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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  My Type of Woman
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Author Topic: My Type of Woman  (Read 23940 times)

Offline JohnAubrey

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My Type of Woman
« on: November 18, 2022, 07:15:43 pm »
Let me tell you about the type of woman who really turns me on: the shy, petite, creative type.

There’s something about a delicate, introverted woman who is nonetheless intelligent and accomplished that makes my heart beat faster. You can keep your slutty bimbos; I prefer gamine musicians, elfin academics and mousy authors. 

You know the type of woman I mean: the type that will spend contented evenings knitting comfy Scandi-style jumpers in her reading nook as she sips on a mug of hot chocolate.

A well-spoken, cultured, feminine woman with her thick, dark hair cut in a French bob; a woman with a well-stocked bookshelf and a Criterion blu-ray collection; a woman who can write poetry in Latin and who plays the piano.

The type of woman you meet at arthouse cinemas, book festivals and concert halls.

The type of woman who almost certainly has a boyfriend, fiancé or husband who is kind, caring and considerate; and who is probably also a vegan who considers himself to be a feminist.

And just as you know the type of woman, you also know the type of man I’m talking about: the type that’s just begging to be cucked.

I am nothing like any of these women that make me uncontrollably horny. I am even less like the pathetic men they love.

My name is Emma. I’m 6’2” tall, I weigh 215lb, and I love my bulging muscles almost as much as I love fucking shy, petite, creative women senseless.

Maybe you know my type?

Maybe you just wish you did.
I'm currently (very slowly) writing the following stories, all of which can be found on this forum:

Undercover
Body Swap
My Type of Woman
April Fool's

Forum Saradas

My Type of Woman
« on: November 18, 2022, 07:15:43 pm »

Offline PleaseForgiveMe

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #1 on: November 18, 2022, 07:59:51 pm »
Intriguing start. Eager to see more. :rock:

Offline Jaguar

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #2 on: November 18, 2022, 08:29:25 pm »
Intriguing start !
* You are the author and you are the boss of your story!
* Take your time and write what you are driven to write and what your characters drive you to write.
* The story is the journey, and when the journey is over, we will all wish it was longer.

Offline Dona Fell Friz

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #3 on: November 19, 2022, 01:24:47 pm »
Let the games begin!

Offline JohnAubrey

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #4 on: November 20, 2022, 11:01:21 pm »
The point of my stiletto heel pressed into his testicles as he lay spreadeagled on the floor. By now all the fight had been beaten out of him and it was all he could do to whimper in pain.

His girlfriend, naked, on all fours and wearing a dog collar, watched him in silence; I could see her pussy dripping like a leaking tap.

I pulled on her lead and she eagerly spun round to face me.

“You can make all of this stop. I will leave right now. I will not touch you, or him, again. You just have to do one, simple little thing…”

I removed my foot from his crushed balls and started to shake my quad, a mass of muscle billowing back and forth, seemingly out of control, until I stomped my foot down and my thigh snapped to a standstill and solidified like concrete, veins and striations traversing the surface of my leg.

“... All you have to do is tell me you don’t want to worship this.”

In other words, it was a pretty standard Tuesday night.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I should probably explain this particular ménage à trois, because Jules et Jim this ain't.
I'm currently (very slowly) writing the following stories, all of which can be found on this forum:

Undercover
Body Swap
My Type of Woman
April Fool's

Offline jhunter

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #5 on: November 24, 2022, 12:58:44 am »
Hm, slow burn. Hope to see more soon.

Offline crow004

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #6 on: November 24, 2022, 02:46:39 pm »
Oh, this is really good!

Offline Noswal

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #7 on: November 25, 2022, 04:51:44 am »
Promising, we’ll see!
So many women, So little time!! :)

Offline jhunter

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #8 on: November 26, 2022, 12:40:07 am »
This is cute. Hope to see more soon.

Offline JohnAubrey

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #9 on: November 29, 2022, 11:41:05 pm »
Where to start?

Maybe with him? The guy sobbing and broken on the floor? Hang on, no, that’s not a good idea: I didn’t even catch his name before I broke his nose and a few of his ribs. All I know about him is that he’s a whiney areshole. Oh, and that he’s her boyfriend.

So maybe I should start with her? The girl who tore her own clothes off when I promised to show her mine if she would show me hers? The girl currently on her hands and knees, squirming and rubbing her thighs together to try and get herself off as she stares at my freakishly muscular body?

Yeah, let’s start with her. She’s Ophelia, and she’s brilliant: PhD funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council, a BBC New Generation Thinker, and a fellow at All Souls College, Oxford, all by the age of 25. She just so happens to be beautiful, too - and the absolute spit of Audrey Tautou at the same age.

And that very evening she had been celebrating the publication of her third book, a monograph analysing Truffaut’s film criticism in Cahiers du cinéma.

I know, because I gatecrashed the launch party. That’s how we met, actually. All of, oh, an hour ago, I think. Time flies when you’re having fun.

It’s funny to think how aloof and distracted she was when I first approached her at the party to ask her to sign my copy of her book. She was totally uninterested in me right up until I took off my coat and suddenly I had her full attention. I knew there and then she wouldn’t be able to resist me.

“So what’s it going to be, Ophelia? I don’t have all day.”

I made great play of raising my arm to look at my smartwatch, flexing my bicep and rolling my wrist as I did so. Hell, even I was impressed by how beefy and powerful my arm looked - what chance did Ophelia have? Still on all fours, her body shuddered with her first orgasm of the evening, and I wasn’t even touching her yet.

Yet...

“I think we both know what you want.”

I extended my leg and moved my foot back towards her boyfriend’s testicles, already turning unhealthy shades of black and blue. Black and blue balls. After tonight, as far as his relationship with Ophelia went, he would never be enough for her again. He would have blue balls forever.

He saw my foot coming and tried to curl up into a protective ball. Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten about his broken ribs. He spasmed almost as impressively as his girlfriend just had, but without any of the pleasure she had experienced.   

Pain was all he would know tonight.   

This time though, as my stiletto lightly touched his testicles, I held my leg in the air, resisting the urge to press down with any weight.

I think he thought I’d taken pity on him. How wrong he was.

“How about this, Ophelia: you have ten minutes to hump my leg, like the horny little bitch you are. Imagine how these muscles would feel between your thighs. Imagine how good it would feel to have this big, hard quad pressing into your pink little pussy. Imagine how it would feel to have something this massive and this powerful rubbing against your clit.”

She crouched on the floor, staring up at me wide-eyed and nodding, gently at first but then more and more emphatically.

“There’s just one thing you need to bear in mind: every time you press your moist little pussy up against my rock-hard muscles, well, your weight is going to cause me to press my heel down into your boyfriend’s balls. Your ecstasy will cause him agony. Do you want that, Ophelia? Do you want to worship my muscles that badly?”

“Pl-please, Ophelia… No… You can’t…” he pleaded, through his sobs.

Ophelia must have heard him begging, but she didn’t acknowledge him; instead she stared in wonderment at my thigh, her fantasies running wild.

I flexed my extended leg a little, just enough to make my muscles jump. Not for her benefit - I knew she wasn’t capable of resisting me - but for his: I had already asserted my dominance, but I enjoyed vaunting my power.

I almost envied him his view of me right then, as I towered over him, my muscles bulging and rippling at will. I must have looked spectacular.

And terrifying.
I'm currently (very slowly) writing the following stories, all of which can be found on this forum:

Undercover
Body Swap
My Type of Woman
April Fool's

Offline crow004

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #10 on: December 01, 2022, 02:55:34 am »
OMG.... This is insanely good!

Offline JohnAubrey

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #11 on: December 14, 2022, 11:28:23 pm »
Two hours ago, I watched Ophelia as she stood at the front of an auditorium and gave a speech to celebrate the launch of her new book. She was dressed smartly in a chic sapphire blue suit, a deliberately oversized blazer paired with tailored wide-legged trousers. Underneath the blazer she wore a Girls on Tops white T-shirt, printed with the name of director Céline Sciamma in simple black font.

With at least two hundred people present to hear her talk, Ophelia spoke quietly but confidently, and without relying on any notes. She was composed, funny and engaging - not to mention self-effacing and generous, lavishing praise on her academic colleagues and her editor. In the Q&A at the end of her address, she answered several lengthy, detailed questions in flawless French.

The audience was spellbound, and not because Ophelia was young, attractive and stylish - she had charmed them all with her wit, modesty and erudition instead.

I couldn’t wait to be inside her.

I was still watching Ophelia now, but the circumstances were different, to say the least: there was no auditorium; no audience of two hundred; no fashionable clothing.

No clothing at all.

Ophelia was naked, on all fours, and reaching up to caress my quad with her delicate hands. She seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Her mouth hung open as she panted, her tongue lolling. She had been reduced to little more than a feral animal by her muscle-lust.

I guess the moral of the story is: never skip leg day.

Still, it was kind of a shame about the suit. It had looked expensive. Once I had whispered my indecent proposal into Ophelia’s ear, she had barely been able to wait and had slipped out of the blazer there and then, abandoning it on the foyer floor as members of the crowd looked on, unsure what was happening.

As Ophelia had heard my proposition, I had watched her nipples instantly harden and grow erect; as we headed for the exit together they poked through the thin material of her T-shirt, her state of arousal impossible for anyone to miss.

Ophelia had discarded her trousers in the car park; the T-shirt had come off as we drove to her house; and she had dropped her silk knickers to the pavement as she got out of the car.

Before we walked up to her front door, I slipped the dog collar around her neck. She stood there, silent and submissive, shivering either with the cold or anticipation. Or both.

“Good girl,” I had said. “Now, heel.”
I'm currently (very slowly) writing the following stories, all of which can be found on this forum:

Undercover
Body Swap
My Type of Woman
April Fool's

Offline jhunter

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #12 on: December 15, 2022, 01:21:11 am »
Hm, nice turn of events. Nice detail, but could use a bit more. Good luck on more.

Offline pd11

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #13 on: December 15, 2022, 03:31:21 pm »
Really enjoying this story. Love the dominance, great work.

Offline JohnAubrey

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Re: My Type of Woman
« Reply #14 on: December 15, 2022, 06:44:36 pm »
As I looked down at Ophelia I wondered how much of the book launch she could even remember at this point. The thoughtful academic with a knack for communication had gone, replaced by a creature of impulse and desire. Her monomaniacal obsession with my man-shaming muscles had consumed her entirely.

I mean, who could blame her?

The metal couplings on the dog lead rattled as Ophelia slowly stood up.

The broken little sissy boy on the carpet started to cry again, not because of the physical pain this time but because he realised how far gone his kind, beautiful, loving girlfriend was now.

As far as Ophelia was concerned, he had ceased to exist. She eagerly climbed onto my outstretched thigh - so obscenely massive that she had to swing her right leg over my thick quad like she was mounting a horse - and settled herself against my muscles. I could already feel how wet she was.

My leg was so strong that I could have borne her entire weight easily, but where would be the fun in that?

I stayed relaxed and let her weight push my leg down, my stiletto sinking into his scrotum. He choked and moaned in agony.

Ophelia was moaning too, still behaving like an animal in the grip of a frenzy. Her head hung back and her eyes were wild and unfocussed as she started to furiously hump my muscles, rubbing her pussy up and down my thigh. I could feel her lips parting over the fat, squirming veins and deep, coursing striations in my quads.

A frisson ran through her slight body as the stimulation began to overwhelm her. Unable to even stand upright anymore, she crouched and hunched over, the better to focus her energy on furiously pounding her pussy into me. She half-collapsed and flung her arms around my waist, her small, perky breasts pressing into me, her diamond nipples rubbing against my rock-hard abs.

And with each and every frenetic thrust of her crotch, my leg pressed down and up again and my stiletto beat a tattoo on his balls.

Ophelia didn’t last the ten minutes I had promised her - her low moan became higher-pitched and wavered hysterically and she started to convulse, clamping her thighs tightly together, her soft, pert flesh moulding itself around my unyielding brawn.

I laughed. If the roles had been reversed, I would have snapped her femur - not that I would ever want to hurt one of my debauched little muscle-whores, not when there was so much fun to be had with them.

Time to give her a taste of what I could do with just one flex.

I squeezed my quad hard. My vastus lateralis and vastus medialis each bulged outwards, forcing her legs back apart; my rectus femoris punched upwards and into her clitoris, and as my muscles swelled and hardened against her, Ophelia had no other option: she came.

Ophelia came hard and she came extravagantly, squirting a stream of her juices down my leg. I raised my thigh higher off the ground, a shuddering Ophelia still straddling it, and pointed my toes. Ophelia’s mess ran down my shin, dripped from my foot and spattered onto his chest.

He didn’t notice: he had passed out. What a fucking loser. Probably the one time his girlfriend had ever had an orgasm when they were together in a room and he wasn’t even awake to see it.

Oh well, he’d have plenty of other opportunities to watch his girlfriend in ecstasy tonight. I would make sure of that much.

I stroked Ophelia’s hair.

“Good girl, Ophelia. Now, I want you to go and look in my coat pocket. I’ve got a present for you.”
I'm currently (very slowly) writing the following stories, all of which can be found on this forum:

Undercover
Body Swap
My Type of Woman
April Fool's

Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  My Type of Woman
 

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