Photo with 9 notes
Two things. First of all this is my first story after a long hiatus. Hope I’m back with some regularity. Secondly this story is inspired and is a homage to a very Real person. A muscular Goddess, Shereen Fons who is indeed a Goddess. Of course this is a work of fantasy. Thank you for the privilege of our digital acquaintance Shereen. This is for You.
Just two words on the image she has emailed me.
I see the image on my computer screen
Why has She sent it? What is Her riddle?
(And now the capitalization in my mind’s eye does not escape me: ’Her riddle and not ‘her riddle’ . I do not normally consider myself a subservient, a bottom, but She has taken hold of my soul over the past month in such a way that I think of Her in these terms, I realize. It feels natural. Correct.)
I’ll try and go beyond my body’s -my Being’s- immediate response to the image.
I am of course aroused.
This is hardly novel.
But why has She sent this?
Nothing is random with Her. Nothing.
This is a riddle I must solve before I meet Her.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
You rightly wonder who She is.
Let me attempt to describe.
I find muscular women extremely attractive.
I always have.
But She is more than that.
I saw Her on the web.
Adored and Worshiped by a multitude. (A harem? Yes.)
It intrigued me. I met Her digitally.
Then via Skype.
I was lost. Completely.
She is a force of nature.
Raw power coiled. Controlled. Power beyond dreams.
Shaming men at feats of strength without even acknowledging them.
Her legs seem tectonic. Muscular Pillars.
Her back is titanic. Atlantean. Capable of lifting me as if I weigh nothing. I will weigh nothing. She will wear me upon herself and I will not even register on Her consciousness.
(Is this the conundrum? Do I fear that She will consume me? Her passion and Power certainly can consume me almost as an afterthought. )
Her presence is feline, yet with the heaviness of large cats, like an evolved predator.
There’s a solidity in Her.
Her Arms are Strong.
I do not mean simply visually impressive. Not the often hollow chiseling of bodybuilding (though it ranks highly there. Highly at the very least).
Her musculature, Her Power is… functional.
She negotiates life in Her own terms redefining limits in everyone around Her.
You cannot escape Her gravitational pull.
Her very presence makes one question his masculinity. Her Power almost accidentally exudes Sexual attraction.
You measure and find yourself wanting. Wanting indeed.
And all of that.
All. of. that.
Is but one aspect.
Calculate, center, see deeply within one’s soul.
Oh, Her breasts.
Womanly. Feminine. Huge. (Dare I say it?) Motherly
To be lost there, to suckle.
She is a totemic figure like something of Myth. Of stories told around a campfire.
The primeval Goddess-figure incarnate.
Powerful. Dominant. Motherly.
Wrathful and predatory.
(Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself (She is Large, She contains multitudes) )
And I am about to meet her in a few heartbeats.
I sit on the edge of the bed and look at the picture she has sent me.
I am undressed.
She knows me intimately anyway. Better than I know myself.
In a few moments She will allow me to discover my limits. And take me beyond them.
What is the meaning of this Riddle?
Why “Kiss There?”
It dawns upon me.
She has send it to clarify of course.
It begins with Power.
Between her Breasts and her Power I must begin my Service with feeling Her Power.
Suckling on Her bicep.
Taking within me that hidden meaning. The secret hierarchy which I must understand to the bottom of my being. Where I stand. What I want.
That is the answer.
The door knocks.
I walk of my own volition to answer it.
Photo with 13 notes
"Come on. Show us your guns!"
Good natured hollering and friendly laughter accompany the request.
The ambient sound around the house party’s pool discloses the fact that most of the college kids are, predictably, quite drunk by this time in the afternoon.
She has quietness within her.
Smiling, a very sweet smile, she obliges them.
Her body that of a gymnast slowly transitioning into a bodybuilder. A beautiful biceps peak, more than just ripped toned muscle. Full, meaty, strong.
Her body is hard but her smile and face are soft.
I breathe in deeply.
As she flexes her friends react, woops of triumph, laughing gasps and other sounds culminate in a huge splash. Someone has ended in the pool.
Her audience satisfied, she moves to a table with friends to sit as they talk.
She has quietness within her.
She looks across the merry chaotic tableau directly at me.
She does not break eye contact. There’s nothing lewd or suggestive on her end. Confidence beyond her years, Yes.
I, however, break contact fearing my features betray me.
I leave because I do not want to appear.
I stand up and get some water before walking out to the garage, deciding to take my car for a drive, get away, trying to forget this muscular college freshman.
My daughter’s first-year roommate.
As I turn across the path, somehow, she’s there waiting for me.
She smiles while looking me straight in the eyes, “I saw you looking at me.»
"Yeah, quite a spectacle with that clowning around, you handled it well" I bluff.
"No. Not just now, you’ve been looking at me all day. "
She flexes her right arm.
"You like muscles. I can tell.” She smiles even more as she adds, “And I like older men."
I swallow hard. I don’t reply.
She is still flexing, still smiling, still sure.
Something in my features does betray me.
And stepping out of her quietness she moves forward and kisses me.
My bridges are burned.
Photo with 22 notes
This is not what I expected.
And being a dungeon denizen that is saying something.
I was naked, prostrate on my knees as my Mistress surveyed the scene.
I’d spoken to her online for some time over the last weeks and we’d finally agreed I’d arrive at her house and prepare myself in her living room for her entrance.
She’d buzzed me in and after I prepared myself, I had left some… toys around for her use and enjoyment.
She picked up a piece of rope -used for elaborate knots to bind- and chuckled.
Again, not typical.
But then again nor was She..
She had mentioned she worked out but nothing could have prepared me for Her.
I realized this was intentional.
I was aroused more than I had ever been before yet the scene vibrations were different. Very different.
BDSM often is about discovering limits, going to their borders and then, oh-so-gently -or not- going beyond them. Discovering new ground in the land of pleasure. Discovering yourself.
Opening the Doors of perception as Blake would have said.
People misapprehend appearances and are ignorant of the fact that the physical is only a part of it:
The journey is first and foremost one of self discovery. Finding hidden recesses within yourself and bringing them to light. Or, often enough, reveling in their inner darkness.
The duality within us actualized in the Physical.
A play between the Dionysian and Apollonian sides of our nature.
An exchange of control, power and energies flowing between the Dominant and the subservient.
This is all quite serious you understand. Anyone who partakes is bound (pun intended) to see things in this light.
It’s not really just about some gimp wrapped in plastic.
Trappings can be important. Symbols and levers of these acts.
But not for Her. Her aura communicated She did not need them.
She ignored them.
Her muscular physique imposed a different aura of authority. A different reality.
There was no need for playing at anything. A huge bodybuilder, what She wanted She took.
Black marble, ebony steel flexing as she walked.
Huge breasts countering Enormous Biceps.
I did not know which I yearned to suck on first.
As she flexed, a moan left my lips and for the first time she paid me any attention. She gazed upon me as if only now noticing me.
She approved of my obvious arousal. A nod from her.
Her figure was a study in a different classical hourglass. Huge shoulders, small waist.
Feminine but nothing docile here. Aggressiveness and confidence exuding from her every pore.
Something different from the ritualistic character of my previous encounters became evident:
This was what Real Domination felt like.
She hadn’t even spoken to me yet and I already needed, on an animal level, to serve Her. Be surrounded and consumed by Her.
Lowering herself to her knees she picked up a whip I had placed for her.
Holding it in her hands she looked at me.
Her look conveyed a small amusement.
It said: “Really? A whip? Do I look like I need a whip ?”
Her forearms are larger than my bicep. Her calves are black granite in relief.
No. She does not need it.
She stands up making a decision.
She approaches me and lifts me with ease.
Her skin is hot. Hard.
Her strength is… What I Need to experience. Its Raw physicality.
I need to come.
My erection is painful but long training helps me avoid a further embarrassment in disappointing my Mistress.
I will come when and if I am allowed.
She will make a demonstration I realize. Drive a point.
I cannot wait. I slightly tremble.
She places me on her knees my backside up. The oldest position of subservience.
I will be punished for not understanding how far beyond toys she exists.
I will be punished to feel Real Domination
I will be punished because She must teach me She can.
I will be punished because it is my Need and Reward.
She will spank me.
From my position I can see her beautifully painted toes, so feminine, so delicate.
Her calves. A master jeweler’s dream in flesh.
I can feel the strength of her quads.
As her first slap connects I gasp.
"Thank you my Mistress" I say.
It is more than stinging. It starts from my ass and travels through my spine directly to my brain.
I see a sudden brightness.
"Thank you Mistress!"
I’m physically pushed forward on her knees this time.
Her other hand locks me in place. I feel its power, the muscle, the ease with which she pins me to Her.
"Thank you Mistress!"
More than a whip ever hurt, her strength has started to numb me.My ass is hot and raw. I fight the involuntary urge to come.
I also fight involuntary tears.
"Thank you Mistress!"
Her spanking is like sexual thrusting. I am being taken. In every sense of the word.
Her muscles flex and move in a rhythm leading upwards, upwards,
Tears are now freely flowing.
I am crying. I am trying not to come.
Time flows differently now,
She has found all my hidden recesses within me.
She has thrown light upon them.
She has Taken me to a new inner country.
I am experiencing a very odd out of body experience I realize.
Her touch is harder.
As the crescendo reaches a climax, her mighty arm connects on my ass a final time and then stays on it squeezing my ass possessively, hurting me, branding me.
She calmly says one word:
And I do. As tears fill my eyes, tears of pain, joy and ecstasy.
My orgasm pulses from my me. Again. And Again. And again.
Like never before.
A release of my everything.
Through it all her hand clenches my ass. Her other arm holding me tight as I spasm.
Finally I collapse upon her.
I am still crying tears of relief.
Calmly she asks: “Whose are you?”
I speak the truth: “I am Yours Mistress”
There are no more limits to look for in myself.
Her Muscular Grace has touched me.
She will show me the way from now on. I will follow.
Photo with 20 notes
She groans and goes through one more rep. Teeth clenched. Veins popping.
I don’t care that I’ve paused in the middle of the gym.
I am a girl, a neophyte to the gym, watching in awe this display of muscle dominance. I am not alone.
Everyone in the gym has stopped in their tracks and are looking at Her.
She’s in a trance, intoxicated with her fury.
“I don’t believe it, she’s pushing the whole stack” a guy next to me whispers in religious awe to no one in particular. I feel dizzy and grasp his arm, my heavy breasts brushing him.
He might think I’m coming on to him some part of me thinks.
I’m not and anyway he doesn’t.
Steadying myself I release him.
He’s also hypnotized by the sight of Her. Under the same spell. His mouth open.
She yells, a primal thing, and Her veins become angry snakes under Her skin. Blood pumping, Her face turns red.
She completes the movement. She must be done. Must Be.
One more rep.
She roars, a barbaric scream, a howl and moves the metal. Her muscles expanding, growing as I watch, She defeats the steel.
Surely this is it.
“ONE. MORE!” She Demands and my knees grow weak.
I am on fire below, my tension following Hers, vibrating at the same frequency as Her titanic movements, building to release in tune to Her feat.
She will do this I realize. I do not know to what I’m referring to.
Unmistakable sounds of pleasure escape my mouth now. I moan. My breath becomes heavy.
I do not care, nor is there anything for it.
She is the Steel, She has locked on the Steel and She is One with it, bending it to Her will.
Her face contorted in rage, in pain.
Or is feverish ecstasy?
Hers are the sounds of Orgasm I realize. Fulfillment. Not pain but conquest.
As her muscles expand in one final thrust, she releases a scream, in triumph and holds it.
No one breathes. The tension is feverish.
I bite my lip. I taste blood on the tip of my tongue.
She controls the steel.
Only Now releasing the weights.
As they slam violently into place, I can feel, we can all feel, the tremor, a small quake.
I close my eyes and my moan of surrender is swept in the sound of metal on metal.
Time starts again. Sounds of people and metal moving are heard.
I manage to place my ragged breath under a semblance of control.
I dare to raise my eyes.
She sits there still. A Warrior Queen on Her throne.
Looking straight at me.
Looking into me.
My eyes grow wide.
She looks at me contemplating.
I’m sweating under her gaze. Hopeful.
She raises her right arm bringing the cigarette to her mouth. She draws deeply, savoring the taste. She’s beautiful but she notices my eyes aren’t on her features.
“I love how you love these babies” she smiles and flexes her forearm. It ripples in response. She flexes a bit more. ” of course you do”
She looks amused.
“Tell you what” she says “This place is a mess ” her arm, still holding the cigarette, points at the room she’s renting, “I need a servant boy for the week I’ll be in town. I can’t bother with this crap”
” You take care of stuff here, clean, do laundry, be a good boy, cook my meals and I’ll… Play with you” she grabs my ass, gives it a good squeeze.
I nod again. She takes another puff.
“One more thing,” she says, “obviously I’ll be entertaining while here. You can either go out or stay at the foot of the bed and wait on us. Clean up and shit. But if you do stay, be quiet and don’t be loud when you cry. Keep it down. *I* don’t mind of course, but some guys get unnerved and it spoils my party” she pauses,
” Do you understand?”
I quickly nod.
“Good,” she says and points at the floor. I know my cue and immediately fall on my knees and start licking her muscular calves, cleaning them.
“Good boy” she says absentmindedly and tips ash off her cigarette. It falls on my head. I do not mind.
Her calves grow into hard perfect meaty diamonds which I lap my tongue upon.
“You forgot to thank me this time.” More ash drops on my head.
“Thank you Mistress, for letting me serve you” I say.
I continue up towards her mighty thighs which are already flexing angrily, like a storm approaching. I want to be immersed in them. She lifts her dress to allow me access without looking at me, ignoring me. Her mind is elsewhere. I know she will hurt me in a moment. I do not mind.
” Remember how you used to bug me about ‘keeping a clean house’, no smoking and shit? Before I started to lift? Remember?” she asks, still lost in thought.
I do not respond. The words do not hurt, I do not mind.
I used to mind.
It used to hurt.
But now, every time my wife comes back for a week and let’s me serve her, I’m Happy. So happy. Complete.
Even as I pretend to sleep at the foot of the bed and can hear her frantic lovemaking.
Question with 2 notes
Anonymous asked: Love your stories. They make me hard and I can't help myself...wish we could meat.
Thanks and nice to know. By the way, just in case it wasn’t obvious: I’m a guy. :-)
Photo with 8 notes
“Come on. What’s really going on in that mind of yours?” I asked switching lanes, moving towards the freeway exit that would take us towards to my mother-in-law’s house.
“It’s… That sometimes I don’t know what’s going on in her mind. When she left Dad after our marriage, that was out of the blue. You remember how devastated he was.”
” Yeah, that was hard” I said.
“Right. And then my Aunt going on about her fitness phase and going out with that weird crowd” she said, ” and she wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone until I flew out last Christmas.”
Last Christmas she had taken the kids out while I spent those holidays completely swamped at work. I had not joined them. In fact I hadn’t seen her for 5 years.
“You said everything was fine, the kids loved her and she was awesome with them” I pointed out,.
” Yeah, she was” she glanced at the back seat to make sure the kids were still asleep “but I didn’t tell you… everything. There’s something a bit embarrassing that you’ll find out and I should have said”
“Eh, I would’ve appreciated a heads up *before* we drove a thousand miles” I said flippantly
She didn’t answer.
“Hey, I’m joking. What’s the big deal?” I said ” did she join a cult or something?”
“No… Not exactly”
I was starting to get concerned. This wasn’t typical of her. There was something here. My wife soldiered on, clearly trying to get it off her chest.
“That fitness phase. Well. You see. It wasn’t a phase. Once she divorced dad - in fact I’m not sure this didn’t have something to do with it, what she did - well, she REALLY got into lifting”
Uh, oh. I thought. I hope this isn’t going where I think its going…
“She’s a Bodybuilder. She started hardcore bodybuilding” she blurred out.
” She’s 58. How hard core are we talking here? You’re over-reacting” I said
My mouth was dry. My mind was racing. Damn, damn,damn. What have I gotten myself into?
“No, I’m talking big time” she said. As I pulled up to a red light she made me turn and look at her “You won’t recognize her at all. It’s all kind of embarrassing. She competes at shows. She’s dating guys half her age - God knows what weirdos they are- and I wanted you to know. Just be patient. Don’t say anything nasty. Please. For me”.
She clearly thought it was embarrassing. I nodded and looked serious which must have reassured her because she smiled back.
I *was* serious. Because I might be in trouble. My heart was racing trying to figure out the implications.
You see, my mother-in-law knew something my petite little wife and mother of my children most definitely did not:
I’m a, very, closeted female muscle admirer. I think female bodybuilders are the sexiest beings on earth and am completely overwhelmed when I come across one.
In fact, because I *do* love my wife and my family, I’ve gone to ridiculous lengths to avoid being tempted. My wife thinks muscular women were ‘abnormal’ as I’d indirectly found out through comments over the years and that had finished that conversation.
And now, in a few minutes, I was in trouble.
My mind went back to that day 6 years ago.
I’d walked in my room and had found my mother-in-law-to-be sitting over my laptop.
Alarm bells echoed in my head. I hadn’t erased my browsing history. Had I?
A picture was on full screen to my horror. One of those pictures.
A bodybuilder flexing her bicep and a muscle worshipper kissing the muscle with a look of ecstasy on his face.
My future mother in law was a beautiful woman in her early fifties. Tall, over 5’ 10”, blonde and blue eyed she had been a model in her youth. My fiancée got her looks from her but was smaller, getting that from her dad who was a little over 5’ 7”.
She didn’t turn around
“I just wanted to send an email and I opened the browser” she said.
“some guy sent me a link and…” I improvised.
“Don’t lie.” she said, ” I’ve been here some time and yes, I checked your files. I’ve seen the videos and the pictures and the folders” she turned around too look at me,
” I’m not judging you. But my daughter isn’t like this. Are you lying to her?” she asked.
“No! No, I mean I like these women but it’s not the only thing I like. I’m in love with your daughter.” I pleaded
She looked straight at me for a long time, her eyes firm but not without compassion.
“I think you believe that. However, the passions I’ve seen here, the intensity of play between those involved is… Unique. Are you sure?”
“Is it about… Domination?” she asked.
“I don’t really feel comfortable discussing this with you” I said.
“I think .” she said and clicked the mouse: another image came in screen, a muscular middle aged Valkyrie. Standing proudly on some stage. A front lat spread, two younger men were on their knees, each cradling with both hands one of her bulging thighs. Their looks adoring, subservient, “that we’ve moved beyond that point. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“It’s not always about domination… It can be. It’s just hard muscular women. Being sexy.” I stumbled.
” Rome reversal? What’s the essence of all of this?” she seemed genuinely interested.
” Female bodybuilders are Women. All woman. They’re just into the aesthetics of muscle. They sculpt their body. They’re strong. It’s… Beautiful. It’s beautiful and I find it attractive “This came out slightly defensively.
“Have you” she looked for the right phrase ” have you ‘muscle worshipped’ such a woman?” she asked
“No”. I admitted
“Then how do you know?” she asked
“How do you know you’ll be content without this?”
“I love your daughter” I said
“They are… Amazing. ” she was mesmerized. She reached a conclusion.
“Anyway, don’t worry ” she looked straight at me
” this will be our secret then”.
And she’d kept her word.
We arrived at her beachside house.
She was waiting for us in the driveway. Despite the warm day she wore bulky gym clothes that covered up her physique.
I realized I wanted to see that body. Damnit. Was I a *complete* idiot?
She lifted both of her granddaughters with ease and they all hugged.
Overcompensating, I acted all suave and ignored the obvious as we exchanged greetings.
“Long time no see” she said smiling while hugging me, I could feel the hardness of her body underneath the clothes.
I started thinking accounting issues. That’s it, I thought, IRS. It worked. A bit.
A few minutes later we were left alone in our large guest room.
I got a call from work. I had to go online and deal with an issue immediately. Nice start to two weeks of vacation.
My wife nudged me, “Honey I’ll just take the kids and run down to the mall. Need to buy some beach stuff. My Mom’s running some errands. We’ll meet down by the beach, you go and get a head start.” she smiled, I nodded, typing furiously.
An hour later I was on the beach with a book in my hands. Not thinking about my predicament for the next two weeks. Or muscular women. At all. Almost succeeding.
A shadow feel on me. I looked up.
All I had time to think was “I’m lost, so lost”.
My mother in law stood there. A vision of muscle. She wore a zebra striped bikini. Her blonde hair neatly tied up highlighting her enormous shoulders.
Her legs were enormous, so much more muscular than the picture that day so long ago.
She must have gained 50 pounds of muscle. She would easily put to shame men bodybuilders.
Her washboard abs led up towards an amazing outward tapering of her shoulders.
She flexed her arm. It exploded into a massively sized magnificient bicep.
Mature muscle. A bifurcated peak.
Behind her I could see the promenade. Even from there I saw people looking.
From up close it was overwhelming.
She looked at her peaked arm, admiring it, smiling. Knowing perfectly well what she was doing to me.
She looked at me.
“Not bad for my age” she said ” Or any age really”
I looked down.
” Come on . Don’t be shy. You of all people should appreciate this. After all, you initiated me into my new life”
I got up, abandoning everything and walked to the house. My cheeks on fire, an erection raging nearing explosion.
As I walked I could feel her gaze on my back.
I take a long shower. A cold one. I try to establish some plan. Some way to get through this vacation without losing it. Without losing everything.
“I love my wife” I say to myself, over and over and over like a mantra. Trying, not to persuade myself, for it’s true, but to help me overcome every instinct in my mind and soul that craves to feel, to be engulfed by this woman on the beach.
The sight of that arm still burns in my being.
I walk out of the shower with a towel around my waist and stop in my tracks.
She’s sitting on our bed cross legged. Huge thighs and calves.
My eyes lock onto this Goddess. She radiates confidence, certainty, strength.
I repeat my mantra, fighting a losing battle with myself. I’m standing there startled.
“You’re a good man, a good husband and, from what I’ve seen with how
the girls are coming along, a good Father as well.” she raises her arm and points at the open bathroom door.
” No steam. Which means a cold shower. Good man” she raises her other arm and goes into a double biceps pose.
“How’s that working for you?” she adds playfully.
” Why?” I croak. I don’t recognize my voice. ” Why are you doing this? Are you testing me?”
She sighs. Pats the bed next to her.
“No. But I can see that I’ll need to explain.” I’m still not moving.
“Come here.” She demands. I sit next to her. Naked but for the towel.
I’m suddenly aware of what would happen if my wife walks in.
I try to stand up but her arms grab me. Strong, unyielding.
She places me in a hold and -somehow- her legs are around my neck. The towel has fallen revealing my embarrassed excitement.
“Relax” she purrs, still holding me under her complete control, ” She called and they’ll be late. Also, we can hear them come in”
“No,” I struggle. ” I love her”
She tightens her lock.
“You’re a stubborn one. I’m glad she chose you. But shut up and listen. Now!”
I shut up. She relaxes a bit letting me go. I’m still spread out with her legs surrounding me. Her muscular calves are now inches from my mouth. I lick my lips.
” Do you really think I would jeopardize my daughter’s marriage? I love my daughter!”
I look at her confused.
“You’re silly” she smiles and flexes her calves, ” If anything I’m doing this for *her* benefit as well as yours. And , yes, mine. Do you believe me?” she looked serious.
I nodded. Eyes on those perfect calves.
” While I speak I want you to worship my legs. Do it now!” she demands.
Something breaks through all this confusion. I give in to my hunger. I taste her. I am lost.
Somehow I hear her voice, the same tone of voice, rational, explaining.
“That’s better. I thought you’d have a stroke before you saw reason”. She pats my head. All I can do is feel and taste those calves as they flex around my tongue.
” You see. I have you to thank for starting this new life.” I can hear her but not react. My mouth moves down towards her ankle.
“Ever since I saw muscular women at the gym I’d liked the look, but there was a part of the puzzle that I was missing. I though it was hot, sexy, I wanted it, yet” she pauses, I’m licking her toes now ” Umm” she moans ” Yes, That’s it. I knew you had it in you.” she continues ” but it was your revelation that there was a whole world of muscle appreciation out there that made up my mind and”
She stops and grabs my hair forcefully and lifts my gaze to hers “Take your time! I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me? Do you understand? Just nod “
“Good. My husband couldn’t understand that things were going to be like this from now on. - I still fuck him by the way. - Best thing ever to happen to our sex lives. All he can think about is now is me. But I knew I wasn’t going to be satisfied by him alone. I craved to be worshipped. ”
She takes a deep breath and says ” I think, I’ve lost you. Time to get some blood back in your brain so you at least can understand what I’m saying”
She pulls her foot from my mouth and presses it on the side of my head pushing it into the bed.
Her other foot gently touches my erection. Once, twice.
I come, moaning.
She continues “Good. So. I changed. I evolved. Into what I think I was destined to be. I’m happier than ever. I have a harem of muscle worshippers , among them my former husband as I mentioned. My sex life is…” she searches for a word, her gaze dreamy ” Magnificent”.
She raises my naked body and takes my face into her strong hands. She looks at me. She reaches her point:
” Here’s the thing though: Once I understood, once I experienced again and again the hunger you and men like you have, I understood that you would never truly be content, never be fulfilled until you gave into your soul’s need” she gently caresses my cheek in a motherly motion, “One day you would give in. To another Goddess. And this I do not wish for you, for my daughter’s sake or for your family’s”.
I’m speechless. She kisses me. Long and tenderly. Her tongue exploring, taking, taming, conquering.
She withdraws and I’m left wanting.
“So *I* will be your Muscle Goddess. And you will be content and happy with my daughter.”
She raises her bicep and flexes, she leads my mouth by right to its hardness, making a point that although I go willing, I have no say in the matter. It is what She wants.
I begin to begin. Also changed.
“There, there” she murmurs soothingly, cooing into my ear, kissing my temples.
I am happy. I have my Muscle Goddess and my wife.
“Thank you” I say.
” It will be our little secret” she responds. Once again.
Photo with 12 notes
Elegant. Statuesque. Graceful. Refined.
A ballet dancer’s posture.
Long fingers. Piano lessons.
Educated. Sophisticated. Confident.
Her thesis was on… Camus? Perhaps.
Paris. The Rive Gauche. Days spent at Shakespeare and Company.
An Aestheticist. A Pursuer of the hidden anatomies of need.
A pony tail for the gym. Long lustrous hair let loose once she changes back after her workout. What will it be?
A vintage black Chanel dress. She wears it. Not the other way around.
Classic high heels. Black stockings.
When she walks, the world itself appreciates her legs.
Accustomed to gentlemen appreciating her. Not staring. In the circles in which she travels gentlemen do not ogle.
A radiant smile. Enough in itself.
Art galleries. The Opera. Ballet.
Understated earrings. A single ring, a parting gift from him.
Moments of serious intensity. Her private moments.
And as she lifts her biceps expand. Muscle Rising. Stretching.
A secret smile etched briefly on her perfect features.
Another path into beauty. Into need.
I but gaze upon her.
She is beyond me.
But it is no matter.
I have seen the secret smile.
She molds her body and the world around Her.
Photo with 10 notes
Some of them you have to initiate into Muscle slowly.
I revel in the ritual; I think of it like training a pet.
I know how that sounds but I can’t help it. It’s really what it is.
All boys come into three categories when confronted with someone like me. Someone with my body.
A few, and believe me it really is a few, just don’t care for muscle.
Doesn’t matter what I do.
I can still get them into bed if I want to, obviously, but it’ll be despite my hard body. And that’s a shame.
Especially since I’ve grown accustomed to a certain treatment.
On the other end of the spectrum you’ll find the muscle worshippers. Closeted or not they’re the easiest to deal with.
I practically just have to whistle.
They come in all shapes and sizes but the one common feature is how they behave when they first set their eyes on me.
They’ll almost crash their car, stare, pause in mid-sentence, ignore whoever they’re with etc.
It’s cute and I especially love it when they’re with wives or girlfriends and the poor things are in agony not to embarrass themselves or make it awkward for their dates. It’s so sexy when they manage to excuse themselves for a moment and try to get my attention.
Occasionally I’ll wink at them when they think I don’t see them staring or I’ll flex a bit or kiss a bicep. That last one makes them go faint.
But these boys aren’t the sweetest.
The sweetest, the most succulent part, the fillet if you will, are those that need to be trained, eased into it, who would bolt if pressed.
It’s like breaking in a stallion.
Some in this category are simple: they just need to be overwhelmed in one single moment to unlock their desires. A shock treatment.
I’ll just push them onto a chair, making sure they feel that I’m stronger, that there’s not much they could do even if they wanted to, make them really feel my overpowering them, disrobe and pose in front of them, inches away.
Looking into their eyes when I do this is heaven:
The eyes growing large, focusing on my body, surprise first giving into a look of excitement and then pure lust, breath becoming ragged.
They change in front of my eyes.
With others I’ll go slowly. The jittery ones.
Usually, I’ll use my Ass.
No woman on earth has the ass that female bodybuilders have.
Huge, rounded, firm, strong and juicy.
Ass play with me is heaven and yes, I know it.
A one stop destination for ecstasy.
Honey, I know you will stare at this Ass. Can’t be helped.
I play with him.
I’ll bend over casually. To pick something up. Or lean on a balcony.
I’ll wear see-through clothes.
So far, so typical. Most women do the same stuff.
But with a Muscle Goddess here’s where things change:
Where it twists.
I’ll take it to the next level. I’ll mindfuck him. Yum.
I’ll find an excuse to parade in front of him with a swimsuit.
Say, at the house, before going to the beach.
I make sure he sees the continuum, the powerful meaty Muscle thigh curve that leads from the teardrop muscle on my quad turning and bulging around and into the twin Heaven of my Ass.
I’ll flex my thigh sideways and then turn my back on him.
Power. And that Ass.
Muscle. And that Ass.
Muscle equals that Ass.
Loving the Muscle equals loving that Ass.
It pays to be slow here.
Saying I’m my legs are sore I’ll innocently ask him to massage me.
He begins. I’ll flex my quads. He loves it. I can see it in his eyes.
I’ll turn around on my stomach and have him work on my hamstrings, let him see how it works on my ass.
And as he begins, I’ll begin flexing those globes. My Ass cheeks flexing.
Usually he’ll pause massaging me at that point. Unsure. Helpless. Hypnotized.
He wants to touch. Most do.
This is when I seal the deal. This is when he begins to learn the language of muscle worship.
This is where I break in the stallion.
I ride him.
I’ll turn him over and around suddenly and firmly. I place him in a scissor hold.
My thighs around his neck.
His face looking at my ass.
And I’ll squeeze. Ever so gently at first.
A little more.
He protests. I ignore him.
“Hush” I’ll say, “You need this. Don’t fight it”.
“Touch my legs. Kiss them”
I squeeze and make him place his hands on my Ass.
He feels the power of these Muscles, this Ass.
He now associates this magnificent Ass with my powerful muscles.
With Muscle worship.
I’m rewiring him.
I squeeze some more and as he follows my directions, I reach down with my hand and offer him a little release on his own bulge. He doesn’t need much encouragement.
I squeeze hard as he comes. Feeling my power and feeling my Muscles are now associated with coming.
His training has begun.
He’s now fit to ride.
I love doing this. Breaking them into my stable.
It’s so much fun for both of us…
Almost as fun as breaking straight girls into muscle worship.
But that’s a different story.
Photo with 14 notes
I squirmed in pain, “I knew I shouldn’t have fought you”
She looked surprised, “Do you feel that sparring with me is beneath you?”
“No, I knew I’d have my ass served on a plate. Again. Plus I’m the one beneath you”
She had me in a hold down -oasekomi- and could easily move to a choke hold. I submitted but to my surprise she didn’t relent. Instead she moved to a chokehold and a more comfortable position for her.
“Hey!” I yelled “I give! You got it”
I raised my eyes, looked at her face and saw something… else.
“You’ve been checking me out, admit it” she said
“What? Aaah.” she applied a small joint pressure and looked at me again. The pain was red hot.
“Come on, admit it!”
I looked at her almost innocent face. Her long blond hair was caught back so as to provide me no assistance during the fight.
“Yes! I’ve been checking you out. But only because I don’t understand how you overpower me in all the sparring. Your technique isn’t better, you’re stronger”
“SO it *is* the strength. Is there anything wrong with me being stronger than you?” she applied a little more force to my agony.
“No!” I yelled.
“Because I’ve been noticing you’re getting hard whenever I have you pinned”
My eyes were bulging now from the chokehold.
“I kind of like it” she added playfully, released me suddenly into a mess on the floor and rose in one graceful swift movement.
I caught my breath, the world spinning and turned, still on my ass.
I caught a glipmse of her start to undo her bulky judo robes.
“You’ve wondered what’s underneath right?”
I nodded my affirmation silently.
“I’ve figured you out. Understood you. I think I know what you need but you’ll need to figure out for yourself as well”
She undid her robes and revealed the body of champion bodybuilder.
My eyes went wide.
Still smiling she dropped her robe and went through a set of poses highlighting one muscle group after the other. Her biceps, traps, back, calves, ass, thighs: Muscles moving hypnotically, enlarging, flexing, shifting. Exuding Sex and Strength with every new pose.
“This is why you always lose and this is why you’re always hard. You like?” she asked.
“Yes. Oh My God yes” I managed.
“Is this what you need?” She asked.
My mouth half-open I could only nod in the affirmative.
“Say it!” She demanded.
“I need You. I need to feel You and touch You and Worship You”
“Good”, she said, “Good boy”
“Where shall we start?”, she pondered, “Ah, I know”
She walked towards me and used her powerful leg to push me gently on my back.
She lifted her foot and placed it on my mouth. Her massive diamond shaped calves rose above her beautiful foot and beyond that the mass of her thick as tree-trunks thighs. As I saw her standing above me, from my point of view on my back on the floor, the rest of her body rose huge and magnificent. She looked like a Goddess.
“You may Begin your service” she said.
“Yes Mistress” I said.
I took her foot in my mouth and began to suck on her toes. In ecstasy.
Page 1 of 3