Angela Salvagno: A Female Bodybuilder for All Seasons

Angela Salvagno is a woman for every season.

The Perfect Female Bodybuilder may not exist. Never has, never will. But “perfection,” like any aesthetic (and non-statistical) standard, is all in the eye of the beholder. Perfection is an opinion more than an objective fact, something we should remember more often. It’ll make our personal relationships much more bearable.

And, of course, no female bodybuilder will ever be universally liked. Or universally fawned upon. Or, for that matter, universally accepted as being “more than okay.” Thankfully, consensus is not always the best measurement of one’s self-worth. Especially when we live in a world where there are five (and counting) sequels to “Transformers.” That’s five too many.

Angela Salvagno isn’t a consensus “favorite FBB of all time” pick. Nor is she someone who is polarizing. I don’t think there are people who love or hate her. It seems more fair to say that there are people who love her, like her, are indifferent to her, and could not care less about her. Hate her? Nah. That’s not a reasonable response.

Personally, I love Angela Salvagno. I think she’s awesome. She isn’t one of my all-time favorites, although she deserves to be in my top 10. As the kids like to say these days, she isn’t the GOAT. Denise Masino is a GOAT. Alina Popa is a GOAT. Cindy Landolt is a GOAT.

Huh?

Oh yeah. “GOAT” means Greatest of All Time. Not “goat” as in what Charlie Brown tried to avoid being labeled on the baseball mound.

Angela Salvagno is a Female Bodybuilder for All Seasons. That isn’t to mean that she’s philosophically, spiritually, and morally incorruptible in the face of external societal pressure. No, that would be Sir Thomas More. Rather, Miss Salvagno incorporates a multitude of characteristics that make up the identity of a modern female bodybuilder. She does many of them well. Not perfectly, but well enough to capture our undivided attention.

Angela Salvagno was born on January 13, 1976 in Willows, California. After growing up in Orland, CA, Angela now lives in South Florida. Or maybe she’s moved back and resides in Northern California again. Who knows. Her biographical information is sketchy at best. She is of Italian, German, and Native American descent. She’s always been sporty, having participated in baseball and Tae Kwon Do before pursuing bodybuilding. She began lifting weights at age 16 and competed in her first show when she was 23 (give or take). She started competing in 1999 and can still be seen on the stage today. That’s 20 years as a serious competitor, for those of you keeping score at home. Most recently, she competed in the 2018 IFBB Tampa Pro, placing 11th in the Women’s Bodybuilding category. Miss Popa finished 1st, naturally.

Speaking of which, unlike Alina Popa very few bodybuilding fans will consider Angela an elite competitor. Her résumé is still spectacular, though. She’s done quite a lot in her career on the stage, but in recent years she hasn’t made large waves. But she doesn’t need to.

I’ve written about “classy” vs. “smutty” female bodybuilders before. As an example, Cindy Landolt and Deidre Pagnanelli are classy while Yvette Bova and Kathy Connors are smutty. Before we continue, I’d like to point out that these labels have nothing to do with who these women are individually. Rather, these are the public personas they’ve each chosen to adopt. This is how they choose to market themselves. Just because Cindy and Deidre keep nudity to a minimum (and never have sex on camera) doesn’t mean they’re prudes. Just because Yvette does videos where she has unprotected sex with a half dozen men all at once doesn’t mean she’s less deserving of respect. Her choice to be smutty is a personal choice. It empowers her. It enlivens her. It provides her with a steady career. And income. Regardless of which path these ladies choose to take, they all demand our love, affection, and most of all, utmost respect. Period, end of story. So this is not a judgement, but an observation.

That being said, Angela definitely leans in the “smutty” side of the spectrum. She is not hesitant about showing off her body. Every inch of her body. She’s worked hard to achieve her physique and she wants the entire universe to see it on display. She isn’t tall (she stands at only 5’ 3”) but she’s statuesque nevertheless. She’s perfectly sculpted. Her olive complexion allows her musculature to stand out. When she’s strutting around in high heels, she achieves full Muscle Goddess status. And when she’s being dirty…well, that’s when she achieves full Sex Goddess status.

Physically, Angela is nearly everything you want in a female bodybuilder. I was surprised to see that she’s only 5’ 3”. Another source says she’s 5’ 5”. Regardless, I was shocked. When you watch her videos and see her photos, she looks like she’s 6 feet tall. Towering. Authoritative. Powerful. In reality, she’s shorter than me. That’s an odd thing to think about. Her skin is perfect. It’s golden brown like the spray tan most bodybuilders have to use when competing. I don’t know if she uses any of that before walking on stage, but it doesn’t appear as though she has to.

Her face is pretty, but not stunning. Angela is more beautiful than the clichéd “girl-next-door” aesthetic, but she isn’t so gorgeous you feel like looking at her will turn you into stone. She has curves in all the right places but just enough muscle mass to appease those who value that sort of thing. She’s feminine but tough. Cocky to the point that it may annoy you, but you don’t care because you’re captivated by her sensual personality. Miss Salvagno’s “bad girl” act can wear thin at times, however that’s a small bone to pick. Overall, there isn’t much I can complain about her. I really, really like her. A lot. She is one of my favorites, after all.

An interesting observation: Like many FBBs, Denise doesn’t do many videos where she’s having sex with a man. She’s done videos where she wrestles guys, but not too many where she’s knocking boots with them between the sheets. There was, however, one noteworthy appearance on Showtime’s reality show Gigolos. Angela appeared in episode 5 of season 4 that aired on May 16, 2013. She has sex with the show’s star, Nick Hawk, after she shamelessly shows off her muscled physique for the camera. You can watch a clip of it on YouTube. You’ll have to dig around for the entire thing.

But other than that, Angela remains surprisingly chaste on camera. She isn’t quite like Denise Masino, whom I will compare Angela to momentarily. Denise is practically virginal when it comes to her on-camera persona. And on the other end of the continuum is Yvette Bova, who loves to stick as many penises into every orifice possible. Miss Bova craves getting it on with the cameras rolling. Denise is more shy – or professionally/morally/philosophically disinclined – about doing that. That’s her choice, of course. Not a complaint.

Angela loves showing off her body and being sexy, even if doing the deed with a guy or gal isn’t frequently part of the equation. I don’t think that’s anybody’s loss. She gives us plenty to enjoy. When she isn’t talking dirty to the camera, Angela can often be seen spreading her legs out wide and giving viewers an up-close look at her genitalia. Here is where it is appropriate to compare Miss Salvagno to Miss Masino.

Like Denise, Angela possesses beautiful genitalia. Long labia, enormous clitoris, pink vaginal walls, and neatly trimmed pubic hair give her the complete package. She’s gorgeous down there. I can’t tell if her clit is larger or smaller than Denise’s, but that’s almost beside the point. Both ladies have memorable genitals that fans cannot get enough of. It’s hypnotic, an addictive drug you can’t shake off. Once you get a good look at it, you’ll want to see more of it, over and over again. And like Denise, Angela knows it’s one of her most prized assets. It’s her moneymaker. Her fans love what she’s packing down there between her thick legs. She’s sporting more meat than some guys can claim to have (although that’s quite an exaggeration, so please forgive me). All in all, Miss Salvagno gives credence to the notion that women are independent and sovereign sexual beings who desire pleasure just as much as men do. If not more. There’s no doubt that Miss Salvagno enjoys her sexual abilities.

Unlike Denise, Angela isn’t as prolific in creating new videos for her fans. She’ll do videos if approached by a multimedia production company like Aziani Iron or SheMuscle. But she isn’t one to take matters into her own hands and film weekly videos of her doing sexy things like masturbating her clit or teasing us while wearing an enormous strap-on. As strange as this sounds in the 21st Century, Angela doesn’t even appear to have a personal website. She’s on Twitter and Instagram, though. But that’s about it. Very odd for a female bodybuilder in 2019.

But that’s okay. Miss Salvagno doesn’t need to produce the same abundance of media as Miss Masino. That would be awesome, but it’s her choice if she prefers to have a more low-key web presence. But what places her in the upper stratosphere of female bodybuilders is the fact that she can do it all. She’s considered “mainstream” within the bodybuilding industry, but also dabbles in “adult entertainment” with gleeful pride. I’m guessing the taboo of female bodybuilders also doing porn has waned in recent years. In the past, I believe such activities would be frowned upon by competition judges. Today, it’s most likely accepted (even begrudgingly) as the cost of doing business. More specifically, there isn’t enough cost of doing business so modern day FBBs need to create their own business in order to put food on the table and keep the lights on.

So she can compete on the stage and at the same time mark her territory in the world of pornography. On top of that, she’s well known among FBB fans worldwide. And she’s considered conventionally beautiful too. Well, maybe not as gorgeous as a Victoria’s Secret underwear model, but beautiful enough to make your heart flutter when you see her. She has a raspy voice, but she knows how to use it to her advantage. Especially when she’s having an orgasm. When she’s coming, she squeaks, squawks, and splutters to her heart’s delight. She doesn’t hold back. It’s quite a sight to see! And music to my ears.

We must talk about this. Angela, like many FBBs, is one well-endowed woman. There’s a reason why she isn’t shy about showing off her clit for the camera. She also has meaty labia that can stretch for several inches. Five or six inches, maybe? It’s hard to say for sure. Her considerable genitalia is a useful reminder that women are not merely men without penises. She may not have a penis, but she certainly has genitals. And unlike many women, her genitals are not entirely internal. Lots of it is external. I’m a big believer in the theory that this is at the heart of explaining our society’s historical attitudes toward male and female sexuality.

It’s easy to see men as sexual creatures because their sex organ is obvious. It’s outward. It’s external. It’s plain to see. Women, by contrast, possess sex organs that are less obvious. The vagina is inward. It’s internal. It’s not something you can plainly see – unless she spreads her legs out wide and parts her folds with her fingers as if she’s preparing to get a gynecological exam. Because of this difference, humankind naturally treats men as the proactive sexual provider and women as the passive sexual recipient. In the act of reproduction, that is technically true. But physiologically and psychologically speaking, that cannot be further from the truth.

The truth is that women are in fact sexual beings. They can be the proactive sexual provider if they are allowed to play that role. And, if they want to play that role. Many cultures forbid women from being the one who initiates sex. However, Angela Salvagno and many of her peers are living proof that this is a social construct, not destiny. Biology doesn’t determine your fate. Miss Salvagno’s meaty genitals prove that not only is she capable of experiencing sexual pleasure, but her genitals exist solely for sexual pleasure. Her genitals are not a commodity but a prize. It’s a tool for pleasure. Her pleasure. If a partner happens to be involved with her journey in seeking pleasure, that’s fantastic. But it’s not a requirement. Far from it.

Instead, she can experience as many orgasms as she wants all on her own. She doesn’t need a partner. She has her own fingers. And equipment like dildos, clit pumps, and vibrators. Her very existence is a slap in the face to the antiquated argument that women are not capable of being in charge of their own sexual destinies. This is part of why Angela is so special. Unlike the countless number of female porn actresses who participate in the world of “adult entertainment,” Angela isn’t trying to flatter her (almost) nonexistent male costar. She doesn’t screech, scream, moan, groan, gasp, swear like a sailor, and cry out to the Almighty just because her male viewers like hearing that stuff and it makes her male costar look like a stud. She screeches and moans because she’s enjoying herself. She’s experiencing her pleasure the way she wants to experience it. With or without a partner.

Because Angela’s gigantic genitals are right in front of you (of course, with a computer screen acting as a pesky medium), you cannot deny her sexual sovereignty. You cannot deny that her clit exists for one function only…and her willingness to utilize its function as often as she desires. Miss Salvagno is a Liberated Woman epitomized. She is who she is and she refuses to apologize if anybody is offended or disgusted by her antics.

Whether she’s measuring the size of her clit when elongated in a clip pump tube or wearing a comically large brown strap-on dildo, Angela Salvagno knows she’s sexy, knows her audience thinks she’s sexy, and doesn’t care that the general public ignores her. Heck, in that episode of Gigolos her scene partner Nick Hawk looks intimidated by her. Perhaps it’s all an act (which is probably closer to the truth since there’s nothing “real” about “reality television”), but he seems to appear like his masculinity is being tested when he’s with her. She has big muscles like he does. She seems in control. He seems more like the client than she does. He feels compelled to prove his masculine superiority because her very presence challenges it.

Does he – and by vicarious extension, every man who is watching this episode – succeed? It doesn’t matter, to be honest. Her feminine strength doesn’t invalidate his masculine strength. She may make some men feel insecure (many FBBs do, for the record) about themselves, but that’s more of a reflection of them than it is of her. She may excel at projecting the “bad girl” image, but that’s not who she really is. She doesn’t want to emasculate you…she just wants you to feel naughty.

Oh so naughty.

But if she happens to force you to reevaluate your own inflated sense of masculine superiority, so be it. If your ego is that overblown that you are genuinely intimidated by a strong muscular woman standing right in front of you, you probably deserve to feel a tad uncomfortable.

She is that multi-talented!

That is why Angela Salvagno is a Female Bodybuilder for All Seasons. She doesn’t have Cindy Landolt’s striking beauty, Denise Masino’s endearing charm, Alina Popa’s eye-popping physique, Yvette Bova’s unrestrained smuttiness, or Minna Pajulahti’s natural feminine grace. But she has just enough of all of those qualities to make her as lovable as any of them. She’s isn’t considered “elite” in any particular category, but she can hold her own when put to the test.

No matter where she is or what she’s doing, she goes about her business with gusto, energy, and pride. She has only one life to live and she’s making the most of it. No matter what season it is.

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Looking Up to Her

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what a ride it has been thus far.

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

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

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

Now she is completely nude.

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

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

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

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

The flawlessly beautiful Wendy Fortino.

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

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

“Oh fuck!” Shannon belts out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what the hotel balcony looks like.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck!”

Pleasure swells to its pinnacle…

…and arrives at a satisfying conclusion.

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

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

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

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

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

Looking up to her.

Thank Heavens for the Clit Pump

Denise Masino proudly showing off her best asset.

Throughout the history of human civilization, there have been several inventions that changed the trajectory of society for the better.

The wheel. The compass. Gunpowder. The printing press. The combustion engine. Vaccinations. The lightbulb. The telephone. The automobile. The computer. The Internet.

These new technologies revolutionized how human beings communicated, learned, traded, survived, and lived. Without getting too deep into the weeds, suffice to say that these inventions – and its descendants that we still use today – have made it possible for our life expectancies to go up and the global population to boom to more than 7 billion people and counting.

Yet, there is one particular technology that we cannot overlook. We must not underestimate its importance to our shared humanity. To not acknowledge and recognize its impact would be intellectually dishonest.

What am I referring to?

The clit pump, of course!

Huh?

Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but hopefully you get the idea in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way.

The clit pump, in case you aren’t acquainted with its existence yet, is a sex toy that increases blood flow into a woman’s top erogenous zone using a small tube and hand pump that creates suction around the clitoris and labia. It is a device that is derived from the penis pump, a gadget that essentially does the same thing for men. The vacuum created inside the cylindrical tube both increases blood flow to the clitoris and enhances its size. This leads to the nerve endings in the clitoral head becoming more sensitive – and subsequently heightens sexual pleasure.

Women tend use clit pumps to masturbate, as foreplay before actual sex, or alternatively on the nipples, which is also an erogenous zone. Since lots of female bodybuilders have larger than normal clits, it makes perfect sense why they’d love to use a clit pump – and why fans of female bodybuilders love watching them use it. It’s a textbook win-win situation.

Any casual fan of female bodybuilding has probably watched a video or two (or three, or four, or five) of a female bodybuilder using a clit pump to pleasure herself. Some prominent FBBs who’ve participated in such videos include Denise Masino, Amber DeLuca, Brandi Mae Akers, Angela Salvagno, Ashlee Chambers, and Kathy Connors. There have probably been others, but this should give you the idea that this activity isn’t rare or unusual.

Angela Salvagno is redefining how we think women “should” look.

The benefit a clit pump provides a woman shouldn’t have to be explained in further depth. You can probably imagine how much pleasure it gives them to have such a sensitive part of the body stimulated in a sucking manner. Um, yeah.

However, female bodybuilders are a different breed of woman. And fans of female bodybuilders recognize this fact as clearly as anyone. Watching a female bodybuilder use a clit pump is an experience unlike any other. Yes, that could seem like hyperbole, but it does indeed deserve special acknowledgment.

The reasons why we love female bodybuilders and their big clits have been outlined before, but here’s a brief summary: In short, a large clitoris is an outward expression of an FBB’s sexual sovereignty. Unlike the vagina, which is an internal organ that serves – at least from a reproductive standpoint – the purposes of receiving a man’s penis and birthing a child, the clitoris is an external-facing organ that exists for the sole purpose of giving a woman sexual pleasure. It’s hypersensitive and provides her satisfying orgasms. However, because the clit is normally very small, our culture at large (as well as other cultures around the world) doesn’t always recognize its importance to a woman’s sexual health. It’s not talked about at school or at home. Thus, many women across the globe never realize what their clitoris is and what unique function it serves.

Men, on the other hand, have penises. The penis is a much larger external organ that is obvious in its appearance and universally understood to give a man sexual pleasure. No culture throughout human history has ever misunderstood the purpose of the penis. Therefore, boys do not grow up not knowing what purpose this organ serves and what benefits it can provide. It also gives men a sense of unearned sexual superiority because of the obvious nature of this particular organ. Women, however, do not have the luxury of possessing an outward-facing organ that serves an obvious sensual purpose. The clitoris is small and is often overshadowed by the vagina, which can be seen as a “passive” organ that only exists to please the penis during coitus.

We know that the vagina isn’t a passive organ, but that fact isn’t ingrained in our culture’s psyche. However, women who possess a larger-than-normal clitoris are a different matter. They do in fact possess an organ that is both obvious in its appearance and unambiguous in its functionality. It gives a woman pleasure, period. End of story. No need to elaborate.

So, an FBB with big muscles and a large clitoris is a special kind of woman whose sexual independence is punctuated by their enormous genitalia. They are in fact sexual beings who don’t just exist to please others, but exist for their own sake. They don’t need a man to please themselves. They don’t need another woman either, so this is not a matter of sexual orientation or preference. This is a case of sovereignty. This is a matter of our culture giving permission to women everywhere to enjoy their sex lives with or without a partner. It’s about women being able to experience orgasms without any rhyme or reason. She doesn’t need any reason to do so other than she desires to have orgasms. Whenever she wants to, how often she wants to. That is the definition of “sovereignty.” Unfortunately, this simple concept hasn’t always been universally agreed upon.

We’re better than we were in the past, but we still have a long way to go. For sure.

Whew!

A female bodybuilder fits the definition perfectly of a “strong independent woman,” yet our culture doesn’t see it that way. Our culture doesn’t really acknowledge female bodybuilders at all. They’re still at the fringes of the “mainstream” and don’t have a seat at the table. It’s a crying shame, but it’s a reality that FBBs and fans of FBBs have come to accept. For those of us who are aware of female bodybuilders and their vast accomplishments, we’ve come to appreciate their sovereignty. Their long hours at the gym, grueling dietary choices, and financial sacrifices are not lost on us. Nor is their sexuality lost on us. Far from it.

Ashlee Chambers filling that tube with her girly meat.

We all know Denise Masino possesses a lot of meat between her legs. A long clitoris, thick labia, and a fleshy pink vagina await anyone fortunate enough to be able to witness her substantial feminine endowments. But here’s the kicker: Her enormous genitalia doesn’t exist to please a man. Nor does it exist to please a woman. Instead, it only exists to please herself.

A clit pump only emphasizes that point. When you see Denise’s large clitoris become even larger, your eyes become so big you’re afraid they’ll pop out of their sockets. It serves as a valuable reminder that Denise is a sexually independent being. She might be showing off for the camera, but the real purpose of her performance is to prove a critically important point: Her body is capable of providing her immense sexual pleasure and she isn’t afraid to explore these possibilities to its fullest limits.

Denise, and every other FBB who’s shot clit pump videos, is willing to titillate her audience as well as educate them. She’s teaching them an important lesson in female sexuality. She’s schooling us on the fact that women are not passive creatures who need a man to please them. Rather, women are sexually autonomous and don’t have to apologize for being so. These ladies may not mean to make this statement, but they are regardless.

A clit pump, therefore, is a fantastic invention not just because of the primary function it serves, but also for its secondary function. It drives home the point in the most bombastic manner possible that women do not exist to give men pleasure. Women are not second-class citizens. They don’t have to be subordinate to anyone. These concepts are arbitrarily drawn up by our culture and have been passed down from generation to generation. When you see an FBB’s clitoral meat nearly fill up the entire tube, your jaw drops to the floor not just because you’re “impressed” by what she has, but also because you finally realize what you’ve been missing all these years: The way women experience sex isn’t radically different than how men experience sex.

Kathy Connors is not afraid to show us her best features.

Yes, there are remarkable differences. Biologically, male and female genitalia are very different. No reason to contest that. Yet, where they are similar is the basic configuration of how orgasm is achieved. Stimulate the genitals during the proper state of arousal…and orgasm will ensue.

This stimulation can be provided by a man. Or a woman. Or herself. Or by a toy. No matter what, the result is the same: Bliss.

There’s even one video where Denise jerks her clit off between her fingers, similar to how a man would masturbate. She strokes her endowment up and down until she comes. Of course, whether she actually climaxed in that moment is beside the point. What’s more important is how much guys watching this can identify with Denise’s actions. We’ve all been there in some form or fashion. It’s supremely arousing to see a lady do what we’ve been doing since we were teenage boys. Denise is a fine looking lady who’s strong, confident, intelligent, sexy, and proud of what her body can do for her. She isn’t ashamed. She isn’t embarrassed to have a large clitoris that provokes Internet trolls to make denigrating comments like “She’s actually a man!” or “Gross! That’s what steroids will do to you!” Denise isn’t a man of course, and not only are these idiots totally wrong, they’re missing out on enjoying an entire facet of femininity that many of us deeply appreciate.

FBBs who use clit pumps aren’t redefining “femininity.” Instead, they’re expanding the definition of it. Big muscles, large genitalia, and an assertive personality can also be feminine. FBBs aren’t trying to be like men; they’re trying to be a better version of themselves. When we see Angela Salvagno stretch her golden brown labia as far out as it can go, we’re reminded that she’s showing off her feminine body in all its glory. We’re not seeing a masculine-looking figure inhabiting a female body. We’re seeing a nontraditional womanly body that doesn’t conform to our preconceived notions of what “feminine” should look like.

These truths can go over the heads of far too many of us. However, clit pumps play an integral role in tearing down these barriers. When that clear tube is filled with 2-3 inches of meat, our philosophical paradigm shifts completely. We finally recognize the irrefutable truth that female bodybuilders are exactly that: females who build their bodies up to proportions that shatter our expectations. And they build their bodies in ways that go beyond their muscles. It includes their genitals, too.

Witnessing a cute girly girl like Brandi Mae Akers filling her tube with a couple inches of clitoral meat really proves the point that our perceptions of “masculine” and “feminine” are completely wrong. Our brains struggle to comprehend how someone so unmistakably feminine can also have such large genitals. How is that even possible? Then, she jokes about walking around in public with the tube still attached, giggling at the possibility of strangers stopping dead in their tracks when they see a pretty young lady like herself sport a substantial endowment between her legs. What a sight that would be!

Brandi Mae Akers says “peek-a-boo!”

Whether we’re dealing with a pretty girl-next-door like Brandi Mae or an intimidating Alpha Female like Amber DeLuca, both of these ladies force us to reevaluate how we should view the differences between men and women. Personally, when I see Amber proudly filling that tube with her large clit, I don’t feel insecure or apprehensive. Instead, I feel a sense of kinship and commonality with her. I feel like she isn’t all that different from me. She’s obviously quite different from me in every aspect of life, but in that moment I feel as though we’re two sides of the same coin.

Male/female. Masculine/feminine. Blah. Why does it matter? What’s the difference? Differences do exist, but why are we so focused on them all the time? Can’t we just celebrate our distinctions, recognize our similarities, and enjoy what every single one of us can bring to the table? I pray the world may wake up and finally realize that we’re tearing ourselves apart for no good reason.

In closing, we should be grateful that there are a number of female bodybuilders who are not afraid to pump their clits for the entire world to see. They’re not ashamed of what Mother Nature has endowed them with, as well as the side effects of living life as an elite bodybuilder. But it’s not just that they’re not afraid; they’re proud of their bodies. They take pride in being unique. They relish being able to shatter our preconceived notions of human sexuality and gender identities. They’re taking all of us to school one way or another.

Every time they film themselves using a clit pump, they’re planting seeds inside our imaginations of what women are actually capable of being. They aren’t people who “lack a penis,” but instead are people who affirmatively “have a vagina, labia, and clitoris.” These parts do not singularly define their identity, but they certainly play a role in shaping how we view and treat them. We take pleasure in watching them experience pleasure. And whether we know it or not, we’re becoming better people, little by little.

As they expand their clits to larger lengths, they’re also expanding our hearts to newer heights.

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.

Nude: A Muscular Woman’s Natural State (NSFW)

Emery Miller in her natural state.

Emery Miller in her natural state.

One year ago, I published a post titled “A Muscular Woman is Always Nude in Public, Even When Fully Clothed.” The basic gist of my article is that a woman with muscles cannot easily hide her muscles from the public. Even if she wears baggy clothing and acts as inconspicuous as possible, she can never fully conceal the fact that she is indeed a woman with big muscles.

So no matter what she does, where she goes, or who she associates with, her identity as a “female bodybuilder” is forever branded on her body – that is, until she decides to stop training and lets her muscles atrophy. She can run, but she can’t hide.

However, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. One does not pursue bodybuilding unless he or she is okay with, ahem, looking like a bodybuilder. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Yes, it is the whole point. No arguments there. I’d like to follow up this post with more thoughts on the concept of female muscle and nudity. Here it goes. Not only is a female bodybuilder always nude even when she’s fully clothed, when she is nude she’s actually in her “natural state.”

By “natural state,” I mean the way in which nature intended for something to be presented. As human beings living in human civilization, it is not encouraged to be naked in public. Nor is it natural for people to live clustered sedentary lives where they spend all their free time glued to a computer screen. In-person human interaction involving people actually looking at and talking to another human being has (nearly) gone by the wayside, thanks to the introduction of social media, texting, and other digital distractions. Life in the 21st Century may resemble a quasi-dystopian (and heavily exaggerated pre-apocalyptic) reality, but that doesn’t mean we can’t occasionally turn back the clock and return back to how we were supposed to behave.

Kathy Johansson showing off her best side.

Kathy Johansson showing off her best side.

As a particular sub-species of humanity, female bodybuilders belong in a unique category. Female bodybuilders are, in many respects, a prototypical 21st Century human being: Strong, independent, rebellious, entrepreneurial, and “feminine” by her own definition. Never mind the fact that female bodybuilders are not celebrated by our culture in quite the same way that pop stars and loudmouth politicians are; FBBs are women who are known to exist but aren’t given the adequate public space that they deserve to exist in.

So in a realistic sense, FBBs will forever be relegated to the backburner of greater society’s consciousness. Or more specifically, they’ll inhabit the backburner of the stove located in the shanty sitting 20 miles away from our culture’s proverbial kitchen. It’s a hard knock life, but a life that our beloved FBBs are willing and able to wade through.

But within the female muscle fan community – and to be sure, God knows how many of us are out there – the accomplishments of FBBs do not go unnoticed. In fact, we spend an inordinate amount of time experiencing these ladies as many ways as we can: Meeting them for muscle worship/wrestling sessions, watching their videos, looking at their photos, reading articles about them, following them on Instagram, etc. And if there is one theme that consistently comes up, it’s that we love seeing our gorgeous strong ladies wearing as little clothing as possible.

Granted, the desire to see a beautiful person without clothing isn’t particularly unusual. Adam didn’t notice Eve while she was wearing a nuclear hazmat suit. He noticed her when she was wearing…uh, nothing at all. I’m pretty sure if any of us were to see a beautiful person walking down the street wearing his or her birthday suit, we’d all stop what we’re doing and stare. If you wouldn’t so such a thing, well, I don’t know what to say to you.

However, in a strangely poetic way, female bodybuilders aren’t just beautiful women whom we would like to see naked. They’re beautiful women who should be naked all the time. A muscular woman should never be covered up. Her body should always be displayed in all its natural glory. A clothed muscular woman is a travesty. It’s an abomination. It’s unnatural, just like eating tropical fruit in the winter or listening to Christmas music in July.

The gorgeous Lindsay Mulinazzi.

The gorgeous Lindsay Mulinazzi.

As bodybuilders, FBBs dedicate their whole lives to developing their physical bodies to fit a certain desired aesthetic. It’s not a hobby. Nor is it just a career choice. It’s a lifestyle. What they eat, how they train, when they sleep, where they find themselves at any given moment, what they spend their money on; it’s all part of the life of being a pro (or exceedingly dedicated amateur) bodybuilder. In short, you don’t become a bodybuilder. Bodybuilding becomes you!

And the human body, when deliberately sculpted to look a certain way, deserves to be seen in its proper context. There’s a reason why bodybuilding contests feature contestants wearing almost nothing. Obviously, the competitors won’t wear anything that isn’t acceptable at any public beach, because “going commando” is still pretty taboo. It’s like going to the movies: Seeing hundreds of people get shot and blown up is okay, but seeing a bare female breast is totally wrong.

It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but plenty of things in life don’t make a lick of sense when you think about it.

So forget about this in a practical sense. I’m not suggesting female bodybuilders – and male bodybuilders, I suppose – should go around completely naked all the time. This is more of a philosophical discussion with regards to who female bodybuilders are and what they represent, not a call to action to defy indecent exposure laws!

Simply put, female bodybuilders should be appreciated in the nude whenever possible. Yes, it can be incredibly sexy to see a gorgeous FBB wearing frilly lingerie or a g-string bikini or a French maid’s outfit. But that’s all fun and games. I’m talking about how a female bodybuilder deserves to be seen.

What can you conclude by seeing Michelle Tuggle fully nude?

What can you conclude by seeing Michelle Tuggle fully nude?

You cannot fully appreciate her hard work unless you see every single square inch of her body. Her calves. Her quads. Her hips. Her butt. Her abs. Her arms. Her chest. Her neck. Her back. Her face. Her breasts. And yes, her genitals.

Her genitals may seem inconsequential, but they are not. Seeing a woman with big muscles and female genitalia proves the point once and for all that she’s a real woman. Whether her clitoris is small or abnormally large doesn’t really matter. What matters is the stark reminder that this hypermuscular human body is also a female body. Whether her breasts are small or large also doesn’t matter. They need to be seen. If her breasts are normal-sized, they serve as further reinforcement of her femininity. If they are flat, they could then be used to argue either that one doesn’t need breasts in order to be a woman or that “womanhood” needs to be redefined. Or more specifically, our concept of “womanhood” needs to be tossed out the window altogether.

The size of her muscles, the appearance of her genitalia and breasts, and the confidence in which she carries herself (or perhaps, lack of confidence if she’s self-conscious about anything) all tell us the complete story about her. If she’s embarrassed by her small breasts and large clit, this offers a clue to how she views her own femininity. If she’s damn proud of her big muscles, flat chest, and oversized genitals, we can surmise that she doesn’t give a damn what society says or that she wants society to dramatically change the way we view women.

As I’ve written before in a previous blog article, a large clitoris is beneficial for the perception of women and their sexualities. It proves that women are indeed sexually sovereign beings who deserve to experience pleasure whenever they desire to. The vagina is often (unfairly) mischaracterized as a passive bodily organ that only serves to receive a man’s penis during intercourse and to deliver a child during birth. Add to it a clitoris that is often too small to see (without zooming in very closely!) and you get a set of genitals that can be viewed as being submissive, dependent, and unremarkable.

A very sultry Desiree Ellis.

A very sultry Desiree Ellis.

However, that’s not even close to being true. But as far as perception goes, a big clitoris that resembles a very small penis can go a long way in proving the point that women do in fact possess an organ that exists solely to give her pleasure. We might know that in the back of our minds, but a larger-than-life clitoris that shocks you when you see it accentuates that point a hundred-fold.

Thus, yes, her genitals do matter. Every single inch of her body matters. You cannot truly understand who a female bodybuilder is unless you see her completely nude. But do not mistaken nudity with vulnerability. There’s a difference between being naked and being nude. “Naked” is when someone lacks clothing. “Nude” is a state of being in which one shows off all their skin. In other words, “naked” implies vulnerability, deficiency, and being unprotected. “Nude,” on the other hand, connotes an active choice to be bare.

Being naked is humiliating. Being nude is an empowering choice. See the difference?

A nude female bodybuilder is most likely to be in the “empowered” camp. But I guess that’s not always the case. In addition to being embarrassed by her genitalia or breasts, not everyone is comfortable being naked…regardless of the circumstances. Obviously, bodybuilders (male and female) tend to have fantastic looking bodies, but we all hold differing mores when it comes to showing off skin to the public.

There’s an undeniable difference between seeing a muscular woman clothed and a muscular woman completely nude. When clothed, we are reminded of her ordinariness. She wears shirts, pants, socks, shoes, and jackets just like the rest of us. It’s like she’s covering up who she really is, as if wearing clothes is just like Clark Kent wearing glasses to disguise the fact that he’s actually Superman. A female bodybuilder who’s wearing clothes is shielding her identity, albeit not completely.

Yes, you can still tell that she’s really darn muscular. Her tight jeans may generously show off her sculpted glutes and rock hard thighs, but it’s not even close to seeing the actual thing. I’m sure Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen suspected that Mr. Kent was actually somebody else, but who in their right mind would go all the way and suggest that he’s actually the Man of Steel? Preposterous!

Likewise, it’s not the same to look upon a fully-clothed female bodybuilder with a similar amount of awe and wonder if she were nude. That even goes for her wearing a bikini. She’s mostly nude…however there are still a few crucial parts still left uncovered.

Now, contrast that with a fully nude muscular woman. It’s as though you’re seeing her from a whole new perspective. She transcends her humanity and becomes a goddess. When you see her in her “natural state,” you truly are able to comprehend just how amazing her body is. You witness not just her physical beauty; you also get to experience her entire essence. Her personality, her hard work, her sacrifices, her lifestyle choices, her fears, her doubts, her dreams, her hopes; everything is right there on display. She hides nothing because this is who she really is.

This is how she’s meant to be seen.

You may be asking yourself: Does the same apply to a gorgeous non-bodybuilder woman? Well, not really. Without question, the sight of a beautiful nude woman is always pleasant to regard, whether she has big muscles or not. I’m only human. However, the major dissimilarity is that an FBB’s sculpted body is so crucial to her identity. Her chiseled physique is central to who she is as a person and what she’s dedicated her life toward accomplishing.

The real Jungle Woman: Rita Sargo.

The real Jungle Woman: Rita Sargo.

A beautiful non-muscular woman isn’t quite the same. A supermodel can wear a sultry black dress and make jaws drop to the floor (although I believe “slay” has become the currently accepted nomenclature). If a female bodybuilder were to wear the exact same dress, she could garner the exact same reaction…but it wouldn’t feel the same. Instead, the dress would seem like a burden. The dress becomes a distraction, an unnecessary diversion away from what’s really important.

And what is actually important? You guessed it! Her hard chiseled muscles.

Perhaps that’s the heart of this discussion. That’s my core message. Clothing seems unnatural when placed on a female bodybuilder’s body. And not just unnatural; it seems sacrilegious. A masterpiece by Monet deserves to be viewed by millions of people at a museum, not locked away in a vault somewhere in an undisclosed underground location. A grand piano deserves to be played, as opposed to serving as a glorified piece of furniture. A novel sitting on a shelf and doing nothing is degrading. It must be read and enjoyed, not relegated as common clutter.

In the same manner, a female bodybuilder’s body needs to be seen in its entirety. And that means she must be fully nude. I’m not suggesting every single bodybuilder must be forced to strip naked and pose for pictures. Heavens no! That’s the furthest thing that I would advocate for, trust me. Rather, I’m talking about this in a metaphysical sense.

A female bodybuilder’s body is maximizing its utility (or purpose) when it’s displayed in the nude. More than being athletes, female bodybuilders are also artists. And like Michelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci before them, FBBs warrant having their handiwork displayed in a way that provides the viewer an optimal experience:

Nude. No clothing. At all. Just her beautiful body and nothing else shielding it. That’s the way she is meant to be seen. That’s the way nature intended it.

Anything else would be a disservice to all her years and years of shedding blood, sweat, and tears. Maybe I was wrong in my initial assessment that a muscular woman is always nude in public, even when she’s fully clothed. When she’s wearing clothes, she’s just like the Monet sitting in a dark vault or the masterpiece of a novel collecting dust. We’re in the presence of greatness; we just don’t know it. And this is perhaps the greatest tragedy of them all.

That being said, when she’s completely nude, our eyes aren’t the only things that become wide open. So do our minds, hearts, and souls.

All I Want for Christmas is My Own Female Bodybuilder

All I want for Christmas is Dena Westerfield!

All I want for Christmas is Dena Westerfield!

They say the holidays can be a miserable time for people who’ve recently lost loved ones or are experiencing broken relationships. For the first time in his life, Darren can empathize with this. It’s been almost three months since he and his wife decided to separate. But the pain is no less fervent today than it was when it was happening.

Thankfully, Darren’s two children are spending the Christmas weekend with him together. Tonight, they saw a performance of “The Nutcracker” by a travelling ballet company. It was marvelous. His youngest, 8-year-old Heather, fell asleep during the last hour of the performance. His oldest, 12-year-old Marcus, stayed remarkably captivated the entire time.

Who knew he’d become an enlightened patron of the arts?

Clearly, he takes after his mother.

The thought of their mother, a smart and strong-willed woman whom he met in college, spending the holidays away from her family elicits melancholy feelings inside Darren’s mind. The kids haven’t quite adjusted to the “new normal” yet. Neither has he. But as their father, he must remain resilient in the face of emotional chaos. He’s trying his best, but he knows it’s not going to be easy.

With the time nearing 10:30 in the evening, Darren, Marcus, and Heather quickly stroll back to their car in the hopes they can make it home in time for “A Charlie Brown Christmas” to air for the third or fourth time that day. But as they leave the performing arts theatre, Darren spots out of the corner of his eye a large water fountain.

“Wow, will you look at that! Isn’t that something?” Darren remarks aloud.

“Dad, can we just get home? Charlie Brown is on at 11!” Marcus pleads.

Darren reaches into his pocket and takes out a shiny new quarter. He looks at it and thinks to himself whether he should make a wish or not. He decides he should. Heather is a few hundred paces away marveling at an impressive toy train set that apparently won first prize at the city-wide Christmas decorating contest.

“Just a moment. I want to do one simple thing before we go.” Darren approaches the fountain. It’s more than twenty feet tall and features two dancing angels at top. Beethoven’s 9th Symphony plays softly in the background. Occasionally, the fountain lights up and spews ice cold water thirty feet into the air. Impressive, indeed.

Coins in a fountain.

Coins in a fountain.

“What should I wish for?” Darren quietly asks himself. Wanting to get his mind off of his impending divorce, he thinks back to his days as a teenager ogling pictures of fitness women in bodybuilding magazines. He looks around to make sure his son and daughter (not to mention complete strangers who happen to be passing by) are not within earshot. They are not. So he places the quarter between his index finger and thumb and declares out loud:

“All I want for Christmas…is my own female bodybuilder!”

Marcus watches this unusual ceremony from a distance. He sees his father toss the quarter into the water, which makes a distinct plopping sound. Satisfied, Darren turns around and walks toward the parking lot.

“Alright, let’s get going! Charlie Brown is on in twenty-five minutes!”

“Woo hoo!” Heather cheers as she runs toward their minivan.

An hour later, Darren tucks his kids into bed and pours himself a glass of chardonnay. It’s Christmas Eve, which means tomorrow morning will be the day they enthusiastically open presents. He tries not to think about what the experience will be like with Samantha not in the picture. Oh well. That’s something for all of us to discover together, whether we like it or not.

Darren drains the wine, walks upstairs, takes a quick shower, and hops into bed.

At the stroke of 1:00 in the morning, Darren suddenly awakens. There is no sound, crash, or flash of lightning that prompts him to break from his peaceful slumber. But for whatever reason, he senses there’s something happening downstairs that needs his attention.

Double trouble: Brandi Mae Akers and Yvette Bova.

Double trouble: Brandi Mae Akers and Yvette Bova.

Does the cat need to be fed? Darren is pretty sure he remembered to put food in Laila’s dish before taking his shower. He peeks into Heather’s bedroom and sees Laila curled up underneath her bed. So that can’t be it! What the heck is going on?

Cautiously, Darren creeps downstairs and finds a baseball bat sitting around his sports-themed man cave. Darren doesn’t like guns, but he understands the importance of protecting his family from harm. Once he gets to the ground floor, he peruses around the kitchen to see if the glass door has been opened. It’s not.

“What the hell am I doing down here? I’m being paranoid…” he mutters.

Just then, Darren hears what sounds like paper rustling in the living room. He glides toward the location of the abrupt noise with the baseball bat perched over his left shoulder. Like a ninja stalking an unsuspecting victim, he switches on the light and looks around the room.

“Hello, darling,” a sensual voice calls out.

It takes a moment for Darren’s eyes to adjust to the light, but when they do he sees a surprising sight that makes him drop the baseball bat to the floor.

Lying on the ground underneath the Christmas tree is a gorgeous naked muscular woman.

“Uh, what the fuck is happening here? Who the hell are you?” Darren demands.

The woman remains on the floor, massaging her enormous calves against a candy cane dangling from a low-hanging tree branch. While shocked that a complete stranger would mysteriously find her way into his house, Darren feels an uncontrollable spark of sexual desire rise up inside him.

Sensually and like a hazy dream, the woman stands up and approaches Darren. Sure enough, she’s as ripped as any woman he’s ever seen. Standing at a modest 5’6”, the woman is covered from head to toe with large bulging muscles. Her chest as wide as a truck, shoulders as broad as a cruise ship, arms as thick as coconuts, and legs as round as watermelons, she’s incredibly muscular but gorgeous and feminine at the same time. Her breasts are flat, but nothing else about her could be described that way. Darren looks down at her clit and nearly suffers cardiac arrest from regarding its sheer size.

“I’m your wish. That’s who I am,” the woman responds.

“My wish?” Darren asks. He’s asking himself this question just as much as he’s asking her.

“Yes. You remember the wish you made at the water fountain? I’m your wish incarnate. I’m not real, but for the next hour I will be as real as chestnuts roasting on an open fire.” The woman sashays around the living room and flexes her gigantic muscles for him. Double biceps. Abs. Side pose. Hamstrings. She then flexes her glutes up and down, prompting Darren to collapse on the couch. What the fuck is this? Is this real?

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“My name is Morgan.”

Darren sits up straight and removes his old high school debate team tee-shirt. Morgan smirks at his impulsive decision to not ask questions and just go with the flow.

“Well, Morgan,” he begins. “Let’s not waste a single moment, shall we?”

He stands up and kisses Morgan on the lips. He reaches down and feels her rock hard body. Morgan squats down and pulls his underwear toward his ankles. As nude as she is, Darren caresses her firm butt as she stands back up. The feeling of her sturdy glutes is enough to wake up his manhood. The Mystery Woman notices this, squats back down, and covers him with her mouth.

May I unwrap Denise Masino now?

May I unwrap Denise Masino now?

“Oh, baby…the things you do to me…”

A gentle snowfall commences outside the comfortable confines of the crispy household. It hasn’t snowed in this area in fifteen years. Yet Darren doesn’t notice this historic feat. He’s too busy feeling up Morgan’s rock hard pecs to give a damn about what’s happening outdoors.

Morgan licks the underside of Darren’s penis as she continues to deep throat him. Not wanting to burst too soon, Darren gently moves his pelvis away from her face and wrestles her to the ground.

“You want to play rough? I can do that!” Morgan declares.

She grabs Darren’s wrists and pins him to the floor. His erect manhood pokes her in the belly. He swears he can feel the tip of his penis brush between the grooves of her six-pack abdomen. A soft moan escapes from his throat. Morgan then wraps her strong arms around him and gives him a powerful bear hug that pushes all the air out of his lungs. Unable to breathe, Morgan interlocks her strong legs around Darren’s legs and squeezes tightly. He struggles to catch his breath but is helplessly distracted by the feeling of her bowling ball calves pressed against his ankles.

“Do you like that?” Morgan asks. Darren mumbles something unintelligible. “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you!”

Morgan cackles and mercifully releases Darren from her oppressive embrace. She carelessly tosses him to the side like a rag doll and sits up against the couch. Darren rolls around for a bit and tries to catch his breath. He smiles and immediately stands up and picks her up off the floor.

“My turn to be in charge!”

A much stronger fellow than you’d expect, Darren slings Morgan over his right shoulder and slaps her on the butt. Her muscular glutes jiggle wildly in response. Morgan giggles in return.

Never in his life has Darren ever carried a woman who weighs so much. It’s definitely true that muscle weighs more than fat! He walks over to the far side of the living room and lays her down on top of a fluffy white shag rug. Morgan doesn’t resist. He wants to be on top and to end this the right way. Darren smooths his hands over Morgan’s tree trunk thighs and admires her gorgeous muscular physique.

“Oh my God. So beautiful. You’re huge and strong and absolutely gorgeous,” he says. Morgan suggestively opens her legs out wide and exposes her freakishly large clitoris. Darren gasps and nearly falls backward. Even though he’s seen it before, the shock of seeing it again doesn’t change his reaction one bit.

“Holy shit. It’s so big. So damn big.”

Morgan pinches her engorged endowment with her fingers and strokes it up and down. Initial waves of pleasure sweep through her body. Darren has moved on to caressing her calves but has not stopped staring at her enormous clit. Is it possible for a woman’s clit to get that large?

“Enough of this. Go ahead. Take a closer look!” Morgan stops stroking herself and enjoys the feeling of the soft rug tickling her hard leathery skin. Taking the hint, Darren gets down on his belly and inspects her impossibly large clit. Resembling a very little penis, Darren licks the sensitive head with a soft flick of his tongue. Morgan lets out an audible moan.

Tina Nguyen in triplicate.

Tina Nguyen in triplicate.

Empowered to go further, Darren encloses his lips around her erect shaft and sucks with delight. Morgan pinches her own nipples to enhance her experience. Her eyes closed, she wiggles on the floor with delight as Darren orally please her. Darren, meanwhile, doesn’t care if his kids can hear them fooling around next to the Christmas tree. As far as he’s concerned, Christmas has come early, no pun intended.

“Oooooohhhhhh, that’s it baby. That’s the way mama likes it…”

He knows she’s close by the sudden jerking of her pelvis. But he doesn’t stop and relentlessly presses his lips securely around her clit as he moves his head back and forth.

“Fuuuuuuccckkkkkkk!” Morgan screams at the top of her lungs.

Morgan comes, shockwaves of pleasure screaming throughout her entire body. She groans and keeps her eyes closed. Darren’s mouth is exhausted but he doesn’t relent until she stops writhing.

A brief moment later, Morgan opens her eyes and attacks Darren’s mouth by kissing him deeper than he’s ever been kissed before. She can taste her own juices dripping from his upper lip. Darren’s erection is now resting on top of Morgan’s left kneecap. She pushes her tongue inside his mouth and invades him. He counters by wrestling his tongue against hers. Having regained her concentration, Morgan pushes Darren backward and jumps on top of him.

“You just pleased me, now I’m going to please you.” Not complaining one bit, Darren lifts up her small breasts and lightly pinches her erect nipples. Methodically, Morgan lowers herself over his erection and allows him to penetrate her. Now, it’s Darren’s turn to moan. Like a cowgirl riding her prized stallion, Morgan bounces up and down with reckless abandon. Darren wants to keep his eyes focused on her pretty face but cannot. He shuts his eyelids tightly as she rides him with delight.

The snowfall outside is still going strong, even though Darren senses he won’t last nearly as long. Morgan deliberately moves up and down him by positioning her strong legs in a power squat stance. He knows he’s going to come. She also knows that she’s about to come again.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Morgan whispers to the Heavens.

“Ahhh, yeah!” Darren groans and empties himself into her. Morgan climaxes for the second time and rides him until her orgasm subsides completely. She falls on top of him and listens to his heart beating rapidly. Darren licks her bicep peak. She flexes to make sure it gets as hard as humanly possible. He removes his limp penis from her vagina and kisses her chest. Before he could suck on her nipples, Darren hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

Who wouldn't want to find a gorgeous female bodybuilder underneath your Christmas tree?

Who wouldn’t want to find a gorgeous female bodybuilder underneath your Christmas tree?

“Oh no!” Darren looks up to see if his two kids have been woken up by their noisy coupling and are rushing downstairs to investigate. But Morgan puts a stop to that nonsense and turns his head toward her face. She looks deeply into his eyes and kisses him on the cheek.

“It’s time to open presents,” she says. Suddenly, Darren wakes up and finds Heather, Marcus, and the cat jumping on his bed. He looks at his bedside clock and sees the time is 8:45 in the morning.

“Daddy! I said it’s time to open presents! Come on!” Heather leaps from the bed and races downstairs toward the Christmas tree. Marcus and the feline follow suit. Darren, groggy and still sleepy, sits up and looks out the window. Much to his surprise, he sees a remarkably burly woman dressed in a winter parka approaching his doorstep.

Darren gets out of bed and takes a closer look out the window. He wipes the fog on the glass with his sleeve. His eyes almost pop out of his skull once he realizes who it is.

“Oh my God!”

The unexpected visitor strikes an uncanny resemblance to the mysteriously sexy Morgan character from his dream. As if knowing she was being watched from above, she peers up, smiles at him, and knocks on the door.

Why We Love Watching a Muscular Woman Masturbate

Look at the biceps of Gillian Ward!

Look at the biceps of Gillian Ward!

There are many activities muscular women do that female muscle enthusiasts love to watch.

Lifting at the gym. Wrestling a hapless opponent into submission. Dominating a weaker man both physically and psychologically. Pumping their clit. Posing for the camera. Talking about her daily routine, best lifts, sex life, etc.

But there is one activity that’s especially compelling, one that deserves special recognition. It’s an activity we all do, although we may not want to necessarily admit it out loud.

We love watching muscular women masturbate.

There’s no denying this. The category of porn known as “solo performance” has much mainstream appeal, whether it features muscular women or “normal” looking women. But it holds special weight among the crowd who loves female bodybuilders. When a female bodybuilder masturbates, we love watching it not just because it turns us on, but because it provides us much needed emotional catharsis.

Think this is a bit of a stretch? Read on.

We all have our masturbation stories. When we first discovered it, when our parents “caught” us doing it, when it came in handy (no pun intended) after a stressful day, ways we’ve improved in doing it after much trial and error, and so on. We were all teenagers at one point, right?

But it doesn’t end after the gloriously awkward days of middle school. No, not by a long shot. Unless we’re a modern day Casanova, most of us do not receive the amount of sexual pleasure from a partner (or multiple partners, depending on who you are) that adequately satisfies our appetites. Many of us need to “release” our built-up tension in other ways. Hence, we do the job ourselves.

Woody Allen is right that we shouldn’t knock on masturbation as a bad thing. After all, it’s sex with someone we love. That’s a win-win in my book.

As a matter of pornography, masturbation is just as titillating an activity to watch as traditional – and non-traditional – sex can be. I don’t have exact statistics in front of me, but I’d be willing to bet that at least 15 percent of porn videos out there on the Internet have at least some elements of “solo performance” attached to it. I’ve seen videos of two people (one man and one woman) masturbating next to each other. They never have actual intercourse together. They just get themselves off with the other person in close proximity. I didn’t find this video particularly appealing, but as they say, different strokes for different folks.

Pun intended? You better believe it.

Returning to our original subject, there’s a huge difference between watching a pretty skinny girl masturbate for the camera and a big, beautiful and powerful female bodybuilder doing the same thing. Both performers will provide their audience the expected dosage of over-the-top fake moans and cheesy convulsing, but the latter carries with her a high degree of interesting context that the former does not.

Lisa Cross is not afraid to show off her assets for the camera.

Lisa Cross is not afraid to show off her assets for the camera.

When a woman masturbates for the camera, the obvious purpose is to sexually excite the viewer. That’s without a doubt reason #1. Yes, she may have exhibitionist motivations behind her, but by and large her performance is for entertainment purposes. Some people may find it more entertaining than others, but that’s beside the point. That being said, when a female bodybuilder gets off in front of the camera, it triggers inside us a whole host of thoughts, feelings, and opinions.

First, we associate masturbation as being the ultimate act of independence. It is, in a literal sense, having sex with yourself. When an FBB masturbates, it reaffirms her devotion to being a strong, independent woman. She’s perfectly able to please herself, thank you very much. It’s not that she doesn’t need a man or woman to please her (let’s face it, many FBBs are also lesbians), rather she knows her body better than anyone else.

Bodybuilders are by their very nature more in-tuned with their bodies than anyone else. It makes perfect sense. They spend years of their lives hyper-focusing on every single square inch of their bodies to ensure it meets their strict definition of “perfection.” This is no small task. So who is best qualified to give their bodies pleasure? That’s right. Themselves.

We love female bodybuilders because they defy so many perceptions we hold about men, women, and male/female relations.  They’re stronger than most men despite women being naturally weaker than men. They’re headstrong, fiercely independent, and refuse to accept the status quo as being adequate. They aren’t women who claim to be strong. They’re women who actually are strong, both physically and emotionally.

Anybody can write a Facebook post claiming to be determined to pursue their dreams. Female bodybuilders, on the other hand, expend blood, sweat, and tears every single day to make their dreams come true. They live out their dreams so that it’s not really a dream, but reality itself.

Can't get enough of Kathy Johansson. Can you?

Can’t get enough of Kathy Johansson. Can you?

This spirit of individual determination mirrors the act of masturbation. Assuming we take a more positive attitude toward masturbation (have you noticed that a man who masturbates is considered a “loser” while a woman who masturbates is considered “liberated?”), watching a female bodybuilder get herself off is just one other example of her taking control of her own life. Her resolve to build up the biggest and brawniest body possible goes hand-in-hand with the desire to take her sexuality into her own hands (literally and figuratively).

When we watch a female bodybuilder pleasure herself with a dildo, vibrator or her own fingers, we’re seeing her display an act of independence that is a natural continuation of the independence she displays in every other facet of her life. Her unique diet, personalized workout regimen, and unorthodox lifestyle separate her from the herd. Her ability to give herself pleasure goes along those same tracks.

Second, we see masturbation as an act of a female bodybuilder rewarding herself for being who she is.

I don’t need to rehash the idea that being a competitive (or a dedicated non-competitive) bodybuilder is very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very difficult thing to do. Male or female, the life of a bodybuilder is without debate a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very difficult thing to do.

Uh, did I mention it’s a very difficult thing to do?

A female bodybuilder makes sacrifices that very few of us would also be willing to do. I’m sure there are days (and perhaps weeks on end) when an FBB really doesn’t want to go to the gym and lift. Her joints hurt. Her muscles are sore. Her back is stiff. Her stomach hurts from eating the same food over and over again and in such large quantities. She’s sick and tired of drinking so much damn water. All she wants to do is open a bottle of beer, order a take-out pizza, and sit on the couch and watch Netflix all day.

But that won’t get her one step closer to placing 1st at the upcoming competition. That won’t allow her body to remain in a condition that her fans expect. Doing that will be bad for business, because these days female bodybuilders have to think of themselves as a one-woman business.

Instead, she has to suck it up and do what’s necessary to keep making gains at the gym and keeping her body in top shape. Her body wants to quit, but her mind must refuse to let that happen.

Abby Marie showing off her impressive set of abdominal muscles.

Abby Marie showing off her impressive set of abdominal muscles.

That attitude requires a level of mental fortitude that not too many of us possess. We all know that it’s easier for men to develop muscle mass than women. So when a woman achieves muscle mass that surpasses that of a man, we know that’s a supremely impressive accomplishment. We cannot imagine how much sacrifice it takes to get to that point. This is why as fans of female bodybuilders we feel a psychological need to “reward” them for their sacrifices.

If we cannot actually reward these women – through gifts, paying hundreds of dollars for a muscle worship session, purchasing their merchandise, or buying tickets to one of their contests – we need an alternate route instead. Watching them masturbate for the camera is, in a weird sense, a surrogate means of “rewarding” them. When we see a strong muscular woman experience a satisfying orgasm (assuming she’s not “acting” for the camera), we experience cathartic release.

Female muscle fans enjoy a body type that is both rare and tremendously difficult to achieve. It’s easy for us to feel guilty about loving muscular women when we know they don’t owe us anything. Female bodybuilders don’t owe us a damn thing. They don’t have to share free photos of themselves on the Internet. They don’t have to produce videos that are easily found by a simple Google search. They don’t have to make their Instagram and social media accounts open to the public. They don’t have to offer muscle worship and wrestling sessions to anybody who’s willing to pay. They don’t have to do any of those things. But they choose to do so anyway.

So when female bodybuilders do allow people like us to enjoy the fruits of their labor, we feel like we’re not worthy, just as Wayne and Garth weren’t worthy of meeting Aerosmith in their basement. We feel a small amount of guilt, as if we’re getting away with something. It seems almost criminal that photos and videos of Gorgeous Muscle Goddesses are available for free on the Internet. That seems rude. In the back of our minds, we feel like access to these women’s bodies should be safeguarded like the codes to our nuclear arsenal.

Like ancient tribes who made sacrifices to the benevolent gods for providing a bountiful harvest, female muscle fans feel like we must provide our beloved Muscle Goddesses a ritual sacrifice as well. Most of us aren’t able or willing to provide an actual monetary gift, so we do the next best thing: We enjoy watching them give themselves sexual pleasure.

When a female bodybuilder reaches the climax of a self-induced orgasm, we feel like she’s receiving the reward she deserves for being who she is. As voyeurs watching this exhibition of sexual self-actualization, we receive emotional comfort knowing her hard work is being given its due. Even watching a female bodybuilder have sex with another person (man or woman, it doesn’t matter) carries the same effect. Anytime an FBB experiences an orgasm, it’s a ritual emotional cleansing for us. We can now continue to enjoy her muscles without any feelings of guilt. She’s happy and satisfied. She’s glowing. She’s purring like a kitten. She’s experienced pleasure. She’s been erotically satiated. And we love that she’s able to experience this. Because damn it, she deserves it.

Alas, no good deed goes unrewarded. There is justice in the universe. Huzzah!

Third, we view a female bodybuilder masturbating as an act of defiance. Too often female bodybuilders face jeers, insults, and rude remarks from mean spirited and ignorant people. People will say hurtful and sexist things about them over the web or worse, to their faces. It sucks. It’s disgusting. It makes us angry. As fans of female bodybuilders, we feel defensive toward the strong women we love. It’s almost tribalist, as if an attack on her is an attack on all of us. We know that’s not technically true, but it sure feels that way.

If I ever saw Colette Nelson wearing a dress like that in public, I should not be held legally responsible for my actions!

If I ever saw Colette Nelson wearing a dress like that in public, I should not be held legally responsible for my actions!

One common insult hurled toward female bodybuilders is that they’re not actually women. They’re either men, wish to be men, or are freaks of nature whose gender identity cannot be properly diagnosed. Her sexuality is brutally deconstructed, minimalized, marginalized, and trivialized. Her femininity is brought into question. Our masculinity (assuming you’re a man) is also brought into question.

She’s treated like a freak, in summary. She’s not human. She’s repulsive. She’s a betrayal to womanhood. Heck, she’s a betrayal to manhood as well. People out there think she deserves scorn because she defies our common perceptions of “what a woman is supposed to look like.”

It’s enough to make my blood boil. I’m sure many of you know what I’m talking about.

However, when a female bodybuilder masturbates, she’s openly defying these insults and is taking control of her sexuality. She’s proving she’s not a freak, but rather an exceptional example of the potential of human achievement. She has a vagina, and is willing to spread her legs out wide to prove it. Her clitoris isn’t a small penis, but a clitoris that’s really damn big. Period. She doesn’t need a man to please her. She doesn’t need to gain anyone’s approval. She is perfectly able to live a fulfilling life regardless of the vitriol thrown her way. For her, masturbation is not just an act of defiance, but a total beat down of all the negative stereotypes thrust upon her.

When we watch a female bodybuilder masturbate, we feel like we’re watching a show of protest. We’re watching a female bodybuilder not just reaffirm her right to enjoy pleasure, but giving permission to other women (whether they’re muscular or not) to do the same. If she can unapologetically give herself an orgasm, you can too. Regardless of what her critics will say, she doesn’t give two shits about them. She’s going to fuck herself with a dildo no matter what. She’s going to moan, groan, scream, and squirm to her heart’s delight.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop her.

Indeed, watching a muscular woman masturbate isn’t just a simple act of erotic voyeurism. It’s almost like a religious experience. Or if you’re not spiritually inclined, it’s cathartic. As she’s experiencing sexual release, we’re experiencing emotional release. We may not know it but that’s exactly what’s going on in our minds.

I realize it’s a cliché to refer to an independent woman as being “liberated,” but that’s not far from the truth. Being free means being able and willing to forge your own path. Perhaps that’s at the heart of the matter. It’s one thing to be able to pursue bodybuilding. It’s quite another to be willing to go through the daily grind year after year after year. A so-called “liberated” woman is free from two things: Obstacles created by society at large and obstacles created in her own mind.

I’m a big believer that the most significant hurdles any of us will ever face in our lives aren’t created by other people, but instead are created by ourselves. We are our own worst enemy. The moment we tell ourselves that we’re going to fail, we’re inevitably going to fail. We can blame outside forces all we want, but at the end of the day our lives are controlled by one person and one person only: Us.

We hold the keys to success. We’re the drivers of our own cars. We lay down the bricks to our own sidewalks. We build the doors that lead to our own success. Once we accept that we can take life by the horns and run with it, there’s no stopping what we can do.

When a muscular woman masturbates, she’s doing that in a literal sense.

She decides how, when, and who can please her. If it’s herself, so be it. If it’s someone else, fantastic. If it’s a combination of both, great. Regardless, she dictates the terms of her own life. Just as she’s sculpting her body to look a certain way, she’s also demonstrating her erotic autonomy. As fans, we cannot get enough of this. As fans, we’re rooting for her to masturbate as often as she wants to. We want her to climax as many times as she desires. Watching this happen isn’t just arousing, it’s a purging of our pent-up frustrations about being a female muscle fan.

Didn’t think watching an FBB give a “solo performance” carried that much weight, did you? That’s the beauty of being a fan of muscular women. No matter how many layers you dig through, you’re always going to find more topics to talk about. The onion goes on forever and ever. Let us keep this conversation going, shall we? For the sake of the muscular women we love, it’s the least we can do.

So keep on masturbating, muscular women everywhere! You know you have a small army of dedicated fans who are in your corner, rooting for you like mad.