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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  I look at you...a tribute to a muscular beauty MLR

Author Topic: I look at you...a tribute to a muscular beauty MLR  (Read 4253 times)


  • Guest
I look at you...a tribute to a muscular beauty MLR
« on: February 20, 2011, 05:00:45 pm »
I look at you...a tribute to a muscular beauty


I look at you....
It's late at night. The electronic clock on the VCR is blinking just after 1 in the morning. I can't sleep. It's all so unreal..I have to remind myself that it is not a dream but all too real.
I switch on the small bed lamp next to me...the light spills over the side of the bed and picks up your soft blond hair cascading over your pillow and I watch the serenity of you beautiful face as you sleep peacefully, softly breathing and lost in a dream somewhere...
A dream? My God what a are...
I turn on my side and stare at you. Only your face and neck is protruding from beneath the soft, white satin sheets, but my imagination finds closure in my mind's eye as I fill in the contours that follows the shape of your body under the thin material; for I know what lies beneath that ...
You briefly stir in your sleep and move your arm across your chest as you turn on your side, revealing a tanned shoulder and a portion of your left arm...

My heart suddenly loses its rhythm for a second as I look at the revelation of sculpted flesh, that's enough to send any man over the brink and into a deep abyss of arousal. The side lighting from the bed lamp softly races over your neck and shoulders, leaving deep shadows where the muscle in your upper arm and shoulders draws deep lines, and thick fingers of muscle, stands out in sharp outline.

How unreal you look...the beautiful oval face, delicate ears, full lips, sky blue eyes. All framed by shoulder length blond deceptive. But that is just the proverbial "tip of the iceberg", for connected to that angelical face of yours, is a body that could only have been forged by the Gods on Mount Olympus and created to remind Man what devastating beauty they are capable of. Venus herself would have outdone herself here... The truth however is, that you were forged and sculpted from iron, sweat, pain, nutrition and savage dedication; a labour of intense love that started many years ago in a small basement of a small suburban house where a 16 year-old school girl picked up an awkwardly crafted  dumbbell for the first time.

You stir slightly. I thought of switching off the light as I don't want to disturb your sleep. You always says that it is important for you to sleep enough and well, so your body can recuperate from the strenuous exercise you put it through 5 days of the week. But I can't seem to shift my focus from your thick deltoids and trapezium muscles that are protruding from underneath the sheets and sweeping into your triceps causing a deep indent at the back of your arm, now curled slightly in front of you, causing the biceps to rainbow out in the front.
Even this trivial movement of your arm, has produced an instant appearance of muscle as if by magic. My eyes follow the contours along your arm. I notice how the muscle in the forearm twist and runs in a straight line to your wrists. A thick vein running from your deltoids snakes like a river down through your biceps and terminates in the crook of your elbow where a delta of more veins explode into the ocean of your forearm and feeds the muscle with blood. I've seen you flex and relax those arms numerous times before and still can't get used to the incredible beauty of it all and the awesome power you can exert with them.
And are all woman.

"Michelle .... my Belle." Your name even slides off my mind like white gold. I smile as I hear your voice when you introduce yourself to people for the first time: "Hello, I'm Michelle, you know like the Beatles song..." A melodious voice of a beautiful female, one that could lure ships onto rocks like a siren. I always said you've got a voice which would have been perfect for radio, a voice that would conjure up images of honey and warm custard over strawberries. A voice that one would fall in love with even if you have never seen the physical being to which it belonged at all. This was not a steroids induced voice, for Michelle, was all natural muscle as she lay next to me in quiet sleep.

An Elven princess... yes that is what she reminds me of, ethereal in her beauty, powerful in her physical being.

The red binary letters of the electronic clock tells me I have been staring at you for nearly fifteen minutes. I could happily lie here and just keep on staring... forever.
You are mine?
This Elven beauty, forged from muscle and blood, skin like smooth velvet, that barely achieves the purpose of keeping the muscle so perfectly balance over your entire body, intact. How lucky can one man be? Like Romeo I'd like to shout: " Oh blessed, blessed moon."

With a sigh, you turn onto your back and the sheet slips of you like a curtain revealing the opening scene of some amazing show that the audience have been waiting for in anticipation. Like a statue of some deity covered by canvas and suddenly being revealed at some formal ceremony of the gods, where it is raised to reveal a work of incredible art by a master sculptor, the sheet slides ever so slightly off you.

I audibly draw in my breath at the sight of you. I've seen Michelle in so many ways, so many times...and yet, every time I "see" her all over again.
The short, white, satin night dress, which I bought for you a month ago for your 28 birthday, has move up to your navel, and now reveals a tanned, muscular leg with sweeping thigh muscles and a thick inner thigh muscle, sneaking into, and disappearing underneath the soft material of her jade green panties.

Mesmerized I watch you breathing so elegantly. Like a small boat  gently swaying on the tide, you breath in. In my mind I can see the oxygen entering your powerful lungs, dispersing through your veins and rush into your bloodstream to feed your muscular body to be assimilated and become part of this living, breathing human sculpture of the ultimate female anatomy chart.

The thin material of the dress perfectly contours your small but ample breasts, placed so perfectly on bulging pectoral muscles. You've never been one for big breasts and always said that they would be in your way when you train. But they were perfect and reminded me of small tennis balls, perfectly fitting into your hand when you cupped them, the hard nipples pressing on the inside of the hand. Round, perky and full. Now lying like two small, ripe melons, beautifully rounded and contoured, while separated from each other by thick strands of muscle which keeps them a few centimeters apart.
I watch as your chest expands... my God...I can clearly see your intercostals imprinting the material, expanding, enlarging the ribcage to breath in.

My eyes are suddenly attracted to a movement just above the jade green panties you've got on. The diaphragm muscles now expanding causing your abdominals to explode in a symphony of muscle which inadvertently conjures up the image of square bricks neatly stacked by a master mason, one above the other, into my mind. I smile to myself as I remember what those abdominals really look like when she's flexing them on purpose.

"People say I've been bitten by the iron bug." I still remember her words so clearly when we met, so many months ago. But it feels like yesterday.
Was it Fate?

Maybe it was fate... but then I don't believe that things just happen randomly in the universe... Michelle was no random event... every muscle and vein on her body was a deliberate conscious effort to create a master sculpture from muscle and flesh, a living, breathing Greek sculpture, by a master that wielded the chisel and hammer expertly, hour after hour, days on end, through seasons, a labour of love and dedication that almost bordered on the obsessed and the insane…

You turn on your side and the satin sheet loses its grip on your flesh and slips to the ground revealing you in your entire female splendor.

Have mercy …
My God… what a contradiction in terms you are. So beautiful, feminine, soft in all you do, graceful in your movement, gentle as a lamb. And yet - when you close your hand over a barbell and slowly start to work the weights, repetition after repetition, you transform into a machine of petrified muscle as your arms and legs push and strain like some weird biological perpetual machine that has no point of rest. You become oblivious to onlookers or the room around you, an erotic Goddess of muscle and blood, instinctively doing what has been hard wired into your genes, doing what make you feel alive, feeding off the energy exploding through your body, sucking invisible power from an invisible dynamo somewhere in the cosmos. 
A fascinating phenomenon to watch and behold.

The metamorphoses from when we first met to what now is lying next to me in bed are just… inconceivable.

I remember the first contact we had so well. The call that came through to my studio that morning. Things were slow and quiet and business was scarce. So when the assignment came along for a catalogue  on some gym equipment, it was a welcome relief  in the otherwise doldrum  days  I was experiencing in the studio. Had my fill of cats, dogs and babies.

The equipment to be photographed was to be delivered the next day and a model that was to be used in the pictures will call the same day.  The gears of progress and industry was set in motion, the studio crew sprang to life, design artists were called, makeup  and wardrobe were arranged, lights and backdrops prepared and some ideas for the shoot were bounced around between my partners and me.

It was about 4 in the afternoon when you called.  When  I took the receiver in my hand I sensed something reaching across to me, a sensation I can’t explain, but when I heard your voice, the atmosphere around me changed…. I’ve spend a lot of time with numerous female models over the years…believe me…some good, some bad. But here was a voice that exhumed confidence, strength and devastating femininity.  Strong, smart, inspirational, creative were word that jumped to mind. In my mind’s eye I tried to picture the person whom this belongs to, but was not anywhere prepared for the reality that was attached to that beautiful voice… the being that came with it the next day was about to change my whole life, my entire perception of the female species, the female physique and my concept of beauty, esthetic values and love.

I went to bed early that evening, for I know that the next day will be a long and hard day. How little did I know that  by 9 am  that next  morning I would wish that the day would never end and that  it  would take on such a surrealistic quality; would transform my mind forever…

I fell into a restless sleep not realizing that a few months from then, I would lie awake and stare at the most stunning   vision that would willingly and lovingly link her life to mine . Why she chose me?  Yes I know you’ll be asking that question soon.  But be patient dear reader, as I shall unfold the events to you in due time …

You turn on to your side and unconsciously move your leg up towards your  stomach, instinctively covering your  womanhood  but in the process revealing mind  numbing gluteus muscle, hamstrings and adductor muscles  moving in symphony to the slightest movement.
Those legs…. that was the first thing I saw when we met that next day…. 


  • Guest
I look at you...a tribute to a muscular beauty -repost Parts 3 & 4
« Reply #1 on: February 20, 2011, 05:02:23 pm »
My mind wanders back to the fateful day when you literally walked into my life. The studio was in full motion and I got lost in the hustle and bustle of getting my gear ready, checking lighting levels, moving the equipment to be photographed into position and the myriad other small little details needed to ensure a good shoot. 
The heavy gym equipment was delivered early that morning and by my second cup of coffee the whole lot has been carried into the studio space through the wide roller doors we normally used to get cars into the studio for an advert shoot. Four of my studio hands and a number of delivery personnel  struggled and strained to get the 3 machines and weights into the building, accompanied by a lot of swearing and heavy breathing. It was fun watching them struggle. Glad I didn’t have to help.
Everything seemed to be in place. The first machine was positioned and the light adjusted; I needed to get a reading with the model in the picture. I checked the clock. It was slightly after 7 am. She hadn’t pitched yet.
Holding the expensive Nikon in my hand, I walked to the receptionist area of the studio, having in mind to get the young receptionist, sitting half asleep behind the desk, to phone our model to make sure she’s on time. We had to get this show on the road no later than nine O’ clock. Make up, hair and wardrobe still had to be done… time is a ticking….
As I rounded the corner of the reception desk, the lens cap of the Nikon dropped out of my hand, and true to Murphy’s Law, it didn’t land flat and solid for a pickup on the floor, but started rolling like some possessed piece of plastic, in a straight line for the door. Bend double and nearly on all fours I did a Quasi Modo, Hunchback of Notre dame act, after the lens cap. 
Scurrying after it, the room became a blur around me and focusing on the lens cap’s mad direction I notice that it came to a swinging standstill between two feet near the sofa. The cap was instantly forgotten as my eyes now focused on a pair of short black boots. But it was not the boots that caught my attention; it was the silky smooth skin of the legs that grew out of them. The narrow sprout of the Achilles tendons on both legs, flaring out into calve muscles that beautifully swelled  into perfect spheres of muscle that almost touch each other, as you stood in a relaxed position, your back to me, the weight of your body on the right leg, the left relaxed. The soft flowing dress that covered your knees suddenly obscured my view of the rest of those appendages.  I caught myself feeling a pang of disappointment and wishing for a split moment that I could follow those striking legs further along their path.
As I straightened up, red in the face… not only from the blood that rushed to my head from my crawling on the floor, but also because of the thoughts that came rushing in on me… I heard the familiar voice that mesmerized me on the phone the day before.
“This you looking for?” the siren sang.
Tearing my eyes away from those marvelous calves, I focused on the girl that stood before me.
A Slender hand with well manicured nails dangled the lens cap in front of me. The story that the calves began, continued from her fingers up her forearms, down her biceps and across her shoulders and terminated in the most attractive face I’ve ever seen. The bright blue eyes were smiling mischievously and deep down below their ocean blue depths something awesome was dancing.
Authority sat on your forearms and power radiated from your entire appearance. The turquoise dress you had on flowed and ebbed over your  body like a fast flowing river , touching contours and crevasses  as the material managed to conform and negotiate the contours of the body underneath. I could only glimpse the calves, and the arms revealed by the dress you had on. And for a very brief moment thick muscles revealed themselves around the kneecaps and thighs.
In a trance I took the lens cap from your fingers, my eyes finding it difficult to depart from the blue eyes, blonde hair and exquisite face smiling at me. If somebody had hit me with a baseball bat right between the eyes, it would have been less of a shock to my system than the few seconds which just elapsed since I dropped the lens cap. I’ve worked with models and the conventional idea of what is beautiful was shattered in an instant. I’ve seen females that are in to bodybuilding on magazine covers, never gave it a mere thought, as it was not part of my reality. Intrigued by it? Yes. As a photographer, line, shape and contours always are a part of my experience. But females with muscle…well…they were over there…and I’m over here.
Regaining my poise I smiled back and heard my own voice from somewhere distant apologize for my dog impersonation and a “thank you” was also in there somewhere.
“This is Michelle. The model for today’s shoot, Martin,” Kate, the receptionist chimed in. She was smiling from ear to ear, having noticed my blundering in front of the new girl. I wanted to throw some sarcastic remark her way, but decided against it. Instead I introduced myself to you, instinctively offering my hand in greeting, you did the same. The contact with your hand was electrifying.  There was power in your touch, not like a man shaking your hand but like a woman that knows what she wants, and yet in that grip, although soft and feminine, there was strength.
(Why did you affect me so?) 
Michelle was standing with her back towards me as I came into the room, looking at the enlargements of my work, exhibited against the wall. My subconscious mind only now started to paste the images together. Like a person that suffered from PTSS my mind slowly rewound the images pasting the pieces into a large puzzle picture in my head. The broad shoulders, v- shaping to the small slim hips, the calves, the movement as you turned around, the subtle, almost delicate movements of your  body under the dress , the quick bending of your knees as you stooped down in one graceful movement and retrieved the lens cap from the floor, then dangling it towards me.
Believe me, in my line of work, I have worked with many shapes and sizes of models, but this girl had a presence and a quality to her that made me spin. Charisma and class poured out of her whole being. My mind was trying to fill in the blanks that the dress was hiding. Forget her physique for a moment, just her first impression was overwhelming.
“Did you do these portraits?” she asked, pointing at a couple of nude studies I did with a model some time ago.
I nodded sheepishly, feeling a bit embarrassed now for having them up there.
“They are very beautiful, I like them a lot. I would like to talk to you about some photos for myself I’d like to do some time, if you would be interested.” She smiled. My mind started spinning again.
(“Would I be interested?” My lord, was that a trick question?)
“I certainly will,” I said, “am always on the lookout for interesting additions for my portfolio. We can talk during the shoot or just after and hear what you have in mind and set up a date.”
“Super!”  She picked up two large duffle bags from the couch. I offered to help carry them, but she just smiled and said its fine, she’ll manage. I think she did so to spare me the embarrassment, for her arms expanded massively as the full weight of the bags came to bare. Triceps flared out like small inflated entities with a life of their own. Whatever was in those bags were heavy.
“Where to?”
I lead the way to the dressing rooms where the make-up artists and wardrobe was already waiting. For a moment I wished that I was following her, just so I can watch her in motion.
My heart was racing … but nothing could prepare me for the entity that would walk out of the dressing room in a while. I say “entity” dear reader, for she was more than human, goddess, angel, all rolled into one. More than the sum total of all added up.
And to the best of my ability, I’ll try to describe what happened next, hoping that my words will not fail me to convey what I saw then and kept on seeing that whole evening, like an after image from looking into too bright a light…

I suddenly become aware that you have opened those eyes and was secretly staring back at me…
Your left hand was instinctively covering your chest, your fingers spread over your breast, while your head was comfortably cradled in the nook of your right arm behind your head. The muscles in your abdomen were taking turn to chase each other in a bizarre game of rise and fall as they roll out beneath the satin sheet now languidly draped over your lower body.
“Hi…,” you smile briefly.”I can feel you staring at me.”
A faint smile played around her mouth. The eyes close again.
“ Hmmmm, I like it when you do…”
She opens one eye and smile. “It’s still early…wake me in an hour, ok.Have to start early today. Have  a lot to do.”
The blue windows close again. She inhale briefly, expanding the ribcage and causing a overabundance of movement in her upper body as muscles expand with the new influx of blood and oxygen.
Like a modern day Marlo Brando in “Apocalypse Now”, the filmatic technique of repetition where he utters the words, “The horror, the horror…” in my mind turned to…”The muscle…my God..the muscle…!

How amazing it is that when you make even the slightest movement, lions and snakes writhe and move under your skin. I wondered for a moment what it must feel like to be you? To have such devastating beauty and a body that cast spells on both men and women. To have such awesome power over men, to hypnotize with a single look, a movement, to totally mesmerize with the flex of a calf muscle, to drive insane with the display of maddening perfection...for that is what you are…perfection made flesh. 

You stretch in your sleep, the silky sheets now slips off your middle and reveal you in all your incredible beauty.  I remember how you told me long before you revealed yourself to me the first time,  that you are very different from normal females, and I didn’t quite understand what you meant at the time. Not only were you a walking anatomy chart and different in that way, I only discovered your power and strength as time went by, but nothing could prepare me for the implausible beauty that lay adjacent to your sweeping thighs.  Smooth and prominent, clean shaven like a 7 - year-old school girl, your movement give me a quick glimpse of your vagina, the lips slightly parted, revealing your muscular clitoris, now barely protruding from between the smoothness of the flanking lips. Can any man ever imagine what it is like to have those pillars of thigh muscle open up and invite you into paradise? Knowing that she wants YOU and want to give herself to you. Like the veil of Isis, she lifts the veil of mystery, initiating you into the deepest secrets of herself, removing the powerful, muscular guards before the opening and invites you in…to experience, to partake in an almost mystical experience. And if you doubted in any way that it wasn’t possible, that such a stunning creature could never be that into you, then seeing her engorged clitoris, begging you to explore, should remove any doubts from your mind.
Problem is…it took me a long time to learn to control myself when with her…for such devastating beauty, such visual overload, never failed to make me lose all  self control with her…in seconds…

I tear my eyes away from her middle and force them back to her face…so serene and peaceful, so beautiful…but I know the terrible determination that could fill those features when you walk into your temple of muscle, strip down to your leotard and slip under heavy weights to churn out repetition after repetition. The fierce light in your eyes as you lift heavy weights hour after hour, with almost military precision in every movement, over and over, muscles swollen with effort, until it seems that something will split and rip itself from your body; relentlessly without a break or a pause. A perpetual machine … The strength and stamina just stuns the mind. One can just stand in awe of your golden beauty, skin stretching like thin membrane over hills and valleys of pure muscle and veins. Marvel at the dedication…
“It’s what I am,” you once said, “ I can’t explain it to somebody..what I feel like when I touch the weights, when I see my muscles move and grow…like a fish takes to water…this is my element, my passion, I feel alive…I don’t need drugs or enhancements, what you see is all natural, just diet and nutrition and very heavy training…ok I admit that in the beginning I did use something to get me going, but I soon discovered that I didn’t need that at all.”
“It helps me think when I workout….I’ve done a lot of thinking over the years,as you can see...”

And then that devastating smile…

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