The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Nineteen – Fired

Sure enough, I was very sore the next day. Come Monday morning, I could barely get out of bed without being reminded of my aching pelvis.

Oh well. That’s a small price to pay for experiencing the greatest night of my life.

The greatest night of my life. Yes…I can actually say that. It truly was the greatest single night of my life. The morning afterward wasn’t bad either.

But alas, I have to go to work because that’s what responsible adults do. So here I am, it’s 10:26 a.m. and I’m stuck in the laundry room cleaning sweat towels nobody bothered to do anything about yesterday. This is not an unusual occurrence.

Ho hum. What to do? I have to wait a whole week till I can see Cindi again. Damn. That’s going to be hard. All I can think about is Cindi North and the carnal activities we shared on Saturday night. I bet if I told every single person here at Wellford Fitness Center I had sex with a female bodybuilder this past weekend, none of them would believe me.

Who cares? I know it’s true and that’s all that matters.

Michelle, the cute receptionist/personal trainer whom every guy here wants to bang, enters the laundry room carrying a whole new batch of dirty towels. Good God, how many are there? I can’t remember the last time I had to clean so many at once. Is there a sweat epidemic going on around here?

“Here you go. Sorry, Ryan.” Michelle sets the basket down on a table next to me.

“No problem. It’s my job. Are there more people than usual here today?”

“Yes, I think so. I had four clients show up already. That almost never happens.”

“Hm.” My monotonous response is borne out of the dread of having to smell more people’s drippings. Will this madness ever stop?

Michelle prepares to leave but stops before she gets through the door.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I turn around, surprised by this. Michelle almost NEVER wants to make casual conversation with me. Especially when we’re busy at work. Doesn’t she have another client to attend to? And why would she want to hang out around here? I’d think the stench alone would encourage her to run out of here as fast as she can.

“Sure, Michelle. What’s your question?”

“Are you dating that girl that I saw you with the other day?”

I’m taken aback by this comment. Who is she referring to? Cindi North? Did Michelle see me with Cindi North this past weekend? That’s impossible, unless Michelle happened to be in Everett at the same time I was. I suppose that’s possible, but it’s not likely…

“What girl are you talking about? Does she work out here?”

“Yes, she does. I saw you talking with this really pretty black girl at that coffee place down the road. Are you hooking up with her or something?”

“Oh! You mean Monifa. You’re right; I was having lunch with her last week. No, we’re not dating. We just met each other. Gee, you’re quite the stalker!”

Michelle takes a few steps toward me, assuring me she wasn’t being a creeper. Ah…this makes sense! Of course she wouldn’t have seen me with Cindi North. She easily could have seen me with Monifa. And, Monifa does in fact work out here regularly.

“Ha! I’m not stalking you. I just thought it was kind of cool. Do you know she’s one of my clients now? I’m helping her get ready for a bodybuilding competition.”

My head starts to spin as I hear this. Monifa is training to become a bodybuilder? Really? Does she have time to do that? I guess bodybuilding is sort of an art and she does consider herself to be an “artist.” She can live her life the way she wants to, I suppose.

“You are? That’s kind of cool. I had no idea she wants to become a bodybuilder.”

“She says it’s something she wants to try. Why not? Live a little, right?”

“Right. Live a little.”

I stare down at the floor. I sense Michelle is doing the same thing. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had together. She doesn’t usually have this much to say to me. I guess it is rather juicy to see a client have lunch with a coworker outside of work.

“Ryan? Can I ask you another question?”

My eyes leave the floor. I look up at her. Michelle looks gorgeous today, her beach blonde hair waving carelessly below her shoulders. Her fit, toned body is openly on display in her tight black Wellford Fitness Center shirt and petite white shorts. Her breasts look scrumptious, as if they’re beckoning me to give them a firm squeeze. I know for a fact I’d be fired for sexual harassment if I ever considered doing that!

“Yeah, sure. What’s your other question?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Silence.

“Um…uh…I, er, I…”

“Answer me truthfully. Don’t worry. I won’t get offended by whatever you say.”

“Uh…yes! I do find you attractive. You’re one of the prettiest people I know. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes it does. Thanks.”

“Hm…why do you ask? That’s not exactly a typical normal question you ask a coworker, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do. I ask that because…this is going to sound weird, but…when I saw you and Monifa having lunch together that day…I, uh, felt a little…jealous.” Michelle is now the one staring down at the floor. Her feet shift side to side uncomfortably.

I think about this for a moment. Jealous? Why on earth would Michelle, a Perfect Blonde, a Perfect 10, be jealous seeing me having lunch with another woman? It’s not like Michelle and I ever dated before. We’re just coworkers! To top it off, this is without a doubt the longest conversation I’ve ever had with her in all the years we’ve worked together.

WTF???

“Jealous? Um, why are you jealous seeing me with her?”

“I don’t know! I just felt a bit, you know, betrayed seeing you with her. I know…this shit makes no sense. I’m fucked up in the head or something, you know?”

“No, no, no…you’re not fucked up or anything. Maybe you feel, I don’t know…like you’re in competition with her. Is that it?”

“Yeah…that’s probably it. She’s gorgeous and she has a fucking amazing body. I look terrible compared to her.”

“Hey, don’t say that! You look great. Why would you think you look terrible? That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m old. I feel so old!” Tears start to form in her eyes. Oh great! Michelle’s having a midlife crisis at the tender age of 36. Cindi’s 48 and you never see her complain about her age. What’s the world coming to–

“Fuck me.”

My mind turns blank. I look at Michelle but nothing registers in my mind. Did I just hear that correctly?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Fuck me. Right here, right now. Fuck me!”

“Um…I don’t know about this. Isn’t this a bit…sudden?”

“I don’t give a shit. I want you to fuck me, Ryan!”

Michelle turns around, pulls down her shorts and her panties and bends over, exposing her gorgeous round butt to me. Her vulva is glistening, wet and ready. Unlike Cindi, Michelle’s pink vaginal lips look soft and feminine, whereas the Muscle Goddess looks like a burlap sack down there (I know, that’s a crude analogy, but give me a break!). My penis hardens and stands at attention, awakening to this unexpected opportunity.

“I’m not so sure about this…what if Thomas sees us?”

“Who gives a shit about him? I want you to fuck me! Fuck me now!”

“Oh, uh, do you have a condom?”

“Screw that shit! I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yeah…I’m clean.”

“Then we don’t need one. What the fuck are you waiting for? I’ve asked you a million times to fuck me! What are you, scared?”

Scared? Hell no! I’m not scared! What gives her the right to call me scared?

“Fuck you! I’m not scared of anything!”

Anger running through my system, I unzip my pants, pull down my underwear, grip Michelle’s hips and shove my penis inside her, hard and reckless. This time, I’m going to take charge and fuck her like she’s never been fucked before!

Like two wild animals, Michelle remains bent over as I thrust into her from behind. My fingers dig into her flesh as I pound and pound, releasing any pent-up aggression and any doubt that I’m afraid to have sex with a woman in a public place. Wow! This is really something. A beautiful blonde just pulled down her pants and demands I shtup her on the spot.

What is this, the plot to a cheap porno?

As my penis continues to thrust in and out of her, Michelle’s heavy breathing gives way to a loud moan and fills the entire room. Not even the rumble of the washing machine cleaning the towels can completely muffle the sound of us fornicating in the laundry room.

A million thoughts run through my mind at once. Here I am having sex with a prototypical blonde bombshell who never spoke more than two sentences to me at a time. She’s also someone with a checkered past, given the less-than-stellar reputations of some of her previous boyfriends. I also realize she might be going through an early midlife crisis and this is her way of reclaiming her lost youth. Is she jealous that I preferred to socialize with a younger woman like Monifa instead of her? But she never gave any indication that she wants anything to do with me!

And she’s only 36! She’s not old. She looks great for her age. She looks like she can pass for 23 or 24…

These thoughts linger as my orgasm builds ferociously. I feel my climax approaching. My quick thrusts become slower and more measured as I try to penetrate her as deep as I can. I keep imagining Big Danny (her ex-husband) and his extremely huge penis thrusting into her tight little body. How am I doing? Can I compare to him? Is my little Asian penis any match for Danny’s gargantuan, monstrous endowment? Is she feeling anything?

Her loud moans stop and she lets out an uncontrolled scream, loud enough that I’m sure everyone outside this room can hear. But I don’t care about that as I sense my climax coming closer and closer…

“Hey! What the hell!!!”

Michelle stops moving and stands upright. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thomas Wellford, our boss and owner of this gym, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and outrage on his face. The moment Michelle sees we’ve been caught she jerks forward, my penis suddenly leaving her vagina. This sudden jerk is the final act of stimulation I need to come…

“Aggghhhhh!” I groan, looking up with my eyes closed as I ejaculate all over the floor.

“Holy shit!” Michelle screams to herself, realizing our impromptu coitus session will get both of us in big trouble.

Thomas closes the door behind him and takes a few cautious steps toward us. My mind returning back to reality, I look down and see my semen sprawled across the floor. Did my boss just see me come? Oh FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This…is…unbelievable, you two. This is serious. What the hell are you doing?!!!!” Thomas yells at us. This is going to get ugly. Really ugly. Oh shit…

Michelle’s face is beet red. We’ve been caught literally with our pants down. This is definitely THE MOST AWKWARD MOMENT OF MY LIFE!

“I don’t believe this shit. Half the gym can hear you guys fucking. Are you both out of your minds? What the fuck is going on here? Don’t you know what professionalism means? Really? You two are fucking…in here? During work hours? What the HELLLLLL!!!!!!”

Thomas is REALLY pissed. Holy mother of God. This is bad.

At this moment, Thomas is steaming (I swear I can see smoke coming out of his ears), Michelle is crying and I’m befuddled beyond words.

And this entire time, my semen is awkwardly lying on the floor.

Fuck my life…

***

I’ll spare you the ugly details, but long story short…we both got fired.

Michelle was supposed to see a client but she never reported to the front desk, so Thomas personally searched all over the building for her. And when he found us, we were “in flagrante delicto,” going at it like two bunny rabbits during mating season.

We said nothing to each other as Michelle and I gloomily walked out of the fitness center with our heads hanging low. No words, no looks, nothing to acknowledge that we even know each other. There we were, no more than twenty minutes earlier screwing each other like wild dogs, pretending like we’re total strangers.

This is a sad day for both of us.

Fired. Just like that. Out of a job. Nothing can possibly make this painful awkwardness go away.
This is going to be the longest walk home EVER.

Ten minutes later, emotions still flooding through me, I had a thought. As we speak, some poor chap at the Wellford Fitness Center, probably either Robbie or Maria (two employees who regularly work there when I do), is on their knees scrubbing my semen off the floor.

My semen. My seed.

Awkwardly staining the carpet.

This thought puts a smile across my face.

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The Strangeness of Having a Female Muscle Fetish

Lauren Powers is lovely.

I often wonder how many straight men, if they were forced to give an honest answer, would admit to being attracted to muscular women.

Mainstream society tends to frown upon women who’ve gained too much muscle. For example, we like our female athletes to remain feminine, beautiful and graceful even when they’re in the middle of hitting a tennis ball, shooting a free throw, skiing, sprinting at full speed or smacking a softball. Gymnasts, naturally, are supposed to be graceful, so this is an obvious exception.

Female athletes like Venus and Serena Williams, Hope Solo and Lolo Jones are right at the cusp of being “too muscular” while remaining “easy on the eyes.” As long as they keep winning Olympic medals and championship trophies, we’ll endure seeing their non-conformist figures on ESPN for now.

But this is not supposed to be a rant against sexism in mainstream American sports. This is about something else entirely.

In a previous post, I talked about the allure of female bodybuilders. This post is by far the most popular individual post I’ve written on this blog. I think its popularity can be credited to two aspects: 1. Search engines like Google and Bing, and 2. Curiosity.

Straight men (I can’t speak for lesbian women) are not often given a forum to discuss weird sexual fetishes in places other than the Internet. You don’t often hear two dudes talk about their love for feet at a crowded Starbucks on a lazy Sunday morning. Nor do you hear a bunch of football lovin’ good ol’ boys talk about their “thing” for overweight MILFs while watching the game at a bar. These are not topics we discuss in public.

So, I will attempt to dissect and explain to the best of my abilities my personal reasons for being sexually attracted to muscular women. Let’s see where this goes…

The Beginning of My Awakening

This is how it all started. Embarrassing, I know.

I understand “The Beginning of My Awakening” sounds ridiculously overdramatic, but bear with me.

I can’t pinpoint an exact time when I began to be attracted to muscled ladies, but I think it can be traced to this one time when I was a little boy (I was probably no more than 8-years-old), I was at a video store (for you young kids out there, once upon a time ago when we wanted to watch a movie we had to go to a video store like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video and rent a VHS cassette. This is practically ancient history) with my mom and I saw the cover for the movie “Red Sonja,” a cheesy 1985 B-action movie starring Brigitte Nielsen and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I will admit, I’ve never seen this movie nor do I ever plan on seeing it. The 4.7 rating it received on IMDb is not exactly convincing me to go out and rent it.

Alina Popa is divine.

But I distinctly remember, as an impressionable prepubescent little boy, being taken aback by the movie’s cover: It showed two warriors, one male and one female. The male is obviously strong and tough, which any male action hero should be. But seeing a female warrior also look intimidating and ready to kick butt opened my eyes to a whole other world.

Women can be tough, too.

As an 8-year-old boy raised on hyper-violent Saturday morning cartoons and action figures, this was without a doubt a paradigm-shifting realization.

Of course, as I got older I started to “notice” girls once puberty hit. At the tender age of 12, I encountered my second experience with a tough, nontraditional woman. My parents bought a copy of the Guinness Book of World Records for the year 1999 and inside were tons of colorful photos of people doing all sorts of weird and hardcore things.

One page stood out in particular, though: a full color photo of Cory Everson. In it, she looked startling. It was the first time I’d ever seen a woman with bulging muscles all over her body.

She looked freakish; as if she weren’t human. I didn’t want to say she looked gross, but my hormone-driven mind couldn’t process what I was seeing: a woman with muscles. In the years afterward, I would continuously turn back to this particular page to gaze upon this indescribably sight.

Later, when my family first got the Internet (we had dial-up. Remember that?), I discovered the joys of online porn. Like any teenage boy discovering the opposite sex (and the concept of “sex”), viewing pictures of naked women on a computer screen occupied many hours of my life and led me to also discover masturbation, an activity I still enjoy today.

However, it wasn’t until college that I truly became enamored with muscled women.

The Female Muscle Fetish Begins

As a freshman in college, I began to work out regularly. During high school I casually lifted weights at home, but the first time I ever stepped foot into a gym was visiting my university’s recreational center on campus. It was small and, looking back upon it, unremarkable; but it was a gym nevertheless.

I lifted weights probably around three times a week. As a beginning weightlifter, I used poor form and technique like any novice would. It even came to a point when people working out next to me would stop me during my work out and tell me how to do certain lifts the right way. Those were embarrassing moments.

Lisa Marie Bickels changed my life. Will she change yours?

This video changed my life, just like that cover of “Red Sonja” and that photo of Cory Everson. Though the video was amateurish and grainy, it showed a beautiful woman working out and showing off her gorgeous muscled arms. Sculpted and divine, Ms. Bickels opened my eyes to an Earth-shattering fact: muscular women can also be feminine and beautiful.

That hyper-muscular photo of Ms. Everson isn’t the only way to view female bodybuilders. They don’t all look “man-like.” They’re just typical women. The only difference is that they’re women who strive to be as strong as possible.

Who wouldn’t want Czech muscle goddess Katka Kyptova as a workout buddy?

As expected, over time I visited YouTube and watched videos of countless other female bodybuilders such as Karen Zaremba, Maryse Manios, Deidre Pagnanelli, Lynn McCrossin, Monica Brant, Krissy Chin and others. I must have seen literally hundreds of videos during my freshman year of these well-defined ladies posing for photos, doing incredible lifts or being interviewed.

It wasn’t until after graduation when I moved back home that I discovered a whole other world: Hardcore porn.

The World of Smut

I feel like this is a progression. First, it was a cover of a b-movie. Next, it was a sports photo in a record book. Then it was a short online video of a woman exercising. Then it was a whole slew of YouTube videos of muscle ladies doing their thing.

Finally, we get to the next step in my personal muscle fetish evolution: porn.

The first hardcore porn video I ever saw was Lynn McCrossin and Yvette Bova, two gorgeous FBBs, pleasuring each other in a steam room. Before then, I’d never seen a woman’s genitalia up close and personal on a computer screen before. And not just any type of genitalia: These two women have very large feminine endowments, something you don’t see every day.

Yvette Bova is not afraid to flaunt her sexuality.

This epic discovery opened the doors to watching other kinds of videos: Female bodybuilders having sex with men, FBBs having sex with each other, FBBs masturbating, FBBs playing with sex toys, FBBs posing nude, etc. This was the first time I ever saw female bodybuilders as sexual beings. I definitely fantasized about them before, but I’d never actually seen them in action before until now.

Smut can be a funny thing. Once you see what people choose to do in their bedrooms, you can never look at the world the same way.

Watching porn (both hardcore and softcore) introduced me to other female bodybuilders like Francesca Petitjean, Denise Masino, Melissa Dettwiller, Lauren Powers, Gayle Moher, Yvette Bova, Victoria Dominguez, Amber DeLuca, Autumn Raby, Roxie Rain and plenty others. While I don’t want to categorize any of them as “pornographic actresses,” I discovered these women thanks to videos of them either being nude and/or engaging in sex acts.

Another photo of Lisa Cross. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Along the way, I also discovered other FBBs like Alina Popa, Katka Kyptova, Lisa Cross, Angela Salvagno, Karla Nelsen, Colette Nelson and others via Dailymotion, Google Images and Facebook pages.

Regarding FBBs and porn, I could write a whole post discussing this topic. But for now, I’ll just say this: If a woman (or man) makes an independent decision to pose for photos or shoot videos that are sexually explicit, who are we to judge? It’s their bodies. They can do whatever they want with it.

Fantasy vs. Reality

Unlike a lot of guys who are into muscle women, the sub-genre of erotica called “Female Muscle Growth” stories isn’t really my thing. These stories usually involve a guy meeting a dainty, weak girl who, either by magic or through some scientific potion, grows a freakish amount of muscle to become superhuman. For whatever reason, I’m only attracted to watching and looking at strong, muscled women doing real things; like pumping iron, posing for pictures or doing whatever they do in porn.

Personally, I’ve never met a professional (or amateur) female bodybuilder, so my only exposure to FBBs is through the glorious wonders of the Internet.

The closest I’ve ever been to a real FBB was back in college when, for some reason I could never quite figure out, I walked past a woman (she was older and clearly not a student) in our student union building with huge arms busting out of her short sleeve shirt. I didn’t get a clear look at her, but I could tell she didn’t just casually lift at the gym. I could tell she puts extra effort into her exercising.

Speaking of the gym, most of the women who go to my gym either do only cardio exercises or attend classes like Zumba, Pilates and yoga. Only a small handful of women lift with us guys. Of them, only two of these ladies have any discernible muscle definition. Too bad.

So…in other words, I’m attracted to the real thing, not a fantasy. I’m not turned on by the idea of a strong, muscular woman. I’m turned on by actual strong, muscular women. Nor do I have any alternative fantasies involving role playing or BDSM.

The idea of wrestling an FBB doesn’t appeal to me. Neither is being tied up and spanked by one. Nor do I want an FBB to wrap her legs around me in a headlock. Instead, I’d prefer to make love to a beautiful, strong athletic woman just as though she were any other kind of woman.

Karen Zaremba is living proof that muscles doesn’t in any way shape or form compromise a woman’s femininity.

I guess this means I don’t necessarily fetishize female bodybuilders; I’m just attracted to them in a special way. They’re women who take great care of their bodies. They’re women who spend countless hours pumping iron at the gym and making lots of dietary and lifestyle sacrifices in order to get their bodies to look the way they want it to look. There’s a lot to admire about that.

Some women starve themselves to look “beautiful.” Others go under the knife to remove any perceived “blemishes.” Some hate themselves because when they look in the mirror all they can see are “imperfections.” My previous post about FBBs best summarizes why I’m personally attracted to a woman with muscle. The purpose of this post is to give you some context and perhaps a deeper explanation.

So…What’s the Big Deal Anyway?

Simply put, I’m attracted to female bodybuilders because they are, quite simply, beautiful. I hope others who share my attraction feel the same way. I hope you now understand that being attracted to a lovely muscled lady isn’t weird, strange or disgusting. There’s nothing incomprehensible about it.

A woman with muscles is still a woman. She’s not a woman trying to be a man. She’s a woman trying to become the best woman she can possibly be. That’s another great reason to be physically and emotionally attracted to her.

Perhaps, little by little, society can start accepting muscular woman as a normal thing instead of a freak of nature. I strongly believe when people are disgusted by a muscled woman, it’s because there’s some deep rooted sexism at play. Plenty of people in our society still expect women to be dainty, weak and ultra-feminine. Anyone who rebels against this is either a “gender traitor” or a monster.

Look at the photos of the FBBs I’ve put in this post. Are any of them disgusting to you? Do you find any of them “masculine,” “repulsive,” or “monstrous?” If you do, I think that reflects more on you than it does on me.

But please don’t misinterpret me. I’m not claiming to be some quasi-feminist activist. I’m not claiming to be “sexually progressive” in my attraction to FBBs. I’m not trying to destroy the foundations of gender roles or sexual politics by this post or through my blog. All I want to do is express my opinion that being attracted to a muscular woman isn’t all that strange.

In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Muscular women are healthy, curvy, dedicated, passionate and strong-willed. Who could possibly be turned off by that?

So the next time you encounter or see an image of a female bodybuilder, female athlete or a woman who takes her fitness hobbies very seriously, keep an open mind and try to appreciate a different side of life.

Who knows? You might just enjoy it.

You also might enjoy this shot of the lovely Victoria Dominguez.

The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi: Chapter Eighteen – The Morning After

At 9:45 a.m. I wake up, vaguely remembering my dream. I think it had something to do with going back to school and finishing a biology exam, but I could be wrong. Who needs to dream when real life is so much more exciting?

I lazily turn to my left and see Miss North snoozing like an angel. Her black and gray hair covers her face, shielding her eyes from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. Lovingly, I pull back a lock of her hair and lightly caress her face.

Cindi stirs, feeling my fingers on her cheek. When she takes my finger into her mouth and sucks on it lightly, I know she has fully awoken.

“Good morning, Cindi.”

“Good morning to you, Ryan. You taste sweet.” Nibbling on my finger, I sense that my penis has also woken up from its slumber. As if she has a sixth sense for these things, Cindi reaches down and strokes up and down my shaft, sending goosebumps shivering up my body.

“Thank you, but you’re much sweeter than me.” Kissing her right breast, I gently take her nipple between my lips and play with it with my tongue. Releasing a hushed moan, her fingers wrap tighter around my manhood, as if she’s grabbing onto it for dear life.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just saying thank you for all you did for me last night.”

“Oh, thanks. But remember, lovemaking is a two-way road. You also did things to me as well, wouldn’t you say?” As if trying to job my memory, Cindi cups my scrotum and tenderly squeezes it. I groan, expressing my pleasure.

“Yes, you’re right about that. A lot happened to me last night, but I’m sure it’s just par for the course with you.”

“Are you calling me a whore?” Cindi sounds genuinely offended.

“No! Of course not! I’m just saying–”

“Shhhhhh!!!! Don’t get so chippy! I’m joking, Ryan.”

Cindi releases my testicles and sticks a finger up my anus, just as I did to her last night in the shower. I gasp loudly, but not with the shock of Cindi intruding my body, but with the delightful astonishment of her returning the favor.

“How does it feel to have a woman penetrate you? Does it feel good?” Cindi’s finger digs deeper inside me, as if she’s claiming ownership over me. I have no qualms about Cindi North claiming me as her own.

“It feels…strange. Is this what it feels like…to…you know, be penetrated back there?” I almost stop breathing. My lungs fill with air, but cannot exhale as long as she’s inside me.

“Yes. Because that’s exactly what’s happening to you right now.” Cindi releases her finger from my bottom and kisses me deeply on the lips, tasting every centimeter of my mouth. Our tongues meet, wrestling like two heavyweights grappling on the mat.

“What shall we have for breakfast?” Cindi asks. I struggle to catch my breath as our lips come apart.

“I have no idea. I don’t live here. What do you suggest we have for breakfast?”

“I know exactly what we should eat.” Cindi kisses me again. Then, she grabs my head with both hands and shoves me down toward her pubic mound. Her enormous clitoris stands at attention, ready to be satiated.

“Eat me for breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I begin by wrapping my lips around her “little penis,” sucking at its head till I hear Cindi let out a loud, uninhibited groan. I then stick one, then two fingers inside her vagina, exploring her inner walls. They are already moist and hot to the touch.

Cindi spreads her bulky legs wide in a spread eagle formation, opening her womanhood wider to me. I notice a small drop of feminine juice leak out from her vulva. It leaves a small, clear stain on the bed sheet. This arouses me further.

My fingers find her g-spot as my tongue continues to punish her clitoris. Waves of sensation pulse through Cindi’s dynamic body, leaving this muscular angel weak and helpless. She is at my mercy, a feeling of domination that sends surges of adrenaline rushing through me.

A third finger enters her, complimenting what my two fingers are already doing. I lightly blow hot air onto her wet clitoris, causing Cindi to gasp even louder than when I gasped. I am still in shock that a woman could be so well endowed. Her “little penis” grows harder and harder, anticipating a raging orgasm.

Cindi grabs my hair and pulls it, almost lifting my mouth off her womanhood. I resist, remaining between her legs, pleasuring her like she pleasured me last night. My three fingers suddenly thrust against her g-spot, forcing a vulgar scream to bellow from her throat.

Finally, Cindi can’t hold it any longer and she climaxes, sending waves of delight streaming across the entire room. Hell, her climax is probably being felt on the Richter scale at this moment!

A clear jet of white, milky fluid escapes from her vagina as her walls contract powerfully. It leaves a significant stain on the sheets, adding to the previous stain she made earlier.

Holy hell.

HOLY FUCK!!!

Did she just ejaculate? Did I just cause Cindi to ejaculate? I think it did.

Hooooooooooooooooooooooooootttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cindi’s breathing calms down and she eventually returns back to planet Earth. Her eyes open and she looks at me, smiling and puffing away.

“Thank you, Ryan. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Uh, Cindi, you…kind of…uh…”

“Squirted?”

Her nonchalant answer took me by surprise. I immediately sat up after hearing this singular word escape from her mouth.

“Yes…that’s exactly what I meant. You, um…squirted. All over your sheets.”

“I’ve been known to do that when someone hits my g-spot at the right time with the right amount of force. Congratulations, Ryan. You did something hardly anyone can do without specific instructions.”

I feel proud. Really? Did I just do that? Did I just give her an orgasm so powerful it caused her to ejaculate like a man? WOW!

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m proud of the fact that I can squirt as well as any man.”

Cindi sticks out her chest and beats on her breast like Tarzan. I laugh, causing her to laugh with me. She might be a powerful, dominating, muscular woman, but she’s still a softie at heart. I like this about her.

“Are you sure you can squirt as well as any man?”

“Of course. When properly motivated.”

“Men can squirt pretty well when they’re properly motivated, too.” I nibble on her ear. Taking my not-so-subtle hint, Cindi reaches down and grabs onto my penis with both hands, rubbing up and down furiously.

“I think I know what you mean.”

Before I could speak, Cindi kisses me, an electric shock bolting down my spine. Her fingers wrapped tightly around my manhood, with reckless abandon Cindi strokes up and down, causing my vision to blur. On the apex of the proverbial “Cloud 9,” I feel my orgasm build as her right hand surrounds me, refusing to let go.

“I love this, Ryan. I love this so much!” Cindi whispers into my ear, as if she enjoys giving pleasure as much as she enjoys receiving pleasure. At this point, who could argue either way?

Cindi’s thumb brushes against the tip of my penis, making me shudder. Then she grips the base of my manhood and squeezes it suddenly, sending me over the edge. I climax, powerful spasms rocking my entire being.

Five or six squirts later, I look down and see several drops of my semen lying on her bed sheets, shamelessly sprawled out on top of her womanly juices. We kiss again, but with less ferocity and with more passion.

We both look down at the mess we made and burst out laughing for what seems like ten minutes. Can you believe two mature adults, one 48 and the other 23-years-old, just wet the bed?

Our laughter dies down. Tears are rolling down our faces. We kiss again.

“I’m sorry I stained your sheets.” Embarrassed, I must be red in the face.

Cindi kisses my cheek and smiles.

“It’s okay. I did too!”

We burst out laughing again, this time our laughter lasts an eternity.

Eventually, we clean up our mess and toss the bed sheets into the washing machine. She starts a load of laundry, which includes a large pile of workout shirts, shorts and towels. We put our clothes back on and go downstairs toward the kitchen. It’s now time for REAL breakfast!

Cindi doesn’t feel like cooking, so we eat leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. Who knew quinoa still tastes good the next day?

After breakfast, Cindi takes out the laundry from the washer and places it in the dryer in preparation for her Sunday afternoon workout. Cindi tells me today is a chest day. Imagining Cindi bench press 350 pounds is enough to give me another erection. Surprisingly, I remain settled.

“Can you come over again next Saturday? We can do dinner again.”

“Of course! I’d love to. I think I should bring something else instead of just a bottle of wine. I can cook something!”

“You can do that? I’d love for you to bring something. Just make sure it’s healthy.”

“Without a doubt! I’d never bring anything unhealthy here.”

“I’m just kidding. I do have a sweet tooth. I can be very naughty at times.”

“Tell me about it! You are a naughty girl.” I squeeze her thigh. The feel of her large, muscular legs almost gives me a heart attack.

Cindi plants one last kiss on me as I head out the door. Gasping for air, I decide to hug her. We embrace for a very long time, savoring every moment. I should be thankful for this wonderful, gracious woman. She took me into her home, cooked me a delicious meal, took my virginity and treated me to an evening I will never forget. I’ll never forget this morning, either.

“Thanks, Cindi. For everything.”

“No, Ryan. Thank you. You’re a great guy. I’m glad I know you.” We embrace again, this time under the watchful eye of Cindi’s next door neighbors. Who cares if the whole world sees us like this? They can judge all they want. What we do in our own private time is nobody’s business but our own.

“I’m glad I know you, too. Have a good workout.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The short walk back to my car is very surreal. I came to his house yesterday a virgin, but I left a man. A real man. Yes, Cindi told me I was always a man, but this morning things are totally different. I genuinely feel different. I feel more grown up, more confident, more vibrant.

I can take on the whole world! Nobody can get in my way! Watch out, universe. Ryan Takahashi has arrived, and he’s taking no prisoners!!!

I wave one last time to Cindi as I drive away back to Seattle. She waves back, blowing me an air kiss. I almost hit a mailbox, but swerve out of the way at the last second.

As I drive home, I realize I just had six orgasms in the last twelve hours. Gee, I’m going to be so sore tomorrow!

But it will be well worth it.

VEEEEEEEEEEEERY well worth it.

Six Words I’ll Never Use When Writing Erotica

I’ll admit. I’m a newbie.

This blog is my first ever venture into writing erotica.

And what an adventure it has been!

I’ve learned a lot from reading other blogs to see their approaches to writing online erotic stories. I’ve also learned quite a bit from flipping through cheap dime store romance novels. But I still do not consider myself to be a “pro” by any stretch of the imagination!

However, I do have my standards when it comes to the style of my writing.

Even though I haven’t been writing erotica for very long, I’ve already created for myself a few basic rules that guide my writing. I earned my B.A. in journalism, so I’m already used to following a written style guide (I use the Associated Press, in case any of you were curious).

My primary story, “The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi,” deals with many things, but chief among them: sex. And, naturally, when you write about sex, inevitably things are going to get a little dirty.

But let’s face it; that’s why we read erotica in the first place, isn’t it?

But I don’t think of erotic fiction as being “porn.” Porn, more often than not, lacks any sort of art and only exists to titillate and excite. Erotic fiction exists to do those things but within the context of characters, plot and ideas. I don’t consider myself an accomplished erotic writer by any means but I would like to think I’m entertaining what few faithful readers I have.

(Thank you, by the way, to ALL of you who have read or stumbled upon my blog so far!)

I strive to write erotic fiction that still contains basic elements of storytelling even when dealing with sexually-charged subject matter. Just because a story deals with S-E-X doesn’t mean it has to be filthy. Filth is for children. Erotica is for adults.

That’s why there are certain words I will never use in my writing. I don’t want to sound like an elitist, but I have a distinct set of immature words that I don’t think belong in fiction intended for adults. These are words best reserved for the playground.

So, here’s a brief rundown of said words I will never use in my writing:

  1. Dick
  2. Cunt
  3. Pussy
  4. Cum
  5. Ass
  6. Cock

I don’t know about you, but these six words just seem a little too crass for me. Using the word “pussy” instead of “vagina” sounds too much like grade school kids talking about what they just overheard their older siblings talk about.

Additionally, “pussy” is often used as a derogatory term for someone who’s perceived as being weak or lacking self-respect. This sexist term doesn’t belong in my writing.

“Dick” also doesn’t sound right to me. I prefer the traditional term “penis.” Maybe it’s because “dick” is a derogatory term for someone who’s a jerk. This is another negative association I don’t want my readers to be subjected to when reading my stories.

“Cock” is another word I don’t like. Maybe because when I think of the word “cock,” I think about a rooster. “Cock” isn’t necessarily a crass word, but there are better alternatives out there.

The word “cunt” is so taboo that we often refer to it as the “c-word.” I don’t know much about the origin of this word, but it doesn’t seem necessary, especially when there’s that perfectly legitimate word, “vagina,” also available.

Is “vagina” such a taboo word that we’d rather use “pussy,” “cunt,” “snatch” and other euphemisms instead? Maybe a lot of writers don’t want to sound like they’re writing an anatomy textbook. I get that.

Two euphemisms I prefer to use are “manhood” when referring to a man’s genitalia and “womanhood” when referring to a woman’s genitalia. I find these terms more empowering and conducive to describing their God-given biology.

Of course, all rules are meant to be broken. There is one exception when I would (and eventually will) use these six words: in the context of dialogue. Dialogue between characters who would use these words is the only place where I’d be comfortably referring to a man’s semen as “cum.” What’s wrong with “semen?” Does it remind you of a group of sailors exploring the high seas?

So there you have it. I think language is important and what words you use can have a tremendous effect on your readers. Good erotica should stimulate the imaginations of your audience. Using middle school language like “pussy” while describing the act of cunnilingus might turn some people off.

Once again, I don’t claim to be a great erotic fiction writer. I’m just laying out my reasons for using medically-correct terms like “penis” and “vagina” when other writers would use “cock” and “cunt.”

If you want mature adults to read your writing, you should treat them like mature adults. There’s nothing wrong with reading smut, just as long as you have respect for the characters you create. Maybe it’s just me, but describing the act of lovemaking as “fucking her pussy so hard she cums like a bitch” doesn’t sound very dignified.

And if I do break these rules and use those six forbidden words outside of the context of dialogue, I give you full permission to punch me in the face the next time you see me on the streets.

Oh, wait. That would never happen. None of you know who I am!

Maybe this is why I prefer to remain anonymous…