Revelation

I had been working on a film project for some time when Melanie joined the production as a camera operator.

It was summer and as soon as she walked on set my femuscle radar picked her up. She was wearing a sleeveless top which showed off her arms and shoulders. I was transfixed, and she noticed immediately.

She hoisted a camera one-handed onto its stand, her arm muscles rippling. She locked it into position and turned and winked. Then she flexed her arm and turned around and got back to work.

I looked behind me. There was no one. The wink and flex had been for my benefit. Was I so obvious?

Clearly I was. For the next two weeks Melanie didn't miss a trick when it came to me. Although we didn't have much direct contact due to our different roles on the film, she would surreptitiously flex whenever she caught me ogling her while she worked, always wearing a sleveless top that displayed her musculature.

When the production wrapped we had the customary cast and crew party. Melanie had got a lot of attention from both males and females during the shoot, and it almost seemed like the party became a queue to dance, speak or drink with her, so there was frustratingly little opportunity for me to get close to her.

As I came back from the toilet though I saw her coming towards me. She smiled and pointed to her bicep which she then proceeded to flex. I was helpless. She'd immobilised me with a single movement of her arm. My whole being was focused on that muscle.

Almost before I realised what was happening she had grabbed me and pushed me into the ladies, then again into a cubicle. She shut and bolted the door. She had me trapped.

She forced me down onto the seat and stood before me. Not a word had been said. Then she flexed her arm again right in front of my face. Her other hand pushed my head forward towards it. I started to kiss it, and let out a gentle moan as I felt it against my tongue. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and put a finger to my lips.

'No sound,' she whispered, and lowered my head back to her arm. My muscle lust rose as never before as I began to trace her bicep vein with my tongue. She exhaled and I felt her shiver. I closed my eyes and bit down gently onto the muscle. I felt her shiver again and reached my hand up under her dress and between her legs.

It was her turn to moan. I could feel her wetness through her panties. With my other hand I reached up. She was so lean there was no mistaking the ridges of muscle there. Simultaneously I explored her abs and her pussy as I sucked and kissed her bicep.

Her hand ran through my hair and she moaned gently again.

'No sound,' I whispered, and pulled the crotch of her panties up into her pussy. She gasped.

Inside her top I had reached up to her chest. There was no bra between my fingers and her hard pecs. Her nipples were like bullets as they responded to my touch.

Then her hand was behind my head again, forcing me down off the seat and towards her pussy. I kneeled before her. She lifted up her dress over my upturned face and straddled me. I was close enough to taste her with my tongue, but I was going to take my time and just breathed out sharply. She gasped again and pushed herself against my mouth. My hands reached up onto her abs again as I began to lap her dripping quim. She shivered again.

I freed her clit and worked it slowly with my tongue. Her abs tensed beneath my touch, her juices flowed onto my face as she moaned again.

Every atom of my being was focused on one task, pleasuring this muscle goddess. Despite my arousal, despite the sensory overload, I felt a sense of peace, of oneness. I'd found the thing I was born to do.

A Happy Accident

She normally gets a Brazilian, but the girl in the shop thought she'd asked for a Hollywood.

'Before I knew what was happening, it was all gone.'

Brazil, Hollywood. It's all good.

Hell Hath No Fury

I am not proud of what happened with Jenny.

We were introduced by one of my friend's girlfriend, I think as one of those 'Wouldn't it be nice if your friend and my friend were together?' scenarios that some girls can't get enough of. Anyway, I thought she was fun, we got drunk, we spent the night together, and then I let things get a little out of hand.

She wasn't my type, physically. But I guess I was going through a barren patch at the time and I was enjoying the attention a little too much.

When my friend reported that Jenny had been gushing about me to his girlfriend I knew I had to end it, but like the coward I am that just translated into not returning her phone calls. Unwise.

She found out where I was one night, turned up and in front of everyone, demanded to know why I was being such a prick. After calming her down I took her outside and told her straight that she wasn't the kind of girl I wanted to be with. Physically.

'I just prefer girls who are in shape. I'm sorry, but I like girls with muscles.'

She left without a word, and I thought that was the end of it.

Six months later, I receive a message from Jenny with a picture attached. A picture of her. She'd been working out. And there was a message:

'Thanks for getting me interested in the gym. I seem to be making fast progress. I'll keep you updated in the future so you can see what you could have had.'

Jesus!

And in the months that followed, more pictures. Each time she looked better, more muscular, more defined, and less dressed.

This is the most recent.

And the note that came with it told me how much she's enjoying her new body. How having such power over men makes her feel like a goddess. It's improved everything in her life. She's more confident at work, so she's succeeding there. Oh, and her love life has never been better. And it's all thanks to me.

Great. My pleasure.

Shit.

Farah Malhass

From Jordan, Farah is a rare thing, an Arab female bodybuilder

Check out an interview with her on the links page

For everything else, there's Mastercard

Being kissed by Debbie Bramwell. Priceless.

The Right Kind of Guy

I was introduced to Kim at a party. Her arms were covered but she looked in good shape so I was attracted, and thought she was too. She didn't waste any time letting me know.

'I like your arms,' she said, giving my bicep a squeeze. 'How do you feel about girls with muscles?'

Before I could reply she flexed her arm. 'I've checked out yours, now you check out mine.'

She was hard. My female muscle lust started to rise.

'That's fucking hot,' I said. 'I do hope you're single.'

'No, I'm not.' My heart sank.

'But...' she squeezed my bicep again. 'I'm not averse to a bit of fun either. With the right kind of guy.'

It wasn't long before we were being quietly naughty in the back of a cab on the way back to hers. While we'd been waiting for it, she'd told me she wanted to flex her muscles in the cab, to have me touch and squeeze them while maintaining the appearance of a normal conversation to the cab driver. I was finding it a real turn-on. How else would I react?

As she'd said at the party, she was up for anything with 'the right kind of guy'. That turned out to be someone who really wanted to appreciate her muscles. Her boyfriend, she'd explained, obviously loved her body, but he wasn't really into muscle worship and though he would do it to please her, it always felt better with someone whose heart was really in it. The problem was, she'd found that most guys who were into it were rather weedy, insular guys who lacked confidence, whereas she liked men who were in shape, confident and independent.

'I'd rather be worshipped by a man many women would want.'

She pushed me onto her sofa.

'Wait there.'

I chopped out a couple of lines, did mine and looked around the room. On the wall was a framed photo of her and her boyfriend. She was flexing in it. He looked rich. I was going to enjoy this.

'In here!'

I followed her voice into the hall, then a light that was on in the room at the end of the corridor.

As I entered I saw her body for the first time. She was standing, hands on hips, on the bed so I was looking up at her. She was naked and had focused the light directly onto her. Her olive skin covered a beautifully-proportioned and deliciously muscular frame.

'I want to see if I can make you hard just flexing my muscles. Take off your clothes but do NOT touch your cock.'

By the time I'd pulled my Calvin's down I was hard as a rock and she hadn't flexed once.

'Looks like you're the right type of guy,' she said.

What?

What in the name of Colette Nelson's pecs was happening here?

Answers on a postcard, please.

(Great calves!)

His New Flatmate

Jim, my dealer, always rents out his spare room out to young, attractive foreign ladies, reasoning that if he's going to have someone living in his flat, they might as well be good to look at.

I've told Jim about my preference for fit, muscular women, but when he told me that the new one would be 'right up my street', I didn't expect him to be right, because although Jim knows about my preference for fit, muscular women, I don't think he really understands how fit and muscular I like them to be.

I find this is quite a common thing actually. A lot of my friends have the idea that when I say 'muscular' I mean Jessica Biel, when I actually mean Andrea Thiel. Maybe they don't WANT to imagine that I'm attracted to that much muscle. However, I digress...

When I arrived and Jim had rolled up a sample of his new gear, he passed me the doobage with a big smile.

'You're really going to like her, man. Guess where she is now?'

'At the gym?' I guessed, hopefully.

'Yeah! I TOLD you you're going to like her!'

And she was at the gym for quite a while. We were both quite toasted by the time we heard her key in the door.

Jim flashed me a devilish look.

'Milena! Come meet my friend Ed.'

Wearing a big, warm jacket, she came in and said hello, and I liked the smile she gave me as she shook my hand.

'I can smell this outside,' she said as Jim passed her the j. She took a big toke and passed it on to me. I was liking her already.

'Listen,' said Jim. 'Now Milena's here to protect my stash from your thieving hands, I'm going to pop out and get some beer.'

As Jim left, Milena giggled. 'Pop out! I like English phrasal verbs but they are so difficult. Your language is so funny. Pop out is to the shops. Pop in is visit. Pop off is farting! Very confusing for me.'

'And you can also pop your bicep,' I said, demonstrating for her.

'This I did not know,' she said, unzipping her jacket to reveal only a sports bra underneath. Her abs were cut. Even if I hadn't been stoned, I would have stared at them.

She giggled again. 'You like?' And she flexed them.

I was speechless.

'This means yes?'

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on her stomach muscles.

She took her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. She was gorgeous, and had muscles and definition all over. Jim had been right. I was in love.

'So now I pop my bicep so to remember meaning.'

And she did. Again and again and again.

Over the course of the evening I taught her a lot of words connected with the body.

A message from 2050

In the early twenty-first century more and more women were pumping iron, but the lack of available prize money coupled with constantly changing judging criteria meant that official female bodybuilding contests all but disappeared.

The online audience for muscular women, however, continued to grow.

Consequently, the sport went underground. Basement clubs became venues for unregulated female muscle contests, packed to the rafters with drooling muscle worshippers, the winners chosen by audience vote rather than judges.

The rising popularity of these contests led to bigger and bigger venues, the competitors performing more and more outrageous routines to win the prizes. Gradually, the posing suit became redundant and the competitors flexed in all their glory, fulfilling the fantasies of their adoring fans.

Now, in 2050, the sport has never been more popular. The basement shows are still thriving, but the top contests are beamed around the world and the top female bodybuilders are media celebrities. Men desire them, women desire to be them, and they can finally earn the kind of money their dedication deserves.

So it begins

If my experience is anything to go by, the little fella with the ice-cream has just begun a lifelong obsession with muscular women.

My first sighting sealed my fate, I reckon. My year zero was seeing Carolyn Cheshire on British TV. One look and I was hooked.

Is this how it always begins?

Power and wisdom in the East

On a trip to China last year I saw for myself how the country is flexing its economic muscles, but little did I expect to see some female muscle flexing too.

So as our group assembled for another excursion I was delighted to find our guide for the day was this lady, He Yi.

Needless to say, I don't remember much about that day trip except He Yi's magnificent body. Eventually, I plucked up the courage to ask if she wouldn't mind being in some of my photos 'to give them scale'.

'Just for scale?' she replied with a wink. 'I think you like more than just for scale, no? I think this is what you like from me.' And with that, she began to flex.

Back at the hotel, I asked if she would like to join me for dinner.

She smiled. 'Just dinner you want with me? When you going to say really what you want instead of telling lies? I see you tomorrow for new excursion.' She patted my cheek and left, chuckling to herself.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink that night as my mind raced with all kinds of sick thoughts about what I'd like her to do with me. But in the morning, as our group assembled, we were greeted by our usual guide. There was no sign of He Yi.

Perhaps I dreamt her. But I vowed that in future if I wanted a picture of a woman's muscles, I'd be up front about it.

Ah, the wisdom one finds in the East.

Roseanne

Roseanne Desmarais (Blackburn) 1975-2010

Posteriority

I have to admit, and I'm almost ashamed to say it, that the main reason I workout is that the gym is the one place you can guarantee a fix of tight, toned bodies. I'm not above a good ogle between sets, all those mirrors do come in handy when checking out the gym bunnies, don't they?

No idea what I'm taking about? Yeah, right!

Myriam is one of the reasons I go to the gym I go to and the only reason I go there on Monday evenings. She is one of those rare ladies who has some real muscle on her.

Though we've been acknowledging each other for quite a while, we only started talking recently, so I was a little surprised when she asked if I wouldn't mind taking a picture of her back so she could better assess her own symmetry.

Would I mind? Errrr, no.

I must say I found it rather difficult not to shake as I held the camera and zoomed in on her ripped muscular back, but I managed to take a couple of OK shots. It got much much harder (and I don't just mean holding the camera) when she started pulling down her trousers and panties and asked me to take one of her glutes as well.

Dear reader, I don't mind telling you I was in heaven when she flexed her butt, but I pulled myself back down to Earth and didn't forget to ask her to send me a copy of the pic for posterity.

With a naughty smile, she looked back at me over her shoulder.

'You're a cheeky one, aren't you?'

'That makes two of us,' I replied.

Click.

What would YOU do...

... if you were standing next to a dolled-up and flexing Alina Popa?

I think this guy is holding himself together pretty well, nonchanlantly glancing at her while giving the impression that her bicep is only slightly more interesting than the notes he's reading.

I doubt I'd look so cool. I'd certainly be shaking with excitement. Could I resist the urge to just reach out and give it a squeeze? No doubt a certain part of my body would be getting bigger and my attempts to hide it would be both futile and ridiculous . Possibly I'd fall to my knees and blurt out 'Oh, Alina, I love you. Let me worship you forever.' Or perhaps the intensity of it all would mean that I'd just pass out on the spot.

Anyway, kudos to the dude in the picture for a) being at a party with Alina Popa and b) playing it cool.

Unless of course his head exploded the moment after this picture was taken.

Body Beautiful

Walking along the front, my femuscle radar detected this muscle babe proudly flaunting her chiselled body. Never backwards in being forwards with buff ladies, I asked for a photo.

'I'd be delighted,' she said. 'It's always nice to be appreciated.'

After I'd taken a few snaps she asked if I'd like to help her out with her sun lotion. I didn't have to think twice about that.

Later I discovered I'd inadvertently also captured the distinctly out of shape lady in the background. I imagine she's thinking it must be great to be muscular and sexy, to have guys stop you and ask for a photo of your body. She's thinking what power over men a body like that must give you. And aren't those female bodybuilders supposed to have over-developed clits? The orgasms they must have! If I looked like that, she's thinking, I'd flick myself off in front of the mirror every morning. Then I'd get my lazy ass husband to worship my muscles.

Or something.

Staying In A Lot These Days

She's been working on her abs for months. Hours in the gym, eating right, maintaining discipline in the face of temptation. Finally her six-pack has emerged, and she can't stop looking at herself.

We had a party to go to last night, but never made it out the door. She'd been in the bathroom for over an hour when I went to find out what was up. I found her staring at her abs.

'Do you like them, baby? Do you wanna touch them?'

How could I refuse? The party was probably boring anyway.