Thursday, 30 September 2010
Monday, 27 September 2010
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.
'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!)
Answers on a postcard, please.
(Great calves!)
Sunday, 26 September 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
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.
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.
Friday, 24 September 2010
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?
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?
Thursday, 23 September 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Tuesday, 21 September 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.
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.
Monday, 20 September 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
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.
'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.
Saturday, 18 September 2010
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.
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.
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