invalidate my masculinity. It enhances it. I am a man and she is a woman. Her impressive muscular built does not change or disrupt that equation.

We are at peace. We are quiet, but not silent. She has no makeup on, but she is still more naturally beautiful than any supermodel who has ever lived. We love each other. There is no superficiality going on between us. As I caress her body, I am constantly reminded of the countless hours she spends at the gym and the enormous sacrifices she makes every single day to achieve her remarkable physique. She does not have to tell me how difficult it is to look the way she looks. I know everything I need to know just from the touch of my fingers on her flawlessly picturesque body.

Whew.

I can go on and on describing my hypothetical experience of being in bed with a female bodybuilder. But this will do for now.

Guys and gals who love female bodybuilders have a wide array of FBB-centered fantasies. This ranges from desiring to have a female bodybuilder wrap her strong thick legs around your neck and squeeze to feeling up her broad back while she flexes her arms right in front of you. Some fantasies are violent in nature, others are peaceful. Some of the more violence-oriented fantasies hug that fine line between “normal” and “criminal” – although who are we to judge?

A nice look for Cindy Landolt.

FBB fandom can take many forms, yet there is one common element that cannot be ignored: the indescribable feeling that female bodybuilders conjure up inside of us. They make our entire body shake. They capture our attention like nothing else can. They make us do irrational things. We are attracted to them in ways that we are not attracted to in more “conventional” people. While seeing a pretty girl wearing a skimpy bikini at the beach can make our heart skip a beat, watching a video of a beautiful female bodybuilder flex her huge muscles wearing sexy lingerie can make our heart stop beating entirely.

See the difference?

How we prefer to experience this “indescribable feeling” differs from person to person. Some of us fantasize about – or actually get to experience if you have the resources and good fortune of a real-life FBB travelling to your area – being pinned to the ground by a powerful woman. Others of us are rougher around the edges and prefer her to pour hot candle wax on our chests, spit in our faces, and call us demeaning names as we demand further insults to be hurled our way. But there exists another cohort of female muscle lovers who prefer an experience that’s more quiet, tranquil, peaceful, low-key, measured, and intimate.

You can probably guess which group yours truly belongs in.

This is not to say that people who prefer to experience the, uh, “bumpier” side of female bodybuilding fandom are wrong. Far from it. It’s just that some of us aren’t as enamored with power dynamics, sexual politics, and muscle fetishization as others are. That’s it. Nobody is “right” or “wrong” when it comes to fantasizing or actually playing out their FBB-related desires. Unless someone gets hurt unintentionally, of course.

Personally, the few times per year that I get to meet a real-life female bodybuilder for a muscle worship session tend to be as low-key as you might imagine. No wrestling, no submission, no hint of competition. Just her and me. In bed. We talk. We share stories. I compliment her. She grins and giggles. I touch her magnificent body. Goosebumps flare up across my arm. My fingers feel like they could melt after caressing her warm, coarse skin. It’s quiet. The room is dimly lit. There’s music playing softly in the background. The window is open, allowing the bright moonlight to freely fill the room. Whatever happens stays between us. She’s as beautiful as you can possibly imagine, except more so. My heart can burst out of my chest at any moment. Luckily, it does not.

I enjoy everything about a female bodybuilder, not just her muscles. I enjoy her personal journey. Learning about her hopes, dreams, aspirations, fears, annoyances, and joys. I marvel at her self-confidence and unwavering belief in her ability to achieve anything she wants. I enjoy her femininity. I enjoy her power. I enjoy her calmness. I enjoy giving her pleasure (if she lets me). I enjoy receiving pleasure from her (once again, if she feels like doing so). In short, I enjoy everything about the experience of meeting her. Everything.

As gorgeous as can be, the lovely Sheronica Sade Henton.

It’s difficult, though not impossible, to experience those same things when you’re pinned to the ground, gasping for air. I know she’s strong. I don’t need her to demonstrate it for me. But that’s just how I prefer to experience her full power. I certainly don’t speak for everyone. Nor would I want to.

To me, female muscle is highly erotic. Erotic in a way that almost transcends the meaning of the word. It’s not just sexually arousing or exciting. It’s emotionally moving, almost in a quasi-spiritual way. I feel like I’m in the presence of Greatness. Not exactly a goddess, but something very close to that. It’s difficult to describe, but those who do understand what I’m talking about are no doubt nodding their heads in agreement right now.

There is no right or wrong way to pass your time with an FBB, considering everything is consensual and what is previously agreed upon to happen actually happens. For me personally, I love experiences where I can show my appreciation for an FBB’s hard work in the most respectful yet erotic way possible. The feeling of her rock hard muscles against my fingers is indescribably sexy. I’ve tried to explain it, but have failed over and over again. It’s truly something that the English language – or any language, for that matter – cannot justifiably articulate.

May I sit next to Debi Laszewski?

In a way, what I enjoy doing (and fantasizing about) is no different than what a “normal” couple would do when they’re getting intimate with each other. They lie in bed together. They flirt. They exchange needful glances. They chat. They touch each other. They disrobe. They engage in foreplay. They…make love.

I’ve never made love to a female bodybuilder, but that isn’t a precondition to talking about what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is the beautiful feeling of sharing time and space with a female bodybuilder in the privacy of a hotel room away from the eyes of anyone else but ourselves. No one has to witness what we do together. It’s just her and me. That’s it. That’s all there needs to be.

Privacy is a wonderful thing. Even more so when you’re willing and eager to become vulnerable with the other person.

Muscle worship is very personal. Extremely personal. It’s fun, of course, but fun in an intimate kind of way. You don’t become “friends” with her, but you certainly share a special connection that will never leave that rented room. There’s something poetically beautiful about that: a private period of time between two people where one party expresses appreciation for the physical beauty of the other party – in which cell phones, modern technology, and eyewitnesses are nowhere to be seen. That’s the way it should be.

Wendy Fortino looking jaw-dropping.

Being in bed with a female bodybuilder is like kneeling before the altar and praying before whatever god you worship. It’s deeply personal, yet surreal in its mundanity. The anticipation of being able to meet her is palpable. Your palms are sweaty. Your heart rate is through the roof. You count down the hours till you get to meet her with the same anticipation of a small child waiting for Santa to deliver your presents. When you do get to knock on her door and walk into her room, you need to pinch yourself in order to discover whether or not you’re actually living in a realistic dream. Thankfully, you are not.

And when you do eventually get into bed with her, you feel like pausing and saying a brief prayer to the Heavens. You want to thank the stars for granting you this privileged moment. This moment may happen to you again, or it may not. Regardless, you want to make the most of it. And you do. You do in fact make the most of it by staring intently into her eyes, whispering melodic compliments into her ear, and caressing her muscular body with the careful prudence of an artist painting a canvas.

What you do is simple. You lie next to her and enjoy each other’s company in complete silence. Not a care in the world. The outside world means nothing right now. You’re like two old lovers rediscovering your shared passion. Nothing about this picture would seem out of the ordinary in any bedroom in the world.

Except for the romantically whimsical image of a man sharing an intimate moment with a woman. A woman who happens to have enormous biceps.

Untouched and Unattached: The Virginal Female Bodybuilder Fantasy

Such a pretty smile on Minna Pajulathi.

There’s one remarkable similarity between some of our most favorite female bodybuilders that might explain (slightly) why we universally love them.

What do Denise Masino, Alina Popa, Cindy Landolt, Aspen Rae, Theresa Ivancik, and Minna Pajulahti all have in common?

Besides being Divine All-Powerful Muscle Goddesses, you rarely see them participate in videos with other guys.

Sure, that’s not totally true. All these ladies have shot a few videos of them either allowing a guy to worship their muscles or wrestle them until they helplessly surrender. But for the most part, these ladies – and plenty of others as well – tend to make videos where either they’re solo or they’re with other women (usually fellow female bodybuilders). Have you also noticed this trend?

I cannot recall watching a video where Denise Masino – who is my favorite FBB – has sex with a man, wrestles a man, or is worshipped by a man. Maybe a few are out there, but I haven’t personally come across anything of the sort. That doesn’t mean they doesn’t exist, of course. 99% of the time, Denise is masturbating by herself with the camera pointed up close to her enormous genitalia, allowing a fellow FBB to suck on her huge clitoris, or participating in an all-female muscle orgy. Naturally, I am not complaining about any of this.

Yet, this observation is jarring. For whatever reason, a significant number of female bodybuilders who participate in porn (the vast majority of actual FBBs do not, for the record) do so either without men in it or only with other women. These women might be fellow bodybuilders or they might be “normal” looking women. But the absence of other guys cannot be overlooked.

Why is that? Why does Aspen Rae choose to make lesbian-themed videos but not a whole lot where she has sex with a man? Why do our favorite FBBs either “go solo” or only allow themselves to be filmed being intimate with other women? It could be that these ladies are genuine lesbians who aren’t interested in having sex with men…or it could be an intentional choice. What would motivate this choice in the first place?

The answer is simple: They want guys like us to fantasize about being with them, knowing we’re not interested in watching guys like us be with them.

In other words, we embrace the “virginal female bodybuilder” motif wholeheartedly. Of course, we know that these women are not actual virgins (far from it, most likely). This isn’t about reality. It’s about fantasy. And fantasy can be broken the moment reality starts to creep in. Any business-savvy FBB understands this.

Domestic bliss with Denise Masino.

We want to imagine that we can be that guy who can suck on an FBB’s clit or make love to her all night long. If we see an actual guy – even if this guy is a nameless and faceless porn actor – do this, it ruins the experience for us. We start to get jealous. We become envious. We get angry. We get frustrated. The “fun” is drained from the experience. We are reminded that never in a million years will we be able to have sex with her. And the moment reality crashes the party, you might as well pack your bags, hail an Uber, and leave. What’s the point?

I keep referencing Denise Masino because she is, in my opinion, one of the greatest businesswomen in the female bodybuilding industry. She understands better than anyone else why guys love FBBs and what it is that they look for when they need their “FBB fix.” She knows her enormous clitoris is her selling point. It’s her moneymaker. She isn’t ashamed of it. She doesn’t try to hide it. Nor does she tease us with it. Instead, she puts it out there front and center, as if daring you to look away. She’s comfortable being who she is and she refuses to apologize for it. That’s hot. That’s sexy. That’s…lucrative.

This is why Denise has embraced the “virginal female bodybuilder” character, whether she admits it or not. Unlike Yvette Bova or Kathy Connors, you won’t see Denise participate in a gangbang where a dozen guys ejaculate all over her at once. You won’t see her give blow jobs to random men one after another. You won’t even see her have penetrative sex with a single guy, let alone two or three or four. She remains virginal. She remains pure, untouched, unattached, and completely attainable.

Is Denise an actual virgin? Hell no! We all know that. She probably has a highly active sex life. She’s a veteran at doing the deed. But we’re not talking about reality here. We’re talking about the artificial image of Denise that exists solely in our minds. Or Aspen. Or Angela. Or Alina. Or Theresa. Or Cindy. Or Minna. Or anybody else that comes to mind. The fantasy works only when the groundwork has been properly laid (no pun intended). Starting from the vantage point of being a “virginal” muscular woman are the building blocks.

Brandi Mae Akers is an interesting case study. Most of her videos are of her being either solo or with other women. But there is a small handful in which she appears with another guy. That guy is probably her boyfriend/husband, but I don’t know for sure. I’m not too well versed in her personal life.

Yet, Brandi still gives off the “Muscle Girl Next-Door” vibes. We still are able to imagine ourselves with her without the memories of another man soiling the mood. Perhaps it’s because the videos in which she’s with a guy are few and far between. That must be it.

The FBB who is untouched and unattached is more desirable because we can more easily place ourselves in the position of touching them like they’ve never been touched before. We may not fantasize about being able to date or marry them quite as often, but that’s just an added bonus. This fantasy loses a lot of its luster if we’re constantly reminded that they enjoy a happy, stable marriage with the luckiest guy in the world.

Alina Popa ready for date night.

What explains all this? Well, we can probably start with the whole idea of “purity” being cherished because our society has roots in the Puritan sect of Christianity. The taboo against sex before marriage has developed a culture in which women are seen as whores the moment they “stain” their purity. The “virgin/whore” dichotomy (or “Madonna-whore complex,” which is probably the more official term) is the basic observation that society at large – however you define that – needs to put women into one of two camps: Virgins or whores. One cannot be both. And the moment one crosses over into “whore” territory, they’re branded that label for life – perhaps with a certain scarlet letter even.

Unless they join a convent. Or settle down, get married, and have children who also grow up to settle down, get married, and have children. One or the other. Yikes. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of options, does it?

So, men tend to fetishize female virginity because they’re socially conditioned to value a woman who will become a suitable wife and mother. Whores who sleep around aren’t exactly fit for such a lifestyle. Even though sexual politics have evolved throughout the years, remnants of these attitudes still persist – even supposedly amongst the most “liberated” of us.

Women are shamed for having sex, enjoying sex, or seeking out sex. Men tend to not face such stigmas. Although, the opposite is sort of true. Men who are virgins themselves are viewed as losers who haven’t yet fulfilled their basic masculine duties. This gets more pronounced the older he gets. So this pendulum swings both ways.

All of that being said, it doesn’t appear as though the “virginal FBB” is an archetype that fits into this neat category. The virgin-whore complex may be part of it, but it’s not all of it. Rather, this boils down to the ability to fantasize about what you know you will never be able to obtain.

For example, think back to your high school days. There was this girl you really liked. She was cute, funny, smart, and had a rocking great body. She flirted with you a little bit and you gladly flirted back. You consider asking her out on a date, until you discover that she flirts with everyone. And that is no exaggeration. Every boy at school – including yourself – believes he has a chance with her. But most of them do not. Then, you discover that she sleeps around. She freely gives blow jobs and hand jobs to boys on the football team. Maybe she has a boyfriend (or two, or three, or four), maybe she doesn’t. But regardless, your crush on her dissipates. The illusion has been shattered. You know who she really is and how she acts. It ain’t pretty. So you move on to a different girl. One who is more, how shall we put it, “virginal” – even if only in appearance.

Hm. Does that accurately describe your experience? If so, great. If not, at the very least you can try to imagine what it would be like to put yourself in this hypothetical boy’s shoes. You desired something that is in fact obtainable, but you back out the moment you really discover what kind of a person she truly is. Of course, her questionable behavior might not be true. It could be rumors. Or flat-out lies meant to slander her reputation. But none of that matters. You don’t want to waste your time on someone who won’t value you back.

Now, contrast this situation with your adult crush on a female bodybuilder. You’re older and wiser, but you’re still a man with normal sexual desires. You follow several fitness models and bodybuilders on Instagram. You spend a lot of time watching videos of FBBs working out, masturbating, posing for the camera, or stroking their huge clits. Unlike the girl you liked in high school, you know with 100% certainty that these FBBs aren’t obtainable. They live hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from you. They’re already married. They wouldn’t be interested in an anonymous shlubby guy like you. So you know there is no realistic path for you to hook up with these women. It’s not going to happen. You’re not naïve or hopelessly delusional about this.

Who wouldn’t want to wake up every morning next to Aspen Rae?

Yet, you still are endlessly attracted to them. You cannot stop thinking about them. They are your personal definition of a perfect woman. A flawless 10/10. But you have no illusions that you’ll ever be with her. I would love to make love to Denise Masino, but I know such a thing will never happen to me. I’m not bitter over this, because why should I? I’m not stupid enough to think that could ever occur. However, in my mind, anything is possible. Why limit your imagination?

Thus, for fans of female bodybuilders, FBBs really only exist on a theoretical level. You might get to meet a few for muscle worship/wrestling sessions, but not everyone can do that. Even if you do get to participate in such sessions, the experience lasts for a finite amount of time and eventually reality will settle back in. Like the cute flirty girl who makes your overpriced latte at Starbucks, she’s only nice to you because you paid her to be nice to you. Truth is a cold reality.

But fantasy can be as hot as you want it to be. In the private recesses of your mind, Angela Salvagno is your naughty Alpha Female wife who tells you what to do, makes all the important financial decisions, wears the pants in the house (figuratively speaking), and decides what goes on in the bedroom. She controls your life. And you let her. But in reality, Angela doesn’t know who you are and doesn’t care to know who you are. Yet, your imagination can run wild because nobody can tell you it can’t.

When you watch a movie, you constantly have to “suspend your disbelief.” You have to accept unrealistic circumstances if you want to enjoy it. If you refuse to believe the unbelievable, you’re going to have a miserable time.

Sherry Mayumi = wife material

We all know Mark Hamill and Daisy Ridley aren’t actually wielding laser swords and using “The Force” in the most recent Star Wars adventure. We know it’s all animated. Jedis aren’t real. Spaceships like that aren’t real. The Force isn’t real. It’s all an illusion. But, we accept the premise because the filmmakers do their best job to make it seem as plausible as possible.

Modern visual effects and CGI enable us to better suspend our disbelief. If we can see the wires holding up a “flying” saucer, it ruins the experience for us. But if you digitally erase the wires and add cool music and special FX into the mix, we cheer it on. We are more likely to accept the unacceptable.

On that same note, we are more likely to enjoy fantasizing about our favorite female bodybuilders if we are better able to distance ourselves from actual reality. In my mind, Sherry Mayumi and I are a happily married couple enjoying a blissful life together. The fact that her Instagram is devoid of anyone but herself (I believe she’s single at the moment!) allows me to indulge in this fantasy. I am empowered to suspend my disbelief. Her “virginal” façade has created a void. A void that I can fill.

At the end of the day, that’s what all of this boils down to: a convincing façade that leaves plenty to the imagination. Our favorite FBBs are our favorite because they hold a special place in our hearts. All that’s required is permission to believe that she doesn’t just occupy that space…but that she belongs there.

And she does. In our minds. And hearts.

Looking Up to Her

An unknown friend in a position to look up to Roxie Rain.

The heat emanating from her coarse, rough skin is palpable. I’ve never experienced skin so abrasive, yet so beautiful to the touch. Tonight is a night of many unique experiences.

Shannon stands tall in her translucent grey high heels, her forest green eyes hovering just above my own. Her eyelashes flutter with musical synchronicity. Right now, her wavy dark brown hair sits right above her broad shoulders, looking as if it’s set just right for this moment. I struggle to find the words to speak to her with, a burden that seems insignificant for the time being.

“Have you ever touched a woman like me before?” she coyly asks.

I nod my head “no,” but realize she wouldn’t be able to see that. So I attempt to make a pithy verbal reply to her inquiry.

“No, I have not. Definitely not. You’re the first, for sure.”

She murmurs something unintelligible back to me, but it’s probably just a slight laugh. She knows she has all the power right now; she knows damn well that I am like a helpless child, with normal thoughts and conversational abilities thrown out the proverbial window. My fingers move down to her wide back, every striation of muscle sending shivers down my spine. Her thick mounds of flesh seem piled on like bricks in a mansion. To reiterate, I’ve never met, seen, or touched a woman quite like Shannon before.

But what a ride it has been thus far.

“Wow. You’re so damn beautiful, Shannon,” I say. “But you already know that, I’m sure.”

Shannon unexpectedly turns around, her piercing eyes staring straight into my weak soul. She rubs her hands down her bare breasts, completely aware of their remarkably small size. Is she projecting her insecurities to me? Or pointing out her flaws (as if she has any)? Or is she attempting to turn herself on? I can only guess.

Next, she hooks her fingers around the sides of her bikini bottom and methodically pulls it down to the floor. Once it pools around her ankles, she kicks them off to the side. Neither of us have any clue where it lands. Not that we actually care.

Now she is completely nude.

“Thank you, Max. I appreciate the kind words,” Shannon begins. “Why don’t you show me how beautiful you think I am, instead of just saying it?”

With the grace of a world-class ballet dancer, Shannon leaps backwards onto the hotel bed and spreads her powerful legs as wide as they can go. She rests her head against the purple satin pillowcase. I think I know what she’s inviting me to do…so I oblige her invitation with very little humility.

I get down on my knees and lean my chest against the edge of the bed. My hands explore Shannon’s tree trunk legs, her calves the size of grapefruits, and her impressive six-pack abdomen. Shannon closes her eyes and moans as I touch every inch of her magnificent body. She’s an angel, a deity, a demi-goddess who is charitable enough to visit the Human World. For this, I am eternally grateful.

My eyes open wide when I see Shannon’s enormous clitoris. Hot, ultrasensitive, pulsing, and as erect as it can possibly be, my tongue laps its broad head with reckless abandon. Protruding out at least three inches in length, I wrap my lips around it and rhythmically fondle it with my entire mouth. Shannon groans in response, intense pleasure building up within her being.

The flawlessly beautiful Wendy Fortino.

She grabs the bedsheets and squeezes them with all her might. I would not be surprised if she accidentally rips the fabric. Her brute strength is enough to break or tear anything manmade. Loud moans of delight escape from her throat. I clutch her legs to stabilize myself. I continue to suck as meticulously as I can – wanting to bring her to the earthshattering orgasm that she deserves.

Eventually, Shannon does climax. Maybe just once. Or maybe twice. I cannot tell for sure.

“Oh fuck!” Shannon belts out.

She lifts her pelvis off the bed and writhes around involuntarily. Shock waves of orgasm pulsate throughout her body. I try to end on a gracious note by slowing down my oral actions and tickling her clit head with the tip of my tongue. I do not know if she enjoys this or even acknowledges the gesture.

Moments pass. Shannon is out of breath and smiling unashamedly.

“Alright kid. Now it’s your turn,” she announces.

Shannon playfully shoves me backward, forcing me to stumble onto my bare butt. She flexes her bulging biceps, then shows off her jaw-dropping triceps. Next, she squeezes her delts and looks to the ground to provide me with a more advantageous view. I appreciate every second of it. The final thing she does is turn toward the window and strike a side chest pose, demonstrating the results of all these years of bench pressing at the gym. She grins with delight at the conclusion of her little “show.”

She takes a few steps toward me. I am still on the floor, as vulnerable as can be.

There I am, looking up to her. She smiles. I can clearly see the deep grooves between her abs. I can see her shrunken breasts – and the chip on her shoulder that comes with it. She’s still wearing the high heels, which adds her to considerable height. She is all powerful. Omnipotent. Invincible. Indomitable. I am weak. I can do nothing to resist. Yet, why would I?

“I’m in a good mood right now. I know we’ve just met, but I have a special feeling about you, Max.” Shannon stands frozen in time, as still as a marble statue. “I rarely let guys do this the first time they see me, but like I just said, I’m feeling generous.”

She walks toward her suitcase, opens it, digs around it for a few moments, and takes out a condom wrapper. My heart flutters, knowing exactly what is about to transpire next.

Shannon tears it open and tosses it carelessly on top of the bedside credenza. She points to the bed. I immediately get up and sit down on it, as obedient as a pet dog. I remain silent. She does as well.

This is what the hotel balcony looks like.

Seductively, she approaches me and wraps her callused fingers around my manhood. It awakens, growing harder and longer in the palm of her hand. I take in a deep breath, afraid I might prematurely come right then and there. Thankfully, I do not embarrass myself in front of this Gorgeous Muscle Goddess. Eventually – and for what seems like an eternity – she smooths the condom down my erect penis and leans over to kiss me. Our lips meet. Her tongue wrestles with mine. Her strawberry-flavored chap stick invades my senses. Shannon then grasps my wrist and pulls me upward. I stand next to her, my eyes still just below hers. She leads me to the sliding glass door. My breathing stops. She unlocks it and escorts us outside. The chilly early spring air greets our nude bodies. It is still not quite dark yet, so at this moment complete strangers could be watching us if they were fortunate enough to stumble upon this glorious sight:

A lucky nude man accompanied by a beautiful nude muscular woman.

Shannon turns around, braces the metallic railing and sticks her bottom out toward me, offering it to her newfound mate. I place my cold hands against her hips. The tip of my penis brushes against her left butt cheek. I manage to take in a deep breath.

“Now fuck me,” she says in a much louder voice than I thought was prudent.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without thinking too much about it, I seize her hips with more force and guide my penis inside her. She’s already wet, signaling her hospitality. I thrust in and out of her vagina, not saying a word and secretly hoping somebody would see us. After all, this is the most triumphant moment of my life…I would kill to have some kind of an audience to witness it. Is that too much to ask?

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s great. Just like that, Max…”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw an older couple watching us from a nearby balcony. But I could be wrong. My vision has blurred and I can only concentrate on fucking her with the forcefulness that she requires. Shannon returns the favor by bouncing her pelvis up and down, adding to the sensations running through my manhood. I can only scream.

“Oh, fuck!”

Pleasure swells to its pinnacle…

…and arrives at a satisfying conclusion.

I come. Much longer than usual. I cannot imagine how much semen I’ve just ejaculated into this measly condom. More than twice than I usually do? Thrice? Who the fuck knows?

Finally, we come apart. Shannon stands up straight, kisses me one final time, picks me up with her burly arms, and takes me inside. I still do not know for sure if we had any spectators see our animalistic coupling just now. I suspect we did. But that’s just a baseless guess.

She drops me to the ground and my knees buckle. I fall feebly to the carpet. Now, I’m the one who’s out of breath. I peer up to see her. Once again, she’s standing over me. That smile has not left her pretty face. Her authority is tangible. It’s frightening how powerful she is right now and how weak I am. The contrast is jarring. Yet, in my weakness, I feel no shame. I feel ecstatic, in fact. I feel…masculine. The most masculine I’ve never felt in my life, ironically in the presence of a much bigger and stronger woman. I don’t feel any humiliation or emasculation. Quite the opposite.

It’s funny how paradoxical life can be at times, isn’t it?

Regardless of the real power dynamics actually going on in this room, there’s one constant that never ceases to exist. There I am, in the presence of the most beautiful creature I’ve ever been privileged to meet. She’s standing tall, I am on the floor.

Looking up to her.