A Most Magnificent Body of Work – Part Three of Five

An armed and dangerous Ludmila Kolesnikova.

Continued from part two

Damn. That was delicious.

Placing her fork on the plate, Deborah has finished the complimentary breakfast placed in front of her by the stewardess who hasn’t shown her face in the cabin in the past twenty-six minutes. There doesn’t appear to be a “call” button anywhere, so she has no choice but to put the tray off to the side on the table next to her seat. She quietly burps.

Well, I guess that means I’m not going to eat the food I brought with me. Unless, of course, our trip is much longer than I’m expecting…

Which begs the important question plaguing her mind: How long is this flight going to be?

Many moments pass. Still no one willing to communicate with her. The cabin is, as expected, quite cozy. There’s about a dozen seats spread across the room with a table and stack of magazines adjacent to each one. Next to the door leading to the cockpit is the restroom. Deborah has yet to need to use the lavatory, but that time will come sooner or later.

It then occurs to her that her suitcase has been stashed away somewhere she doesn’t know. A mysterious crew member took it. So she couldn’t access her Tupperware even if she wanted to…

Fuck. Why the hell am I worried about that shit? I’m about to go off to God-knows-where and meet some enigmatic mega-millionaire (or is it billionaire?) who singled me out for this “date.” I could get murdered. Or horribly violated. Or I could come back home with a bag full of $1 million without a single hair on my head being harmed. Or the eventual outcome could be somewhere in between.

Fuck. Which will it be?

“All I can do is sit back and wait,” she says to herself.

Indeed, that is correct.

The plane eventually crosses a large body of water. Deborah guesses this is the Pacific Ocean. She’s never had a keen sense of direction, but it appears as though they’re heading west, maybe southwest. Hawaii, perhaps? Or Australia? Maybe Japan or China or the Philippines. Regardless, it’s going to be a long ass flight no matter where they’re going. It doesn’t seem like they’re landing anytime soon. So there’s no need to endlessly speculate or mentally attempt to map out where they’re going.

Thus, this calls for a nap.

Deborah gives in to her tiredness (she’s struggled to sleep for the past couple of days for obvious reasons) and closes her eyes. A few minutes later she’s fast asleep, dreaming about her old college days, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends, and her childhood Labrador Retriever named Billy. She loved that old dog. She reckons she hasn’t seen him in almost twelve years. Holy shit. Time sure passes…

***

“Good afternoon, Miss Frost. We’re about to land in forty minutes,” a voice beckons, interrupting her peaceful slumber. Groggy and wishing she were still asleep, Deborah struggles to open her eyes but does so anyway. The voice belongs to that of Thin Fedora Man.

“Thank you,” Deborah responds.

Thin Fedora Man winks and returns back to the cockpit. What the fuck was that all about? He doesn’t seem like the type of chap who would wink at you. Whatever.

Deborah looks around and notices during her nap, someone – probably the elusive stewardess – closed all the shades, covering the windows completely. Just as she unbuckles her belt so that she can stand up and open one of them, the stewardess enters the cabin carrying a long piece of black cloth.

Amanda Ferre looking splendid.

“Hello, Miss Frost. Please, remain seated,” she says. Behind her a second crew member, who looks to be just as tall as Deborah and probably nearly as muscular, stands at attention. He’s probably there to ensure Deborah complies with the directions given to her. She is, however, in no mood to be disobedient and discover what the consequences would be for such insubordinate behavior.

“You’re going to have to wear this for the duration of our flight.”

Deborah passively nods her head in agreement, not that she has any choice in the matter.

“Splendid!”

The stewardess wraps the black cloth around Deborah’s head and ties it in the back. She is unable to see anything.

“Can you see anything?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s the idea!” She follows that up with a hearty laugh to lighten up the mood. Deborah doesn’t return the favor. She can’t tell if the stewardess is offended or indifferent to this.

“We’ll only be in the air for about thirty-five more minutes. Hang tight.” And just like that, she – and, presumably, the Hired Goon – exits the cabin. Deborah hears the door close. Well, that’s that. Now she has to “enjoy” the rest of her trip in complete darkness…

***

Eventually, the Silver Hawk lands on some kind of airstrip. Is it a private airport or a public one? Deborah has no fucking clue. All she knows is that this very long flight has come to a merciful end (she estimates it was between five and six hours long). Once the jet comes to a complete stop, Thin Fedora Man returns to the cabin and escorts her out of the plane.

“Follow me, Miss Frost. Take my hand for your safety.”

It burns Deborah’s feminist sensibilities to have to rely on a man to do the simple task of walking around, but with the black cloth covering her eyes she has no choice but to rely on his gracious assistance. He takes her to a car sitting on the runway. Deborah doesn’t hear any other airplanes landing or taking off, so she gathers they’ve landed on a private runway of some sort. She gets in the car and manages to buckle her own seatbelt. She has no idea if Thin Fedora Man gets in the car with her. The driver starts the ignition and rides off away from the airstrip.

The car ride is bumpier than she was expecting. There are lots of swerving, turning, and climbing uphill. Holy fuck. Where does this motherfucker live? On top of the Himalayas?

The driver doesn’t speak a word. But then again, what pleasant conversation was she going to have with him?

At last, the car stops and the driver kills the ignition. The door opens, most likely by Thin Fedora Man. Deborah gets out and stretches her long legs.

“We’re finally here. Are you feeling jetlagged, Miss Frost?” Thin Fedora Man unties the blindfold, liberating Deborah’s sensitive skin from the raggedly cloth.

“A little bit. I need a stiff drink. Does your client have any whiskey?” Adjusting her eyes to her new surroundings, Deborah blinks several times so that she can grow accustomed to the sunlight, which has evaded her for the past hour or so.

“Quite a few. His collection is impressive, if I may say so myself. Shall I tell him that you’d like to sample some of what he’s been able to obtain over the years?” Thin Fedora Man offers.

Before she can cordially respond, Deborah’s jaw drops at the sight of her new environment.

“Holy shit!”

She finds herself standing in front of a gorgeous marble colored mansion overlooking an exotic tropical beach. The mansion is complete with a swimming pool off to the side, a miniature golf course in the backyard, a shiny red Lamborghini sitting in the driveway, and a beautiful lighthouse majestically arranged on top of the orange clay tile roof on the far side of the building. Palm trees and impeccably trimmed hedges line the driveway. It appears as though they’re on top of a hill, situated right above the water. A cool breeze greets her. Deborah has only dreamed of visiting a home like this, never mind actually being able to spend a single night in it. Holy shit, this guy definitely has a lot of money lying around…

“It’s a lovely house, isn’t it?” Thin Fedora Man boasts with a grin. Deborah can only wordlessly shake her head up and down. The car that took her here begins to drive away. She sees her black suitcase sitting right next to her. She picks it up and follows Thin Fedora Man indoors.

Once inside, the interior of the mansion is just as stylish as one would expect from a place like this. Greek nude statues stand at attention in almost every room. The furniture looks specially made for the owner. Rich and colorful tapestries hang from the ceiling. A Turkish rug meets them at the doorway. A small army of butlers, cooks, housemaids, and personal assistants furiously scamper around like ants in a colony trying to please the Queen Ant. Or is it the King Ant?

This is what the mansion most likely looks like.

“You will meet him shortly. For dinner. Which is in one hour. Before then, everyone here, including myself, will vacate the premises and leave the two of you alone for the entire night,” Thin Fedora Man warns. “It’s how he wants it. It’s all part of his plan.”

It is at this moment that Deborah notices hundreds – it may not actually be hundreds, but is sure seems like it – of paintings of muscular women hanging on the walls. The tapestries are only in the first room she walked through. The paintings look personalized. They feature everything from female Trojan warriors to hypermuscular female Samurais to, of course, stereotypical Amazon warrior princesses. Why not? That’s to be expected.

“In the meantime, what should I do?” she innocently asks Thin Fedora Man.

“I will take you to your bedroom. You probably won’t sleep there tonight, but you can put your suitcase there for now. And, I hear he has a special outfit he wants you to wear for supper tonight.” Thin Fedora Man snaps his fingers and a short Hispanic woman with gray hair stops what she’s doing and obediently approaches them. “Take Miss Frost to her bedroom, please.”

The Hispanic woman nods her head silently. Deborah intuitively senses sadness in her eyes. She immediately feels sorry for her – and everyone who works here, for that matter. They might be getting paid generously, but she gets a creepy vibe from everyone. Is this a palace or a prison?

Deborah is led upstairs to the top floor. The Hispanic woman opens the door to a bedroom (it seems like there are at least three dozen bedrooms in this place) and motions for her to enter. Deborah does. Just as she’s about to thank her for being so helpful, she suddenly closes the door and locks it. Deborah tries to twist the knob open, but to no avail. She’s locked in. Until they let her out. For dinner. Which is in one hour.

Fuck me.

Deborah then looks at an elaborate costume hanging in front of a full-length mirror. It’s a detailed and very accurate replica of Lucy Lawless’s signature costume from Xena: Warrior Princess, a 1990s TV show she will not hesitate to admit she loved watching growing up. Apparently her host did too. Wait, does he actually expect her to wear this? For dinner?

Apparently he does.

Double fuck me.

***

After putting on the outfit – which, as remarkable as this sounds, fits perfectly as if someone had measured her body beforehand – all Deborah could do was sit on the bed and watch the clock tick toward 5:00 p.m. It’s now a few minutes before. That means dinner should commence any moment.

Before, Deborah felt insulted that she would be asked to wear such an outfit to dinner. However, she can now admit she looks fucking sexy in the Xena costume. It’s skimpy (of course) and generously shows off her large muscles.

A knock on the door startles her.

“Um, yes?”

“You are invited to join the host for dinner, Miss Frost,” Thin Fedora Man says.

Deborah gathers her composure, looks at herself once more in the mirror (she’s still damn impressed, despite her nervousness, at how she’s slaying in this outfit), and takes a deep breath.

A seaside bedroom.

“Thank you. I’m ready.” With that, Thin Fedora Man unlocks the door and opens it. Deborah gallantly exits the bedroom and looks at Thin Fedora Man in the eye. He rarely shows any emotion, but even he’s a red blooded male who cannot help but look upon her curvaceous muscles with lust.

“You look…absolutely stunning,” he remarks in a near trance-like state.

“I do my best,” Deborah quips.

Also trying to keep his composure, Thin Fedora Man leads Deborah downstairs to the dining room. For what feels like several miles – it is a big fucking mansion, after all – Deborah is once again in awe of the size and opulence of her surroundings. Wow, the rich sure do know how to live, don’t they?

They pass by the kitchen, which looks more like a restaurant-quality kitchen than one you’d typically find at someone’s house. The chef stops what he’s doing and takes a look at Deborah wearing the sexy Xena outfit. He almost drops a sharp knife on his foot, but thankfully does not and manages to keep a handle on it. Whew.

Finally, they reach the dining room. Thin Fedora Man motions for her to enter the room. She does. A larger-than-life twenty-five foot long dining table greets her. A lily white cloth covers the entire surface, with an ice sculpture of the Greek goddess Athena sitting in the middle. An impressive Japanese flower arrangement surrounds the sculpture. But before Deborah can fully process the finely chiseled piece of frozen water immodestly presented in front of her, she glances at the far end of the table and sees him.

You know. Him.

“Good evening, Miss Frost. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My god, you look absolutely stunning,” he says. The man stands up and confidently approaches her. Deborah almost faints when she realizes who it is.

“You’re….uh, you’re Jonathan Westmore!”

Jonathan smirks. He extends his hand. She extends hers and they shake. He’s taller than she anticipated, which is especially telling considering she stands at an imposing 6’2”. After for what seems like an eternity, Thin Fedora Man clears his throat. Both Jonathan and Deborah turn their attention toward him. Standing behind him are two wait staff carrying plates of food.

“Ahem. Dinner is now ready to be served. After we clean up in the kitchen, everyone on the premises will be ready to leave, as your instructions dictate,” he says.

“Thank you, Robert,” Jonathan calmly acknowledges.

Hm. “Robert” is Thin Fedora Man’s name? Uh, alright. I was expecting “Humbert” or “Carruthers,” but Robert will do, I suppose.

Robert leaves as the two staff members place the plates at their respective spots. Jonathan and Deborah are still standing face-to-face, neither of them willing to move an inch.

Lucy Lawless as Xena: Warrior Princess.

“Oh my god. Never in a million years would I expect you to be the man arranging this whole thing,” Deborah says. Her eyes are focused intently on Jonathan’s handsome face.

For those of you who are not aware, Jonathan Westmore is the former CEO of Westmore Capital, a venture capital firm that’s launched more than thirty of the largest corporations in the world. He inherited the company from his father, Peter Westmore, who founded the company shortly after returning home from serving in World War II. Peter married and divorced several times, but eventually settled down with a woman named Linda Sharpe, who once posed nude for Playboy and was at one point in her life considered a “rising superstar” in the modeling industry. After marrying Peter, she abandoned that dream and instead settled for living life as an ultra-wealthy housewife. Later, Jonathan was born, along with several other brothers and sisters. When Peter passed away in 1983, Jonathan, who was only 23 years old at the time, took over the reins of his father’s empire.

Jonathan transformed Westmore Capital from a largely successful American company into one of the most successful financial firms in the world. He became a celebrity who was even more popular than his father. He dated models (just like his mother used to be), Hollywood starlets, pop singers, Olympic athletes, and the daughters of other rich men. In 2012 he ran unsuccessfully for President of the United States of America as an independent third-party candidate. Deborah, and plenty of other women, voted for him. When you’re as rich, successful, and devilishly handsome as Jonathan Westmore, why the fuck wouldn’t you vote for him?

Alas, he had no chance of winning the highest political office in the nation, and simply retired from public life afterward. He stepped down from the company and appointed his daughter, Stephanie, as the new CEO. Though in his mid-50s, Jonathan still remains unmarried ever since his divorce from his fourth wife in 2005. Deborah has definitely had dreams of marrying him and living in one of his (many) stylish mansions across the globe, but she knows such a dream is likely never to come to fruition.

Except, after this stunning revelation, it very well could happen!

“Life can be full of surprises,” he laughs. “Please, sit down and enjoy supper.”

The menu tonight includes prime rib, mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, a stuffed tomato, and a kale and pear salad. A $5,000 bottle of Chateau Île de Bourguenolles wine complements the succulent meal. The wait staff promptly exits after their duty is finished. Jonathan and Deborah sit down at the table. She places the napkin on her lap, but notices her host staring at her conspicuously, visually taking in every single inch of her muscular flesh.

Prime rib. It’s what’s for dinner.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Miss Frost. May I call you Deborah?”

Deborah almost swallows her tongue at the sound of Jonathan Westmore saying her name like that. God damn, what’s the over-under on how long she can last without collapsing to the floor?

“Uh, of course you can call me Deborah! Debbie, if that floats your boat.” She takes in a deep breath, wanting to prevent herself from hyperventilating. Jonathan senses her nervousness and tries to put her at ease.

“Please, Debbie. It’s okay. You’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just sit back, relax, chat, and enjoy this delicious dinner,” he reassures her.

“I’m not scared. I’m just, you know, a bit overwhelmed at this whole thing,” she says. “Never in a million years did I expect to ever be able to meet you, Jonathan.”

He smiles, which melts her heart. She doesn’t notice that her left breast is completely hanging out of her costume, exposed for everyone to see. Her nipple is erect, signaling her arousal. Thankfully, she is blissfully unaware of her immodesty.

“Well, here you are. And here I am. But I’m famished. Shall we eat?”

She nods her head. Jonathan takes a sip from his glass of wine and beams with approval.

“Excellent! Bon appétit, Debbie dear.”

To be continued…

The Strap-On Fantasy: Ready, Willing, and Well-Endowed

Denise Masino showing Lisa Cross who’s the boss.

Imagine you’re lying on the ground with your hands and feet tied together with rope. There’s a gag in your mouth. You cannot speak a word. You struggle to move. But for some odd reason, you feel no desire to speak or move. You just lie there. Waiting. In complete silence.

Suddenly, a door opens. The silence is broken. You cannot look behind you, but you can clearly hear the clank of high heels banging against the cement floor. The steps come closer. And closer. And closer. Finally, the clanking stops. You hear a low gravelly voice barking out orders. It sounds masculine, but strangely feminine at the same time. But instead of being confused or perplexed, you’re frightened, nervous, and uncontrollably aroused all at the same time.

A strong pair of hands takes hold of you and turns you around. Finally, you see who it is that has graced your presence. It is that of a muscular woman. Tall, confident, and ripped from head to toe with big bulging muscles, she’s a sight you’ve never seen before. You will never forget this moment, the moment your eyes first see her size and strength. It is forever burned into your memory. And for that, you are eternally grateful.

You look at her gorgeous face, then her pecs, shoulders, biceps, six-pack abdomen, and her tree trunk thighs. She definitely goes to the gym regularly! But the one thing that you cannot help but notice is the enormous strap-on attached to her pelvis. Your eyes focus on a huge ten inch long black dildo hanging between her legs. It is the most intimidating thing you’ve ever witnessed. It looks hard, violent, and unforgiving. It is a tool of punishment. It is her way of asserting her deserving and rightful dominance.

However, no matter how scared you get, there’s a small part of you that desires that dildo to penetrate you. You want it shoved deep inside your body, invading your most intimate parts. You want her to be the one to do it. And from the way she positions herself over you, it appears as though that’s precisely what’s about to happen. Again, you are powerless to object. You cannot escape from your fate. She is going to do it. Hard. Over and over again. Until she decides to stop, not when you decide it should stop. She may want to penetrate you for hours. Or maybe for only a few minutes. Or seconds. Regardless, it’s her choice…not yours.

You fully expect the penetration to hurt immensely. It will be the most painful and humiliating experience of your life. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You want this to happen, even though you’re terrified out of your wits. You’re sweating. Your heart is racing a million miles per second. If the dildo doesn’t kill you, cardiac arrest might instead. But if that were to happen, it would be tragic but at least you will die happy.

The moment of truth is approaching. She parts your thighs, preparing to enter you. She licks her lips. She grabs onto the black dildo and strokes it up and down as suggestively as possible. She then takes out a bottle of lubricant and dabs a small amount onto her fingers. She reaches down and smears it on you. It feels cold, but comforting. The anticipation has reached a fever pitch. It’ll only be a few moments until she finally enters you. She smiles. You grimace, but you also remain calm. You’ve accepted your fate. You choose to accept what’s coming to you.

At last, she positions her dildo right at your entrance, and she squeezes it in…

Alright, wake up sweetheart! It’s time for school.

Huh? What just happened?

If the following anecdote arouses you in any way, I suppose that means I’ve done my job, which is to act as a (de facto) scribe of your dirtiest inner thoughts. Your fantasy world may not be this vivid or kinky, but I’m sure you’ve had your moments. I can guarantee it. Whether you’re truly into kink or if you’re more vanilla, you’ve probably at some point during your female muscle fandom watched a video or two that features a strong powerful woman wearing a strap-on dildo.

Melissa Dettwiller cannot help but submit to Lynn McCrossin (may she rest in peace).

Maybe she’s penetrating a guy. Or a woman. Or a fellow female bodybuilder. Or maybe she’s just by herself and she’s teasing you with it. No matter the circumstances, this fantasy scenario is not uncommon within the female muscle fan community (believe it or not, such a community actually exists!). Watching a hypermuscular woman wear a gigantic strap-on dildo – the color specifications can differ depending on who you are – can be quite arousing, even if BDSM isn’t necessarily your “thing.”

Why is that? Why do we enjoy watching Angela Salvagno or Yvette Bova wear a strap-on around their waists while they prepare to unleash pain and humiliation upon a hapless victim? How many of us wish we were that victim? Or at the very least, how many of us wish we could witness in-person this act of tyranny up close?

The Strap-On Fantasy is a fascinating one to ponder about. It covers a wide range of ideas that exemplify why female muscle fandom is so perplexing. Whether we secretly wish for an FBB wearing a strap-on to enter us where the sun doesn’t shine or whether we get turned on watching it happen to somebody else, let’s dig deep into this phenomena further (no pun intended).

The first major observation is that many female muscle lovers enjoy watching a muscular woman assert her sexual dominance. Many of us don’t fantasize about making love to an FBB as if she were our equal (although I do!). Rather, many of us desire that she take control, declare her sexual sovereignty, and do whatever she wants with us. However, such a fantasy isn’t just reduced to a powerful woman “being on top” in the bedroom. It takes it one step further.

Any woman – muscular or not – can assert her dominance in the bedroom. Either she decides what transpires or she determines the pace of play. Whichever it is, neither option is particular unusual or noteworthy. But when you add the element of a strap-on into the mix, things get a bit dicey. A muscular woman with a strap-on attached to her isn’t trying to become more “masculine” or “man-like.” It certainly appears that way, but underneath the surface we come to realize that a strap-on isn’t just a fake penis. It’s an external (and material) symbol of sexual dominance.

As a society, we view the penis – for better or for worse – as a symbol of sexual sovereignty. It’s an external organ that, when stimulated, provides pleasure for the person who has it. Women have organs that provide her sexual pleasure as well (her vagina and clitoris, primarily), but neither organ is pronounced enough for our psyches to relegate them as “vehicles of pleasure.” The vagina is internal and the clitoris is very small. For this reason, when we were little kids we thought that “boys have a penis” and “girls don’t have a penis,” as opposed to “girls have a vagina.” Girls do have a vagina, but it’s less obvious. Women can have orgasms without a partner, but far too many across the world aren’t explicitly aware of this ability. You can’t learn anything unless you’re taught, right?

Given this backdrop, a muscular woman wearing a strap-on is an exaggerated and crude way for her to showcase her sexual abilities. It’s her way of communicating to the world that she possesses (even in an artificial sense) a sexual organ that exists for the purpose of giving her sexual pleasure. Obviously, a strap-on is just a toy and doesn’t actually provide her pleasure (unless it’s a double sided strap-on), but that’s beside the point. It’s all about symbolism. If we associate a large sexual organ with sexual dominance, a strap-on hammers this point home unlike anything else.

Along the same wavelength, our culture tends to associate sexual dominance with the ability to penetrate. If you can penetrate your partner, that makes you powerful. It makes your partner subordinate to you. It makes him or her passive. It makes you the active participant who’s initiating the coital act. You are not surrendering your body’s autonomy by allowing someone else to enter it. You are the invader, not the invaded. If all of this sounds violent, it certainly does. On a more serious note, that’s often why we consider rape the highest of all crimes, perhaps worse than murder. Or at the very least, it’s the crime that’s just below murder as the worst possible crime you can commit against another human being. There’s something unholy about entering another person’s body without permission or with ill intent. It’s unseemly, discomforting, and appalling to comprehend. These sentiments stem from our cultural associations of “the ability to penetrate” with “strength” and “being penetrated” with “weakness.”

There’s nothing weak about Angela Salvagno.

Fair or unfair, that’s how we tend to view these matters. I am not here to argue whether or not I like this; rather I’m just pointing out the way things are. So the bottom line is this: Sexual dominance can take many forms, but the ability to penetrate your partner with a pronounced sexual organ is chief among them. Because women do not (normally) possess such an organ, a strap-on is the next best thing; a symbolic way for them to exhibit their power, independence, and authority.

The second major observation is that we enjoy watching female bodybuilders hug that fine line between “feminine” and “masculine.”

Of course, we love muscular women because they’re women with big beautiful muscles. Not because we think they look like men. And not because they exhibit qualities that we traditionally associate with masculinity. Female bodybuilders are feminine. They’re just a different kind of feminine. Or, they’re an “enhanced” version of feminine that embraces muscular curves in addition to her conventional curves.

But on second thought, perhaps there’s a shred of truth to the stereotype that guys who love muscular women are, whether they realize it or not, also embracing the FBB’s “masculine-lite” qualities. Or maybe, and this sounds much more plausible, guys like us are really turned on by strong ladies who walk that fine line between what we are and are not supposed to be attracted to.

We love watching a beautiful feminine FBB sport a large strap-on dildo not because it appears she has a penis – and thus appears to be a “man” of sorts – but because she doesn’t really, but she acts like she does. As men, we may or may not be proud of our phalluses. We may like the power it gives us, or at least the perceived power it gives us. And we love seeing our favorite FBBs share in that power, even if it’s superficial and temporary. Deep down inside our dirty imaginations, we secretly want our FBBs to be strong, powerful, and well-endowed. We want them to act like men while still being women. In our minds, acting masculine doesn’t make you masculine. You can exhibit masculine qualities while still being unquestionably feminine in nature.

As I’ve written before many times, female muscle fans love large clits because it’s their way of demonstrating their sexual power. It’s a (albeit, smaller in size) phallic-like external organ that gives sensual pleasure when stimulated by one’s self or by a partner. It provides orgasm. It becomes engorged when aroused. It grows in size when aroused. And if it’s large enough, it can be sucked on or jerked off to the point of climax. Sound familiar?

Due to extra testosterone in the body caused by both muscle growth and taking synthetic steroids, women bodybuilders often see their clitorises grow significantly in size. There’s a perfectly rational scientific explanation for this phenomenon. So the “female phallus” theme is more evident when we’re dealing with ladies such as Denise Masino (a goddess among men), Angela Salvagno, and Brandi Mae Akers. These women possess abnormally large clits that are gorgeous, sexually alluring, and allow them to demonstrate their power in the bedroom.

We all know that Denise, Angela, and Brandi Mae do not have penises. They have clitorises and vaginas just like every other woman. But without a doubt, the shape of the meat between their legs is noteworthy and sets them apart from the rest of the female species. Their status as women is undeniable. Nobody – at least, nobody with a fully functioning brain – seriously believes these ladies are anything but ladies. Internet trolls aside, it is because they’re strong, beautiful, confident, sexy, and feminine that we love them so damn much. They’ve captured our hearts because they break the mold of what society traditionally expects women to look like while still retaining much of that mold. They don’t defy these notions so much as they redefine them. And that is an impressive feat.

Yet, we are still intrigued by tiny voices inside our heads that tell us there’s more to these ladies than meets the eye. Is it that these ladies expand the definition of “feminine,” as I’ve argued above? Or, do they shatter these definitions completely and flesh out the argument that there’s actually no such thing as “masculine” and “feminine?” Are these labels real or perceived? Are they based on objective biological scientific fact or are they shallow and archaic holdovers from a less enlightened time? Maybe straight men aren’t actually attracted to women…they’re attracted to femininity, regardless of who (or what) exhibits these characteristics.

This brings to mind all sorts of questions regarding sexual orientation, the nature of gender, and whether or not our understanding of biology is totally accurate. But suffice to say is that we know what we like and do not like. Sometimes, someone will come along and challenge our previously held conceptions of our personal preferences. This can be a good thing, but it can also be a confusing thing. The world is a complicated place, indeed.

Meet Mistress Kiana, a London-based erotic service provider.

There is something intriguing about people who are androgynous. We may or may not be attracted to them regardless of who they are – or claim that they are. Female bodybuilders are not always cleanly in the “feminine” category, mostly because the definition of “feminine” changes depending on who is doing the defining. FBBs can walk that fine line between the labels we choose to place on each other and ourselves. Perhaps this ambiguity is what enthralls us the most.

The Strap-On Fantasy forces us to reconsider why we associate a penis with masculinity. After all, we know not to associate big muscles with masculinity. We can think of hundreds of examples of big muscles being very feminine. Muscles are universal, not monopolized only by men. So by that logic, why should we associate a large phallus hanging between one’s legs as being solely masculine as well? What if, instead of the strap-on being designed to look like a penis, it were designed to look like a comically oversized clit? I have no clue if such a contraption actually exists, but the idea should bring a smile to your face.

So, we love seeing a strong woman with a fake penis, but only because it enhances her femininity, not because her appearance traverses into the territory of masculinity. Got that? Don’t worry if you find this confusing. I do too!

The third major observation is how intertwined the concepts of strength, power, and sexuality are. I’ve touched on a lot of these ideas already, so here’s what I’ll say about this. It seems nearly impossible to separate a female bodybuilder from her sex appeal. She isn’t a robot. She isn’t a machine. She’s a flesh-and-blood human being who strives to sculpt the “perfect body” as she sees it. And such an endeavor will inevitably augment her sex appeal. Whether this is intentional or unintentional, as casual onlookers we cannot train our eyes to see things differently. We cannot help but look at a female bodybuilder as a sexual object.

Perhaps we also see her as an athlete, trainer, entrepreneur, model, wife, mother, sister, community leader, celebrity, and most of all, a human being. But how can you not also look at her beauty and find your mind drifting off into all sorts of erotic places?

Don’t make Mistress Treasure (Victoria Dominguez) angry!

Connected to a female bodybuilder’s body is her strength and power. I define “strength” as her pure physical strength and “power” as the dominion she has over her surroundings, including the people around her. We are drawn to FBBs not just because of what they look like, but also because of how they act and what they can do. It arouses us to see them lifting heavy weights at the gym. It turns us on to watch them grapple a helpless male opponent to the ground while he begs for mercy – and doesn’t receive it. We may not fantasize about being the hapless chap whose face turns red while his torso is contorted in all sorts of unpleasant directions, but we sure enjoy witnessing it. Or at least, many of us do. I’m not super into that sort of thing, but whatever.

It’s not enough for us to see our favorite FBBs be strong. We need them to act strong. And not just do stunts like bend steel or crush an apple with her bare hands. That’s all fine and dandy, but what really gets our blood boiling is seeing an FBB exhibit her strength through her sexuality.

These concepts cannot be separated, no matter how much we try to. Strength, power, and sexuality are almost synonymous at this point. They aren’t of course, but that doesn’t stop us from thinking about these ideas within the same framework.

The final major observation is this: No strap-on dildo can possibly compete with a real penis. Regardless of the size of your penis – whether you think it’s small, medium-sized, or large – no dildo in the world can act as a substitute for the real thing. Women often say that as much as they love masturbating with a dildo, nothing beats the feeling and knowledge of a man’s actual flesh entering her. Synthetic materials can provide the same orgasmic effect, but it’s not psychologically the same.

A female bodybuilder wearing a strap-on is just that – a female bodybuilder wearing a strap-on. She isn’t an “honorary” man. She isn’t actually well-endowed. Her endowment is fake. She’s still a woman and a man is still a man. Even a man being anally penetrated by a woman wearing a strap-on is still a man. The power she derives from having a phallus is superficial and disappears the moment she takes it off. A man, on the other hand, never relinquishes that power.

Perhaps this is why erectile dysfunction is considered such a bruise to one’s ego. The inability to produce an erection consistently (or at all) is essentially a form of emasculation. His penis isn’t literally cut off, but it might as well be. It’s limp. It’s useless. It cannot bring a woman to orgasm. In a way, the failure to bring a woman to a satisfying climax is the height of emasculation.

Never mind he can’t bring pleasure to himself. That’s almost beside the point. He cannot successfully penetrate his female partner – which in turns makes him less of a man. “Male enhancement” medication sells like hotcakes for a reason.

However, despite all that, even a small and limp penis is still much more potent – mostly in a symbolic sense – than every single dildo sitting on the shelves of every single sex shop in the world. As an elongated piece of meat that protrudes outside of the body, a phallus is the ultimate symbol for maleness. Women, even muscular women, have no such external symbol. No strap-on ever created in a factory can compete in the long-term with the real thing. An FBB wearing a strap-on has power in the bedroom only temporarily. As I mentioned earlier, the moment she takes it off she instantly returns back to her normal state. She is “emasculated” as well – figuratively speaking, that is.

Porn star Ava Devine teaching a lesson to naughty Brandi Mae Akers.

It provides a small amount of giddiness knowing that men still hold the ultimate bargaining chip: a perfectly functional and real penis. No FBB can possibly match that. Regardless of how big her muscles get and how large her dildo is, she’s not even close to being a man. She can never actually be one of us.

But alas, is that necessarily a bad thing? Sexual power can come from anyone, no matter what is hanging (or not hanging) between their legs. So does it really matter whether a man has a penis and an FBB has a strap-on – or no strap-on at all?

Let’s think of it this way: the next time you see Angela Salvagno or Brandi Mae Akers wearing a large dildo around their waists, ask yourself this question:

Does the strap-on complete her dominating presence, or does it merely complement it?

In other words, does she even need the strap-on in the first place, or is it just a fun toy for her to play with for the time being? In the back of your mind, do you secretly wish that she actually has a phallus hanging between her legs? It could be a penis that co-exists with her vagina or it could be a clitoris that’s grown far larger than normal. Either way, is that a must? Do you clamor for her to have such an endowment? Or are you perfectly content with her having a slit between her legs and allow her muscularity to speak for itself?

Muscles give women power. The penis gives men power. When a woman can have both, it’s understandable why we’d have such vivid daydreams that prevent us from getting to school on time.

Female Muscle on Demand

I demand to touch the arms of Tonia Moore. May I?

I demand to touch the arms of Tonia Moore. May I?

It ain’t easy being a female muscle fan. But do we have it harder than fans of more “mainstream” interests? Maybe, maybe not.

Yes, sports fans have the offseason they need to endure for a few months every year before their favorite team plays meaningful games again.

Like tropical fruit? You can’t necessarily get great tasting pineapple or grapefruit year-round. Enjoy a perfectly cooked (i.e., rare) New York Strip steak? You can’t buy it too often or else the contents in your bank account will get too low. There’s nothing wrong with eating a scoop of ice cream before going to bed, but if you do it too often you might need to invest in new pants and belts. Not a good trade-off, if you ask me.

Being a fan of anything in life obviously has its drawbacks. The biggest one being you can’t always be satiated 24-hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. All good things must come in moderation. In fact, the best things in life should be enjoyed sparingly in order for the novelty to not wear off.

Yet, being a female muscle fan puts one in a whole other boat. What we love is especially rare (and I’m not talking about how you like your steak cooked). Muscular women comprise a remarkably small percentage of the world’s population. The number of muscular women who offer wrestling/worship sessions is even smaller. And the number of muscular women who offer sessions and are willing to travel to major cities across the world is smaller than that.

And, the people who are female muscle fans, live within close proximity of major metropolitan cities, and have disposable cash to pay for sessions are…you guessed it. Limited. Do you live in the countryside? Too bad. Do you live paycheck-to-paycheck and can’t afford $250 to $400 for an hour-long muscle worship appointment? Oh well.

Get the picture? It’s an issue of basic arithmetic. Wine aficionados can find reasonable quality vin at most grocery stores. Fans of classic movies can subscribe to channels that play Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford films seemingly on continuous loop. Even folks who are into kinkier stuff like BDSM can meet up with like-minded participants if they know how to do a basic Internet search.

But female muscle fans cannot experience their interests quite like the previously mentioned cohorts. Not by a long shot. Our tastes are more difficult to experience thanks to the simple principle of supply and demand. We have demands, but the supply is tragically short. Not inexistent, of course, but not readily available on the shelves like the newest iPhone or boxes of Wheaties.

I'd order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode.

I’d order the sex appeal of Isabelle Turell so fast the app might explode.

At times like this, it makes one fantasize about having an app on your phone that delivers “female muscle on demand” much like how you can order a pizza, hail an Uber driver, or watch reruns of Game of Thrones on your big screen television. How would this hypothetical app work? Well, let’s put on our thinking caps for a moment and find out.

Let’s say you’re alone by yourself at home. Your significant other is away or your roommate is out painting the town red (whatever that means). You’re bored watching YouTube videos of animals doing tricks. You’ve run out of beer. It’s raining outside, so taking a leisurely walk is out of the question. The gym is about to close and the nearest bar just recently jacked up their prices on liquor. What are you to do with yourself?

You’re feeling “randy” but have no partner to help you relieve your pent-up tension. You can watch porn but that’s dull and mundane. Besides, most of it is complete garbage anyway. You’re secretly a fan of female bodybuilders, though. You love the feel of their rock hard muscles. You love playfully wrestling them and submitting to their superior strength. You want to touch their bodies and allow them to touch yours. You’re in a sensual mood and the only prescription is a big strong beautiful woman who’s ready to rock and roll. What do you do now?

Easy! You open the “Female Muscle on Demand” app on your smartphone and simply let its magic sweep you off your feet.

So, how would this app work? There are several possibilities:

One is for you to magically summon any female bodybuilder in the world to appear in the flesh (we’re going to ignore fundamental scientific laws here, in case you haven’t noticed) right before your eyes for only an hour or two. Do you want to hang out with Amber DeLuca? Simple! Just swipe the app (or tap the app, or however the darn thing works) and voila! Miss DeLuca will materialize out of thin air and you’ll be feeling her gorgeous pecs in no time.

Sucking on Angela Salvagno's gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me.

Sucking on Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous clit would be a deal breaker for me.

Could you ask for multiple real-life female bodybuilders to join your company? I suppose, but that’s still in the beta testing stage. Or maybe you can do that. Perhaps there’s a limit of ten FBBs per usage. Or fifteen. Or twenty. Or more than that. Who knows? Just make sure you have enough room in your cramped apartment to accommodate all these beautiful ladies.

So maybe you can ask Amber, Denise Masino, Lindsay Mulinazzi, Isabelle Turell, Brandi Mae Akers, and Lisa Cross to collectively join you for one hell of a sexy evening. Wow, that would be something else! I would download that app faster than a kid opening his presents on Christmas morning.

What would you do with these ladies in your living space? Well, I’m pretty sure you can adequately fill in the blank yourself. You can invite Deidre Pagnanelli over and treat her to a romantic candle-lit dinner of steak and lobster paired with a delectable bottle of fine wine. Or you can conjure up Victoria Dominguez and ask her to be your “mistress” for the evening who will act out every single naughty fantasy in your dirty little mind. Or you can summon Angela Salvagno and spend a few hours doing nothing but sucking on her big juicy clit. Or you could have all three over and engage in a full-out female muscle orgy where nothing is off the table. After all, it’s your app.

Oh boy. Yup, the scenarios you can come up with are sure endless!

Another possibility is for you to create a muscular woman from scratch. This option could be better than the first one – although that one is pretty damn incredible – because it really allows you to fulfill your fantasies to the max. You can choose from a long list of physical and personal characteristics and manufacture your own personal FBB who will be unique to your tastes.

Imagine that it’s like one of those mix and match monster flip books you used to peruse through when you were a little kid. You can assemble a beast with a centipede-like lower body with an orangutan midsection and the head of a serpent-goat. Or, the head of a tyrannosaurus rex with the midsection of a great white whale and the legs of a praying mantis. Whatever floats your boat. Remember being fascinated with those books growing up?

Wind the clock to the present day and imagine being able to do that with human flesh and bone. You can, with the tap of a few buttons, construct your very own female bodybuilder playmate to spend the evening with whenever you feel like it. Just open the app, find a spot with good Wi-Fi reception, and generate a woman with:

  • Biceps like Isabelle Turell
  • A chest like Theresa Ivancik
  • Abs like Cindy Landolt
  • A back like Jay Fuchs
  • Shoulders like Rene Campbell
  • A torso like Amber DeLuca
  • Glutes like Alina Popa
  • Legs like Tina Lockwood (back when she was in her peak condition, of course!)
  • Calves like Brenda Smith
  • A clit like Denise Masino
  • Labia like Angela Salvagno
  • A face like Deidre Pagnanelli
  • Sexy red hair like Lindsay Mulinazzi
  • Height like Maria Wattel (6 foot 2 inches)
  • A sultry deep voice like Kathy Connors
  • Intelligence and personality like Julie Germaine
  • “Bad girl” attitude like Brandi Mae Akers

Ooh. What a playmate she would be! Of course, the combinations are endless and everyone’s personal preferences will differ. And it may be more practical for the “Female Muscle on Demand” app to have a desktop version as well if we’re going to get this specific. Perhaps every user can have their favorite features “saved” so that the Female Muscle Aggregator (we’ll call this a sub-feature within the app itself) remembers what you like.

Just so we’re not being sexist, and in the spirit of accommodating as many genders and preferences as possible, there could also be a “Male Muscle on Demand” counterpart that ladies (and men who like men) can also utilize. Or maybe this is all consolidated in one app known as “Muscles on Demand.” Whatever works, I suppose.

Another option that users have is to customize which race/ethnicity you happen to prefer. Like Caucasian muscle? Ebony muscle? Asian muscle? Latina muscle? Middle Eastern muscle? Or a combination of a few of these? Well, I wouldn’t be against our hypothetical users having this option when navigating through our miraculous digital sexual fetish service.

Jay Fuch's sexy back? Yes, please!

Jay Fuch’s sexy back? Yes, please!

Well, well, well. This would certainly make being a female muscle fan much more fun. Come to think of it, this would go over well with people of every fetishistic color and stripe. Your “Muscles on Demand” creation could wear sexy frilly underwear, a kinky BDSM outfit (with the expected ensemble of handcuffs, whips, and chains), a revealing beach bikini, a Catholic school girl’s outfit (I won’t judge if that’s your cup of tea), a classy white slip, or a sensual black negligee. Maybe this is where users can actually suggest and design outfits that fulfill their deepest and darkest erotic fantasies. User-generated content is the wave of the future, is it not?

It sure is. So is the ability to customize whatever you damn please right up to the most minute detail. If you want your Muscle Fantasy to have big brawny arms, you can customize her biceps to be 18 inches in circumference…or 14 inches if you don’t want her to be that muscular. Or 20 inches if you don’t care about realism. Yikes. That could potentially get out of hand real quick. Once you go down this road, you could technically create a Dream Muscle Woman who defies scientific limitations and really gets your juices flowing (interpret that as you will).

But, what would the experience actually be like once your Muscle Fantasy is right before your eyes? Well, obviously it would be awesome for this person to look, feel, and sound like a real person.

Unlike virtual reality, the experience of meeting your Muscle on Demand playmate will be just like actual reality, not similar to existing inside a vast three-dimensional video game. So basically, it’s like a genuine muscle worship/wrestling session except you don’t need to travel, shell out $350 or wait around for a premiere FBB to come to your area.

Thus, one moment I could be sitting on my couch watching a soccer game I don’t care about and the next I could be feeling up Angela Salvagno’s gorgeous naked body. My head is jammed between her strong legs, sucking on her beautiful big clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. After she’s had enough climaxes, she returns the favor by flexing her enormous muscles until I am able to touch every single inch of her. Then, we make sweet love until we come together one final time. I empty myself into her, we kiss, we chat for a few moments, and she disappears until I choose to summon her again.

All this time, the real Angela Salvagno is peacefully enjoying her own life wherever she happens to be, totally unaware of what I just experienced with her avatar. So what happens between me and her digital self is nobody’s business except for…mine. She’s completely oblivious of my evening spent with “her,” as is the rest of the world. Because the version of Angela Salvagno I just made love to doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a realistic avatar conjured from my trusty app.

Ah, yes. How I wish this could come to pass! Alas, such a thing is not physically possible. Perhaps this is a product of my longing for something that’s not easily attainable. Or maybe a sign of the times; that we live in an age where what we want must be available to us immediately or else. I consider myself a patient person, but female muscle is so irresistible how can it not drive you crazy knowing you have to wait five to six months and spend a whole week’s worth of wages to be able to get your fix? I’m not a “female muscle junkie” by any stretch of the imagination, but what you desire is what you desire for a reason.

Why must beautiful women like Julie Germaine be so scarce?

Why must beautiful women like Julie Germaine be so scarce?

Muscular women are sure scarce. However, as short in supply as they may be, they are available if you have the time, resources, and proximity necessary to meet them one-on-one. Then again, maybe this is part of their charm. Maybe the agonizing wait times and the steep price of admission are partly to explain why I find FBBs so alluring. I often wonder what it would be like if more “everyday women” were as muscular as competitive bodybuilders (or in this particular case, what it would be like for female muscle to be accessible to me on demand). Can you imagine how splendid it would be if you took the bus to work and 30-40 percent of the women riding with you had arms as big as Yaxeni Oriquen-Garcia? Whoa! Talk about living in a surreal parallel universe.

But, I am not so naïve to believe that my love for muscular women would not change one iota. Maybe the scarcity of big buff women is one of the chief reasons why I love them so darn much. If they were as common as 30-something hipster women in Seattle wearing Uggs and gray wool hats, I probably wouldn’t care as much if I saw one up close. Hm. Is that really true?

Maybe it is true. Or not. Either way, there are benefits to certain things in life being readily available “on demand” or “pretty damn close to on demand.” Clean water would be one example. Electricity would be another. On the other hand, as difficult as this may be to comprehend, certain things in life are better when they’re experienced infrequently.

The eager anticipation, butterflies in the stomach, ache of seeing your bank account slightly diminish, fluttering heartrate, joyous times of the experience itself, and the warm fuzzy memories you have of your time together are all part of the packaged deal. If these things happen too often I can see how they could lose their magic touch.

So for now, Female Muscle on Demand only exists in the wild recesses of my imagination. I can wager a guess that it also exists in the minds of many of my dear readers – or at least it does now. There may come a time when virtual reality becomes so technologically advanced that it can seamlessly mimic real life, but we are not quite there yet. I have no doubts that we may one day reach that pinnacle, but that day is not today. Many hurdles must be jumped over first before we can even begin to have that conversation. But that shouldn’t stop us from pondering those delicious “what if” questions.

What if <insert fantasy of your choice> were possible? Oh my goodness, the possibilities are endless, aren’t they?

This is What It’s Like to Touch the Body of a Muscular Woman

Who wouldn't want to touch the magnificent body of Julie Germaine (a.k.a. Julie Bonnett)?

Who wouldn’t want to touch the magnificent body of Julie Germaine (a.k.a. Julie Bonnett)?

I realize not everyone who reads my blog will ever have the opportunity – for a variety of reasons – to touch the body of a muscular woman. It’s an incredible experience and one that I will never tire of participating in whenever I get the chance. However, I am fortunate to have the financial resources available to me to pay for muscle worship sessions (albeit only a small handful per year), as well as the fact I live close to a major metropolitan city (Seattle) where female bodybuilders consistently travel to.

But not all of you are like me. Many of you live far away from major cities where FBBs and wrestlers tend to visit. Others of you are married or have spouses/significant others who wouldn’t appreciate it very much if you spent time and money touching the bodies of unknown muscular women. And of course, some of you don’t have the disposable income necessary to set up such appointments. Or maybe you’re curious to try this out but your religious convictions prevent you from acting upon your hidden desires. I totally understand all of these circumstances. I’m not here to judge or tell you that you should “go for it” regardless of what’s happening in your life.

That being said, for those of you who have never, or will never, know what it’s like to touch the body of a female bodybuilder, I have some good news for you. Read on and try your hardest to imagine what it would be like to think and feel these things as it happens.

I’ve received plenty of requests from readers to write more about my experiences participating in muscle worship sessions. Perhaps people want to live vicariously through me by reading my exploits on my humble blog. Great! I’m always willing to give my loyal readers what they want.

Let’s begin.

The first step toward discussing this topic is to talk about why the physical bodies of muscular women are so intriguing in the first place.

Without question, muscular women are rare in our world. That’s unfortunate for female muscle fans like us, but that’s the way it is. So because they’re few and far between, we are not able to experience the beauty of muscular women as frequently as we’d like. This is why the small handful of female bodybuilders, athletes, wrestlers, and erotic providers who offer sessions can charge hundreds of dollars for their services (some women can charge up to $1,500 for a full evening’s worth of her time). Where else will fans like us get to meet them and experience their bodies? Not too many places, that’s for sure.

Unless you happen to have a muscular girlfriend or wife you can go home to every day. But the vast majority of us do not. Once again, that’s the way it is. Oh well.

So if you get to arrange a muscle worship session with an FBB, you already know in the back of your mind that this is a rare opportunity to experience something extraordinary. These chances do not come up very often. There aren’t hundreds of thousands of muscular women offering their services as if they were Uber drivers. There are far less than that. So you must treasure this experience (whether it lasts one hour, two hours, or longer than that) and make sure you get your money’s worth when the time arrives for it to happen.

Ironically, the fact that a one-hour muscle worship session is so special and uncommon might end up undermining your enjoyment of the experience. You could be so hyped up emotionally and physically that you might struggle to focus on the moment. How can you relax when you’re spending $60 or so per minute? This is why you might not actually “enjoy” your first session all that much. You’re too distracted by the voices in your head, your accelerated heartrate, your emotions revved up into overdrive, and your insistence that you must enjoy the evening or else all is for naught.

Love that dress on Andrulla Blanchette!

Love that dress on Andrulla Blanchette!

The intriguing nature of muscular women could warp your memories of the experience of touching her body. For me, I felt like my first experience was all a blur. That hour felt like 20 minutes. I struggled to “quiet my mind” and focus only on the present. How could I possibly think straight when I was blessed to be in the presence of a gorgeous naked muscular woman for the first time in my life?

This is why subsequent muscle worship sessions were, for the most part, better experiences. I could afford to relax and not worry about anything else. I could enjoy the moment without apology or outside noise interfering with my concentration. Perhaps this is true for all of life’s experiences. Repetition puts you at ease. Inexperience gives you anxiety.

The second thing that needs to be discussed is our expectations for the experience. What do you think a muscular woman’s body will feel like? How will it differ from a normal woman’s body? Will I be disgusted by it? Or will it be the most incredible experience of my life? Will I be disappointed? Or totally caught off guard and pleasantly surprised?

Many of us have touched the body of a woman before. She’s usually soft, pleasant, and smooth. But that’s not always the case. Age, body type, ethnicity, and other factors (such as whether she’s addicted to tanning beds or smoking cigarettes) obviously affect how she looks and feels. But when we’re talking about female bodybuilders, we’re practically talking about a whole other kind of animal.

How will muscles affect the feel of her skin? Are younger bodybuilders different than older bodybuilders? Will her big muscles make her appear more like a man? Or will she still be undisputedly feminine? If you’re asking yourself these questions prior to your appointment, you’re not alone. They reflect the basic fact that you don’t entirely know what to expect, despite your best guesses. You will always have questions, which will affect your expectations of the experience. If you enter with an open mind and very few preconceived notions, you’re less likely to be shocked, sorely disappointed, or taken by surprise in any way. If, however, you come in with expectations set in stone, you’re more likely to encounter cognitive dissonance if you discover that reality doesn’t fit your beliefs.

May I touch the biceps of Heather Armbrust?

May I touch the biceps of Heather Armbrust?

Alright, so circumstances and preconceived beliefs can definitely have an effect on your experience touching a muscular woman’s body. It’s fantastic we’ve established this. Cool beans. But what is the actual experience like?

The moment you walk into that hotel room, the nervous energy you feel will be palpable. Butterflies will be flying around your stomach. Your focus will be on edge. Your vision may be distorted. Things that normally distract you like car horns honking or the bedlam of construction workers tearing up a sidewalk will not bother you in the slightest. Odds are you won’t even notice it. You’ll try your hardest to be productive at work but probably won’t be. Just don’t tell your boss you’re about to engage in a muscle worship session with a world-class female bodybuilder later that evening after you clock out!

The first time you actually touch her body will probably be when you shake her hand or give her a hug as you first greet her. You might ask yourself whether her grip is exceptionally tight or if your arms will fail to wrap around her thick torso as you attempt to embrace her. But the experience hasn’t started quite just yet.

Your eyes will adjust to the new setting. If this is your first time being in the presence of a muscular woman, you might not believe what your eyes are seeing. But eventually, you’ll accept what’s going on around you and proceed to enjoy the encounter. You desperately want to know if reality will meet your expectations. Luckily for you, you’re about to find out.

After initial introductions, establishment of rules (assuming this is a necessary step), and exchange of payment (assuming this happens before the appointment commences), the festivities may begin! You regard her as she strikes a jaw-dropping pose. Perhaps it’s a front double biceps pose. Or front lat spread pose. Or something else entirely. Maybe she just stands there with authority, waiting for your meek self to approach her. Whatever the case may be, you go in to meet your destiny.

Let’s assume her bicep is the first part of her body that you touch. That’s a logical and perhaps common choice to make. She extends her right arm (or left arm, if she’s left handed) and flexes her bicep for you. You marvel at its size, thickness, and ability to “jump” up and down at will. You extend your fingers toward it. She continues to squeeze as she watches you prepare to touch her for the first time. She may or may not know this is your first ever experience touching a muscular woman’s body. If your initial conversations have revealed as much, she might be thinking about how she can maximize the quality of “the moment.”

Should she remain quiet and allow silence to permeate the room so that you can properly concentrate? Or should she be more conversational and try to put you at ease by being sociable?

Regardless of what happens, your fingers finally make contact with her skin. After all these years – and decades perhaps – of speculation, your fantasies will no longer be fantasies. They are now reality. You will finally know what it’s like to touch the beautiful muscles of a beautiful strong woman.

What is it actually like, you may ask? Let me explain.

Her skin will be remarkably hard. Not gruff or rigid, but not as soft as you’re accustomed to feeling. Most women – and men, for that matter – possess softer bodies that are light, smooth, and silky. You might be taken aback by how her muscles don’t feel like flesh but instead feel like bone, as if she has an exoskeleton. But her skin is in fact skin, not bone. You understand theoretically that directly underneath her skin is flesh, but it’s still difficult to wrap your mind around this considering what you’re privileged to be currently touching.

Like a tortoise, cockroach, grasshopper, or lobster, her muscular body feels like a protective shell. Like body armor worn by a warrior, her body is her armor. It protects her. It shields her from harm. It can produce harm if provoked. Her physical shell is only matched by the emotional and intellectual shell that exist inside her mind. After all, it takes someone with an incredible amount of willpower, drive, and confidence to be able to develop muscles that large.

After the initial shock has worn off, you proceed to feel up the rest of her body. If she’s nude or topless, you might focus on the more intimate parts of her body such as her nipples, clitoris, or vagina. But mostly, you want to feel her muscles. Her chest, her arms, her back, her abs, her legs, her butt, her everything. You don’t want to leave any stone unturned, as the old saying goes.

The lovely Lorena Cozza.

The lovely Lorena Cozza.

The most significant observation you’ll come away with is how different she is from everybody else. You’ve never encountered a woman like her before, and likely won’t ever outside of the context of participating in a muscle worship or wrestling session. As I’ve said countless times before, muscular women are rare. So the few instances in which you are able to feel her hard work will definitely stand out in your memory for years to come.

Her extraordinary hardness and tenacity seemingly make her invincible. You may wrestle her and perhaps “beat” her at a match. But even that may come as a surprise to you. If wrestling isn’t your cup of tea, you might have a challenging time imagining anyone defeating her in a one-on-one confrontation. Her unique physical construction will do all sorts of things to your imagination. You fantasize what it would be like to make love to her, snuggle with her, live with her, be punished by her, take commands from her, and so on. All of these thoughts are rooted in her “invincibility.”

Once the session is complete, you will gain a whole new respect for her and her fellow female bodybuilders. You will understand how truly unique FBBs are. What they have done to their bodies is not only difficult to accomplish, but can come at a price. You may not even look at “normal-looking” men and women the same way. How can anyone complain about being weak, overweight, or in poor physical condition when FBBs do more work in one week than most of us (male or female, it doesn’t matter) will do in an entire year?

Eventually, you’ll come back down to Earth and proceed with life as normal. But the memories you have of the tactile sensations of feeling her hard, chiseled physique will never go away. Your first experience may become a hazy in your mind, but what doesn’t go away is remembering how you felt at the time. People often forget conversations, dates, events, and other so-called “milestones” in life, but seldom do they forget strong visceral emotions that happen at specific moments.

Sexy white top being worn by Fern Lasseter.

Sexy white top being worn by Fern Lasseter.

Without question, your first time touching a muscular woman’s body – whether it happens during a muscle worship session or in “real life” – will be a remarkable experience. Your perceptions of the limitations of human biology will be challenged. You may discover new fetishes that you never knew you had. Or, you might be sorely disappointed and come away unimpressed. Or the experience may be so intense and mind-blowing that you might forget key moments, as if your brain could not fully process everything that was going on at the time.

There’s no “right” or “wrong” way to remember your first time touching her body. For all you know, her body odor or choice of clothing (assuming she’s wearing clothing at all!) could stick in your memory more than what it was like to place your fingers on her quads or triceps. The human mind can act in strange ways, indeed.

But most important, what will make a lasting impression is how you felt during the Moment of Truth and afterward when it was all over. Was it empowering? Titillating? Frightening? Deeply erotic? Confusing? Unexpectedly calming and soothing? Or a total dud? As mentioned previously, a lot of this depends on what your initial expectations were. We create our own realities more than we think – or would like to think.

What about those of you who have never touched a muscular woman’s body before? Or plan to but haven’t yet? Or will never for a myriad of reasons? For folks like you out there in the wider Universe, I will just say this:

Don’t hold back or be embarrassed by what you find to be erotic. Keep dreaming. Keep fantasizing. Keep thinking beautiful thoughts. Odds are, these speculations are all probably pretty damn accurate.

Expectations vs. Reality: Tempering Our Warped Perceptions about Female Bodybuilders

A very tiny red bikini being worn by Gina Aliotti.

A very tiny red bikini being worn by Gina Aliotti.

Sometimes, our expectations don’t meet reality.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; nor is it necessarily a good thing. It is what it is. At first, the idea of owning a puppy may sound awesome. But after you adopt one, reality starts to sink in. You have to train him not to poop on the carpet. You have to persuade him not to beg at the dinner table. You have to clean up after every single mess he makes. You need to schedule your entire life around feeding him, walking him, and making sure he is allowed to “relieve himself” as often as he needs to in a socially acceptable way.

In short, the honeymoon soon ends. The joyful expectation of owning a puppy dog – while you may still love being a pet owner – may or may not fully line up with the reality of actually owning a puppy.

The image in your head of your dog being your best buddy who also happens to be low-maintenance, intuitively housebroken, and allows you to live your life as usual with very little disruptions is, as you quickly discover, total BS. Raising a puppy dog is a lot harder than you think. I’m not anti-dog or anything (although I am more of a cat person), all I’m trying to do is illustrate the disconnection that often exists between how we think life is like and how life is really like.

The same goes for female bodybuilders. People who are fascinated with female bodybuilders, but have never actually met one, may be in for a surprise when they first get the chance to encounter one up-close-and-personal. There might be some disappointment…but there might also be some surprises, both positive and negative.

I’ve written before on the ethereal nature of female bodybuilders. We often refer to them as “goddesses” because we revere them as if they were divine beings from Heaven. In non-female bodybuilding parlance, a young lady we’re smitten with is often called an “angel.” If she isn’t in charge of what goes on in Heaven, she’s at least sent there from the Big Guy himself down to Earth to capture the hearts of young men. The point is when we put certain people on a pedestal, our perceptions of them become inflated, warped, and unrealistic.

This is known as “idealizing the other.” This especially happens when we have limited (or nonexistent) contact with this person. Whether we’re talking about our favorite pop singer, baseball player, middle school crush, or pro female bodybuilder, we tend to place idealistic expectations on who they are as people (or lovers, best friends, crushes, idols, etc.) that don’t necessarily fit reality.

May I meet Amy Peters for an intimate evening?

May I meet Amy Peters for an intimate evening?

So don’t get too heartbroken when your favorite ball player won’t give you his autograph. Don’t be too surprised when your favorite politician gets involved in a scandal. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that cute guy or girl you like can do no wrong and is perfect in every way. They are just as human as you are. We all have flaws. For the rich and famous, they have armies of publicists, assistants, public relations personnel, hair and make-up artists, wardrobe consultants, and the like to help present them in the best light possible.

Do you really think your favorite singer has hair that looks that good 24/7? I got news for you. They don’t!

Somewhat related to celebrity worship and idealizing the other is the heightened expectations we have about female bodybuilders. Due to the fact muscular women are rare in our world (unfortunately for us!), we tend to develop in our imaginations a perceived set of expectations for what FBBs are like that may or may not be accurate. Examples of questions we have about female bodybuilders include, but are not limited to:

  • How much can an FBB lift?
  • How tall are female bodybuilders?
  • Do all FBBs have big clits?
  • Do female bodybuilders want to dominate men sexually?
  • What do their genitals look like?

The answers to these questions – and countless others – obviously are not definitive and set in stone. Some FBBs are stronger than others. Many have big clits, but many also have perfectly normal sized clits. Some FBBs are sexually aggressive, others are more passive. Many are lesbians and have no interest in having sex with a man. Female genitalia, whether we’re talking about a muscular woman or a non-muscular woman, comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s just the way things are.

But instead of endlessly speculating on these matters, we end up creating conclusions regardless. I’m guilty of this as well. We take it for granted that FBBs are tall, sexually aggressive, super strong, and are endowed with large clitorises. At least, that’s our expectation. In the back of our minds we may know these assumptions aren’t always true. But we can’t help but think of these conclusions as being more or less the truth.

I love Mindi O'Brien!

I love Mindi O’Brien!

So let’s pretend like you actually end up meeting a female bodybuilder for a muscle worship or wrestling session. You see that someone you admire is travelling to your city and you e-mail her to set up an appointment. You pay your deposit, agree upon the terms of the meeting, and she informs you where she’ll be staying for the duration of her visit. Great! Now what?

You wait. You cross off the days on the calendar in anticipation of your fateful meeting with her. Your imagination goes wild. What will she be like? Will she be as big and strong as she is in my dreams? Will she immediately toss me on the bed and have her way with me without letting up? Will I be sore for the rest of the week as a result of our short hour together?

Then, the day comes. You can’t wait! You struggle to focus on anything but your appointment with her. Butterflies are bouncing wildly all around your stomach. Your heartbeat cannot calm down. You’re afraid you might suffer from cardiac arrest before your appointment even begins.

You sit in the parking lot of her hotel for 10 or so minutes. Finally, you text her and she tells you which room she is staying in. You nonchalantly walk out of your car, stroll into the hotel lobby as if you were a guest, and try to not make eye contact with any of the staff or patrons. You coolly walk up the stairs or ride the elevator. Finally, you’re face-to-face with her door. You knock. You wait. Seconds seems like minutes. Minutes seem like hours.

At last, the door opens!

You hold your breath in anticipation of what she’ll look like. What will the moment be like when you first get to lay eyes on her magnificent body? You then take a deep breath and look directly at her.

Um, oh.

She’s short. Perhaps several inches shorter than you. She’s pretty, but not as pretty as a supermodel. Her hair is unkempt. She has noticeable but not distractingly foul body odor. She’s muscular, but not as huge as you thought she’d be. Is she ripped? Well, sort of. She’s in excellent shape, but her figure doesn’t make my eyeballs pop out of their sockets. But most of all, you still cannot believe how short she is! Even with heels, she doesn’t come close to breaking six feet tall. What’s with that?

As the evening progresses, you have fun doing what you want to do. You get to touch her muscles. You get to playfully wrestle with her on the bed. You may even get a hand job from her at the conclusion of your appointment. All in all, the evening was a blast, but it wasn’t life altering.

Your perspective on life did not change. She was pleasant and awesome to be around, but she didn’t exactly cast a magical spell on you. She was cute, but your high school girlfriend was way cuter.

You come away from your appointment not totally disappointed, but slightly dissatisfied. You struggle to pinpoint why. The evening went exactly as planned. She delivered on all her promises. She’s a friendly lady who’s chill, down-to-earth, and can maintain an interesting conversation. What gives?

Shawna Walker showing off her hard work.

Shawna Walker showing off her hard work.

As time goes on, you realize the problem isn’t her. The problem is you. She did nothing wrong. She’s a beautiful muscular woman who’s trying to make a living doing what she loves to do. Your feelings of being let down isn’t her fault. It’s your fault. You were the one who built up unrealistic expectations in the first place. You constructed an image in your head that could never live up to its hype. Oh well. Live and learn, right?

Yup. That’s the way it goes in life. Live and learn. That’s all you can do.

Without question, female bodybuilders conjure up in our imaginations all sorts of wild thoughts, feelings, and fantasies. After all, since muscular women are rare in our world, all we have is our imaginations. And the human mind has a funny way of creating perceptions out of thin air that are based on nothing more than stereotypes, rumors, and hopes.

In our dreams, we concoct visions of what female bodybuilders are actually like. They’re superhuman, larger-than-life, and the most beautiful and flawless creatures on planet Earth. While FBBs are certainly gorgeous in their own unique ways, they’re not superhuman, larger-than-life, or flawless. They’re people just like you and I. They have good days and bad days, just like us. They have moments when they smell bad, just like us. They’re strong but not supernaturally strong, just like us (at least those of us who make an effort to get stronger).

In the back of our minds, we all know this. We know celebrities are flawed human beings just like the rest of us. Yet, we somehow get surprised or react intensely whenever they accidentally trip over themselves on the red carpet or say something offensive on Twitter. I mean, what were you expecting?

Those of us who ever get the chance to meet in-person a muscular woman may be in for a few surprises – however you define “surprises.” Whether those surprises are positive or negative often depend on what your initial expectations were to begin with. If you’ve elevated muscular women to a level of goddess-like divinity, then you’re going to be in for a disappointing shock. If your expectations are much more modest, then you might actually be in for a few pleasant surprises. How do you like them apples?

Returning to the analogy of adopting a puppy, even being an experienced pet owner may not totally prepare you for the full gamut of what it’s like to own a living and breathing animal. Perhaps your family owned a dog when you were a kid, but your parents did most of the work walking it, feeding it, and cleaning up after it. For sure Mom and Dad were the ones who bought the dog food. If you’re a broke recent college graduate, the cost of buying pet food can be taxing considering you can barely afford to feed yourself. Suddenly, your childhood memories of being a “dog owner” don’t actually prepare you for being a dog owner as an adult. Experience matters, but it all depends on the depth of your experience.

Likewise, watching endless videos and looking at thousands of photos of female bodybuilders – which should describe almost all of us! – will not necessarily prepare you for what it’s like to actually meet a female bodybuilder in the flesh. Like any form of media, photos and videos do not paint a complete picture. Clever lighting, PhotoShop, and creative editing can hide or enhance many things. Don’t get me wrong – female bodybuilders are certainly gorgeous when you meet them up-close-and-personal – but don’t expect them to be as flawless as your imaginations may recklessly hype you up to believe.

Speaking of short, did you know Tera Guzman is 4' 11"?

Speaking of short, did you know Tera Guzman is 4′ 11″?

The human mind has a funny (or tragic) way of playing games with us when it comes to our perceptions of the world. Because we cannot possibly experience and fully understand everything, we are forced to compartmentalize our perceptions into easy-to-digest bits of information. Examples of this are too many, but suffice to say the way we think about female bodybuilders definitely fits into this paradigm.

Some of us will never meet a female bodybuilder. Many of us will, but not for very long. Most of us will encounter athletic-looking women in our everyday lives, but rarely have the chance to get all our questions about them answered. Do you really want to ask a random stranger at the gym who’s just gotten done doing bicep curls what her clit looks like? That’s a good way to get kicked in the groin, if you catch my drift!

Indeed, our expectations don’t always meet reality. But the valuable lesson to be learned isn’t that this is always a bad thing or a negative reflection upon female bodybuilders themselves. Often, it’s a product of our own wild imaginations taking us to strange and magical places. Or it’s because we seldom are able to actually see female bodybuilders up close, so we don’t quite know what to expect. Or, it’s a byproduct of the nature of female bodybuilders as a whole:

They’re peculiar, thought-provoking, mysterious, and gloriously enigmatic creatures who summon in our feeble minds some of the most outlandish and irrational beliefs imaginable. Therefore, it is a struggle and our responsibility to dial back these perceptions out of respect to these incredible women.

Yeah, that’s probably more like it.

Who is Your Fantasy Female Bodybuilder?

Tall, strong, and beautiful. That's Shawn Tan.

Tall, strong, and beautiful. That’s Shawn Tan.

I present to you a simple question: Who is your fantasy female bodybuilder?

The answer to this question isn’t necessarily your favorite FBB or the one you find to be the most beautiful. It’s the one you fantasize about the most often – whether you consciously choose to or not. Sometimes daydreams (especially of the erotic variety) have a way of popping into your head without you knowing it, you know what I mean?

So let’s provide a hypothetical scenario that you should consider for kicks and giggles:

You have a whole evening to spend with the female bodybuilder of your dreams. From 6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. the next morning, you have twelve consecutive hours to spend with her. You can do whatever you want with her. Nothing is off limits. Of course, in this dream scenario she’s an enthusiastically willing participant. So you don’t have to worry about trying to impress her or capture her attention. You’ve already established that beforehand!

You can spend the evening doing whatever strikes your fancy. A romantic candlelit dinner complemented by an ice cold bottle of champagne can start the festivities. Or you could attend a concert together. Or the opera. Or an art museum. Or a BDSM dungeon. It doesn’t matter. It’s totally up to you what you do together with her.

Eventually, you’ll want to make love to her. Will it be slow and sensual? Or suave and romantic? Or dirty and kinky? Will it involve rose petals and fine wine? Or handcuffs and whips? Likewise, it’s totally up to your imagination. Anything is possible.

You can spend the whole evening caressing her gorgeous muscular body and making love to her, or you can choose to cuddle and fall asleep like two old lovers. You can be at an idyllic seaside resort, a snowy log cabin in the middle of the woods, or at a luxurious penthouse suite that sits several stories above the city. Or, if you’re into this sort of thing, you can be tied up in a secluded basement somewhere surrounded by hot candlewax, clothespins, and a blindfold.

Regardless of where your imagination takes you, you will enjoy the evening like nothing else had ever existed before it. You will enjoy the pleasure of her company, as will she enjoy yours. But once 6:00 a.m. rolls around, she instantaneously disappears and you are magically transformed back to your normal life – as if nothing had ever happened.

No consequences, no witnesses, no strings attached.

Just you and her. Nobody else. Threesomes may strike your fancy, but for the sake of this hypothetical situation, you can only choose one female bodybuilder to spend the evening with for twelve glorious erotic hours.

So…who do you got?

For me, this is a tough one. There are so many gorgeous female bodybuilders in this world of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, nationalities, and personalities that it’s way too difficult to choose one I would want to spend an entire evening with. I do know that regardless of who I choose, I’m going to have a swell time!

Instead of telling you up front who I would choose to be my Fantasy Female Bodybuilder, I will tell you my top three in descending order. After all, I don’t want this to be the shortest blog post of all time, so I need something to discuss. So cue the drumroll, please.

Alina Popa, the Undisputed Queen of Female Bodybuilding!

Alina Popa, the Undisputed Queen of Female Bodybuilding!

Second Runner Up: Alina Popa

How strange a world we live in when Alina Popa, The Undisputed Queen of Female Bodybuilding, finishes in third place. But that’s how things operate in my active imagination. I once wrote a blog post saying that Alina Popa is my #1 favorite female bodybuilder of all time. I’m not sure if that’s still how I feel, but I’m a sucker for someone who’s at the top of their game and is currently considered one of the best (if not the best) in her sport.

Alina is one smoking gorgeous woman. She’s huge but still undeniably feminine. Her adorable Romanian accent doesn’t hurt, either! She lives in Lakewood, Colorado right now, which I suppose makes her an honorary American. She might be a U.S. citizen, but I can’t confirm or deny that. Regardless, my home country is richer and better off because Miss Popa resides in it.

What makes Alina great is her impeccable balance between being hypermuscular and strongly feminine. As a Ms. Olympia contestant (she definitely would have won a few had Iris Kyle decided to retire a couple years earlier) Alina possesses an impressive amount of muscle mass. Have you seen her arms? She could probably crush a watermelon with her bare hands if she wanted to.

But she’s also feminine in every sense of the word. Her face is traditionally beautiful and has not developed any unseemly masculine qualities over time. Her voice remains unquestionably lyrical, even though she does speak from a slightly lower register than most other women. She doesn’t seem arrogant, egotistical, or condescending. Then again, I’ve never personally met Alina, so I don’t actually know what she’s like in real life. But I’d imagine she’s a sweet lady with a big heart.

Alina has chosen not to get breast implants, so she allows her chest to remain flat as she enters her peak condition. Personally, I love female bodybuilders who decide to stay “natural.” I don’t judge at all any muscular woman who chooses surgical enhancements (she’s in control of her own body, of course), but I have a soft spot for FBBs who don’t care what society says and proudly lets her breasts shrink as her muscles get bigger and bigger.

As a premiere world-class female bodybuilder, I’d love to just chat with Alina and learn about her life’s journey. How did she get into bodybuilding? What drives her to become an elite-level competitor? What are the biggest challenges she faces on a daily basis? What major obstacles have she had to overcome? What are some obstacles she has yet to conquer? Where do you go from here? Inquiring minds need to know!

A romantic evening, alone with Alina and her flawless body, is just what he doctor would order – assuming my doctor understands what’s good for me. Perhaps in a different universe I would choose Alina to be my #1 Fantasy Female Bodybuilder. But in this concoction of reality, she is only #3, as astonishing as that sounds.

Angela Salvagno isn't for everyone, but she's definitely the gal for me!

Angela Salvagno isn’t for everyone, but she’s definitely the gal for me!

First Runner Up: Angela Salvagno

Angela Salvagno is a rare female bodybuilder who understands why guys love female bodybuilders and is not afraid to maximize her assets for personal gain. My #1 Fantasy Female Bodybuilder is the expert at this endeavor, but we’ll get to her a little later. For now, let’s indulge in Angela’s greatness.

Unlike Alina, Angela isn’t for all tastes. Her raspy voice and unique-looking face (which could be a euphemism for “homely”) doesn’t appeal to everyone. But what I love about Miss Salvagno is her undiluted sexiness and unapologetic way she shows off her beautiful body. She doesn’t try to appeal to a mass audience and instead hones in on her specific targeted audience. In many ways, Angela is an exemplary model of the modern-day female bodybuilder: She accepts she’ll never be mainstream but doesn’t hesitate to appeal just to the people who love her for who she is.

So, who is she exactly? Angela is a woman who revels in her fetishistic allure and proudly showcases what makes her fans love her. She will show off her large clitoris for the camera. She does not hesitate to reveal every inch of her body. She gives us permission to watch her, drool over her, jerk off to her, and fantasize about her. She allows us to fetishize her muscles without apology and without embarrassment. In other words, she wants us to fetishize her!

She knows not everyone will “dig” her look, but she doesn’t care about that. She could give a rat’s ass about people who are disgusted by her. Instead, Angela is just as comfortable sporting a leather-bound dominatrix costume and stroking a comically oversized black dildo as she is masturbating for the camera (and showing us her vulnerable side) while she screams and moans toward another orgasmic climax. She doesn’t pretend that millions of people will watch her do these things because she’s perfectly happy with a few thousand watching her instead.

I’d love to spend an evening with her because she’d know what I’d like to do with her. She can be a “bad girl” or she can just be herself – it all depends on what mood I’m in at the moment. She can be intimidating and authoritative, but in a “wink, wink” kind of way instead of in a frightening sort of way. Angela is super sexy, but in all fairness there are times when her sexiness feels a bit forced. I’m not judging her too harshly for that because I still think she’s jaw-dropping.

An evening with Angela would be an evening with a cool gal who’s strong, confident, savvy, and unafraid to smash the limits that society places onto her. Her personality does seem somewhat artificial in her videos, but I get the feeling she’s sweet and down-to-earth once the cameras aren’t pointed her way. Regardless, how can you possibly not want the opportunity to suck on her gorgeous clit?

Angela’s genitals are gorgeous. Her clit is, like the rest of her body, meaty. There’s a lot of flesh resting between her legs. Who wouldn’t want to taste her essence and experience all she has to offer?

Speaking of big juicy clits…

Denise Masino and her legendary clit. Need I say more?

Denise Masino and her legendary clit. Need I say more?

Winner: Denise Masino

Very predictable, perhaps. But I don’t care. Denise Masino is my favorite female bodybuilder of all time (sorry Alina!) and I would love nothing more than to spend an entire erotic evening with her.

What more can be said about Denise that I haven’t written about before? Well, not much, but I will say this: Denise Masino is everything you want in a female bodybuilder and more.

Her Puerto Rican ancestry gives her an exotic look that’s completely irresistible. She’s beautiful in ways that appeal to fans and non-fans of FBBs alike. She muscular, confident, self-assured, highly intelligent, clever, conscientious, and sexy as hell. She’s feminine but does not allow herself to be put into a box. She can be coy and devilish but at the same moment maintain her dignity and realism. Unlike Angela, Denise’s sex appeal doesn’t feel false at all. She doesn’t need to “act sexy” because she’s naturally sexy just as she is. That’s a rare quality in any kind of person.

Denise isn’t necessarily the most muscular FBB around or the most naturally beautiful. But she doesn’t need to be any of those things. She may not captivate everyone when she walks into a room, but I can guarantee that if you spend any time talking with her about her life, you’ll want to stop whatever you’re doing, toss your wedding ring into a nearby trash can, and hail the next Uber to her hotel room. That’s the power she has over guys like me.

Of course, we must talk about her clit. Like Angela, Denise is well-endowed and is not afraid to prove it at every chance she gets. For that, I am eternally thankful.

There aren’t too many women who are famous for their clitoris, so Denise is in rare company. The “little penis” protruding out between her legs is legendary within the female muscle fan community (at least with this particular member of the female muscle fan community!) for good reason. It’s thick, meaty, juicy, and seemingly always engorged. And what’s best is that she isn’t shy about showing it off to anyone who’s willing to watch. Many FBBs are self-conscious and ashamed by having a “little penis” because it feeds into the negative stereotypes that female bodybuilders are secretly men or are biologically transitioning away from femininity. Denise doesn’t give a fuck about those stereotypes and proudly displays her big clit without shame. She is far from embarrassed by it. On the contrary, she’s proud of it. As she should be!

What would Denise be like in bed? I’d imagine passionate, confident, and intelligent. In other words, she’d just be herself. And that’s all she needs to be, damn it.

So there you have it. Denise Masino is my Fantasy Female Bodybuilder, but Angela Salvagno and Alina Popa are not far behind. What’s incredible is that if you were to ask me this same question a month from now, my answers might completely change. Perhaps I’d choose Minna Pajulahti as my first choice followed by Lindsay Mulinazzi and Deidre Pagnanelli. Or Lisa Cross, Victoria Dominguez and Monica Martin. Or Shawn Tan, Emery Miller and Annie Rivieccio.

Holy smokes. The possibilities are endless, are they not? But for now, I’m sticking to Alina, Angela and Denise.

I love Alina because of her accomplishments. I love Angela because of her rawness. I love Denise because of her realness. All three women are eye-popping and unforgettable in different ways. They aren’t for all tastes, but they’re definitely my personal cup of tea.

What about you? Who’s your Fantasy Female Bodybuilder? I’d like to know!

Appreciating Every Square Inch of Her Muscular Body

Beautiful sexy mama Dena Anne Weiner.

Beautiful sexy mama Dena Anne Weiner.

If you have an affinity for muscular women, it’s not enough for you to want to see her body. You want to touch her body. And not just parts of her body; you want to touch every square inch of her muscular body.

This fantasy is common for guys who love female bodybuilders. There’s a stereotype that guys are visual creatures when it comes to sexuality. I’m not here to debunk that idea, but instead to add to it. It’s true that men love the sight of a beautiful woman (or man, depending on his sexual orientation), but we also appreciate the tactile dimension of human attraction.

Touch matters. Taste matters. Scent matters. There are five senses, not just one or two. Perhaps more than “conventionally” beautiful women, muscular women evoke in our imaginations a desire to experience her with all five of our senses.

On a practical level, how does this play out? Usually through engaging in a muscle worship session with a female bodybuilder/wrestler/erotic provider.

Muscle worship isn’t just about living out one’s fantasies. It’s about experiencing what’s right there in front of you. A muscular woman’s body is the object of desire that sends shivers down one’s spine. What’s important isn’t just enjoying the idea of a strong beautiful woman, but actually being able to meet, talk with, and sensually explore a strong beautiful woman’s physical form. It is this experience that makes our hearts skip a beat and forces time to seemingly stand still.

What explains this? The ethereal nature of female bodybuilders is one explanation. We often treat muscular women like “goddesses” and “angels,” divine beings who are deities incarnate. We know a female bodybuilder isn’t actually a spiritual being in the flesh, but we nevertheless use these types of analogies because they’re the closest way we can describe our affinity for them.

And how are divine beings supposed to be treated? As if you’re not worthy of being in their presence, but you will enjoy being in their presence regardless. When a peasant is fortunate enough to meet the King or Queen, it’s as if they’re meeting God himself. They feel uncomfortable talking to them directly, looking at them in the eye, or offending their sensibilities. It’s not necessarily because they’re afraid of punishment (which could often actually be the case), but rather they’re in awe of being able to be in front of a person of such high political and social power.

Likewise, those of us who are lucky enough to meet a female bodybuilder up close and personal know what this is like. We get a dry throat. Our speech starts to stammer. We can’t think straight or finish a coherent sentence. We act strangely. We cannot sit still if our lives depended upon it. Most of us are able to act cool, calm and collected, but we all have our moments. Like a pyramid-building slave lying prostrate before Pharaoh, we realize we’re no longer in Kansas, Toto. We’re in the same room as a beautiful muscle goddess. Ain’t that something?

Flavia Crisos's lower body is a gem.

Flavia Crisos’s lower body is a gem.

Throughout history, kings and queens were actually treated like deities because their rule was considered divinely approved (or directed). Regal figures may not technically have been considered gods and goddesses, but if the Almighty appoints you the King of France or the Queen of England, who has the right to question your legitimacy?

Today, we realize female bodybuilders are not divinely chosen to be who they are. Yet, that same attitude still persists. If mankind (which obviously includes women) is created in the image of God, aren’t we then logically touching the very body of the Divine?

You don’t need to be a religious scholar to understand why it’s so special to touch a muscular woman’s body. Our psychological and cultural upbringing leads us to treat certain human beings as more than just human beings. The same goes for celebrities, major political figures, world-class athletes and anyone else whose accomplishments we admire. Our admiration for them most likely isn’t sexual in nature, but that doesn’t change the fact our behavior around famous people is very different compared to how we act around “normal” people.

So that explains the shivers that go down your spine when you shake a female bodybuilder’s hand or the giddy feeling you get as you walk down the hallway and approach her hotel room. But once you actually meet her and your session (assuming we’re talking about a muscle worship session) commences, you cannot help but want to touch every single square inch of her gorgeous body. Her body is a work of art and deserves to be appreciated on a tactile level. And in this moment, you’re the one who is allowed to do that.

It’s not just her biceps, abdomen, back or thighs that you want to touch. You also want to touch the parts of her body that aren’t necessarily big and muscular. Her nape (the back part of her neck), her face, her ankles, her wrists, her fingers, her elbows, her flat breasts, everywhere. You want to experience all of her…even if you never would’ve been interested in touching those parts of a non-muscular woman’s body.

You may have a beautiful wife or girlfriend, but odds are she isn’t a bodybuilder. You might find her to be pretty and she may have a great looking body. But you don’t fetishize her fingers. They’re just fingers, for crying out loud! But when you see and feel a female bodybuilder’s hard calloused fingers – tangible proof of her years and years dedicated to weightlifting and busting her tail at the gym – a jolt of electricity surges throughout your entire nervous system. This experience is completely different. A female bodybuilder is a whole other species of human being. You’ve made love to your significant other countless times, but never during your relationship with her have you ever gotten aroused from touching her arms. When you feel an FBB’s swollen biceps and triceps, on the other hand, you feel like you might pass out and fall into a decade-long coma.

What more can be said about Theresa Ivancik?

What more can be said about Theresa Ivancik?

Even if you’ve never participated in a muscle worship session or wrestling match with a muscular woman, this fantasy could still be present inside your imagination. You really want to feel Debi Laszewski’s calves, but you also (for some very odd reason) want to touch her lips, teeth, and chin. It’s strange to possess the desire to do this, but you cannot explain why. Nor do you feel the need to ever explain why. Your desires are your desires and you refuse to apologize for having them.

From personal experience, I can tell you that one of my biggest turn-ons is caressing a muscular woman’s face. Her face obviously isn’t muscular or radically different from any other kind of woman’s face. During my first ever muscle worship session, I took lots of time to caress her cheek. It was the most erotic moment of the evening. The feel of her crow’s feet and wrinkles aroused me like nothing else did. Yes, she was an older woman (she’s just as old as my parents, believe it or not), but that wasn’t the reason. I loved touching her body, even the parts of her body that wasn’t muscular. I loved every moment of it.

During other muscle worship sessions, I’ve felt the weird desire to rub her feet (and I am not a foot fetishist!), feel her callouses, and caress the back of her neck. I wanted to experience every single inch of her. Her muscles are beautiful (obviously!) but they aren’t the most erotic part of her physical self. Her most erotic feature is….everything.

Everything. Every inch of her. Everything.

It’s not just about her muscles. When female muscle skeptics question why guys and gals like us are so into female bodybuilders, it can be difficult to fully explain. To do justice to articulating what it’s like to have a female muscle fetish requires going beyond a muscular woman’s muscles and talking about everything else. It’s not just her wide shoulders, broad back, and rounded calves that we love. It’s also her lips. And the back of her knees. Her veiny forearms. The crinkles around her eyes. The palms of her hands that are covered with rigid dead skin. It’s everything about her.

Female bodybuilders are just like the rest of us, but we don’t always think of them that way. We all know they at one time in their lives looked “normal,” but we cannot help but focus on who they are presently rather than who they used to be. It’s easier to only look at the final product instead of the journey it took to get to that final product. In other words, in the back of our minds female bodybuilders are not actually just like the rest of us, even though we logically know that they are.

They exist on a different metaphysical plane. They might walk amongst us mortals, but they are indeed goddess among men. They aren’t just physically beautiful. They’re intellectually, philosophically, and spiritually beautiful as well. We love them to death but struggle to explain why. Yet, we feel no need to have to explain why. We just do and that’s the end of the story.

If you chat with a fellow female muscle lover, you experience a really awesome sense of unspoken mutual understanding that’s incredibly liberating. You both know why you love FBBs. You don’t feel embarrassed or emasculated admitting to a complete stranger that you love muscular women because they do too. You can admit out loud (or in writing) that you want to lick Alina Popa’s triceps and the other person won’t blink an eye or ridicule you for it. Odds are they want to do the exact same thing! You want to experience every square inch of her, even the inches that not too many of us are keen on. But, they understand and are probably in agreement with you.

Whether you’re lucky enough to meet a female bodybuilder in person or if you just fantasize about meeting one, we all want to do the very same thing with them: appreciate every square inch of her body. Maybe this appreciation is tactile, or perhaps it’s more theoretical. Even the parts of her body that aren’t muscular intrigue us. It’s irrational, but we all know what we’re dealing with here (hence, it goes unspoken).

Jodi Miller knows how to dress herself.

Jodi Miller knows how to dress herself.

So this essay is less expository and more stream-of-consciousness. I apologize if I’m not making a whole lot of sense! This is just a natural continuation of a common theme found in all my writing: female bodybuilders are special in ways that cannot be entirely described. They seem like they belong in a separate caste. Their bodies aren’t just beautiful, they’re divine. And it’s not just their muscles that arouse our interest. It’s every single facet of their beings that makes our hearts skip a beat.

It’s inconceivable why a seemingly limited topic can be subject to millions of essays, conversation threads, blogs, and e-mail exchanges. Compared to conventional topics like politics, parenting, space exploration, Harry Potter fandom, pop music, fly fishing, knitting, or scuba diving, the world of female bodybuilding appears to be limited in scope. After all, is there a single female bodybuilder who is also a household name? Outside of watching the Olympics, how often is the general population exposed to muscular women? Why do FBBs pique our interest so much despite their lack of coverage in mainstream media?

There is no definitive answer. Nor should there be. Female bodybuilders capture our hearts and minds simply because that’s exactly what they do.

Here’s another theory. Sometimes, our minds cannot accept something until we are able to experience it in a more profound way. For example, we all know that we should look both ways before crossing a street. We’ve been taught this by our parents, grandparents, babysitters, and schoolteachers ever since we were little children. Theoretically, we know this is an important piece of advice.

However, we don’t actually start to internalize it until we have a “big scare” moment. Imagine that you’re 16 years old and on one fateful day you don’t look both ways before walking through an intersection. You don’t hear any oncoming traffic so you assume there isn’t any. Before you can take another step, a speeding car zooms by and nearly hits you. If you collide with the car, the car will win 100 percent of the time. You’ll be dead or at the very least severely injured. But assume, for the sake of this illustration, you narrowly escape certain doom and you survive just fine. Suddenly, the old advice of “look both ways before crossing the street” takes on a whole deeper level of meaning for you. Before, you knew on the surface this was important advice. But now, after experiencing a brush with near-death, you now comprehend this adage on a more tangible level.

You don’t just know the words of this proverb. You understand its entire rationale. Will you ever blindly stroll through an intersection ever again? Probably not.

Likewise, we know female bodybuilders and muscular women of all shapes and sizes are real. But it doesn’t actually sink in until you meet one in the flesh. Or when you start to touch her muscular flesh. When you feel her hardness and experience her remarkable strength, as the newer saying goes, “shit gets real.” You know she’s real but your brain struggles to accept that she is who she appears to be.

She’s a woman. She also has more muscles than most men. She’s strong. But most women you know aren’t nearly as strong. How can this be? How does this compute?

Hence, you feel compelled to touch every single inch of her because your brain needs to tangibly experience her physical self in order to fully understand it. Her existence causes cognitive dissonance that isn’t easily shaken. Knowing on a theoretical level that muscular women exist is one thing; being able to see her and feel her body is quite another.

Thai muscle goddess Penpraghai Tiangngok.

Thai muscle goddess Penpraghai Tiangngok.

Maybe this fascination wears off the more often you meet muscular women for sessions. That might be the case for me. Now that I’ve met a fair amount of female bodybuilders (and a few on multiple occasions) over the years, the novelty has sort of dissipated. I still get excited and antsy every single time I’m about her meet one for an appointment, but I’ll admit I’m starting to feel less anxious as the years go on. My electrified giddiness has been downgraded to “eager anticipation.” I used to want to actually touch every single inch of her body.

But now, I’m okay with touching most of it and not bothering with the rest.

However…I still have my moments.

Whenever I watch a video clip of a sexy female bodybuilder preening for the camera, my eyes still cannot leave the screen. I stop dead in my tracks and helplessly stare at:

The veins popping out of her bicep…
Her thick muscular legs spread out wide…
The proud revealing of her juicy big clit…
Her beautiful face smiling at me…
The irresistible sparkle in her eye…
Drops of sweat dripping down her neck and toward her chest…
Long erect nipples that look sooooooooo sensitive to the touch…
A broad back as wide as a refrigerator…
Her meaty triceps…
The striations of her quads…
A chiseled six-pack abdomen that’s begging to be licked dry…………….

…oh, baby….I can’t help but feel, um, uhh, errrrrr………….

<Dramatic pause>

Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOW!!! Holy Mother of God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WANT TO TOUCH EVERY SINGLE SQUARE INCH OF THAT GORGEOUS SEXY MUSCULAR BODY!!!!!!

RIGHT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

<Deep breath. Another dramatic pause>

Oh, I guess I still do feel that way. Silly me.