(Continued)
She giggled and took another sip, innocently. “Sorry. Too forward?”
“Um, what are we talking about?”
“What have we been talking about? Good question. While we initially picked up our where we left off outside the restaurant, since I took my coat off you’ve been a little…distracted.” She laughed as she said this.
I felt my cheeks become very, very hot. I felt my vision start to tunnel. The embarrassment and shame that I had previously felt I had successfully compartmentalized broke out and came rushing back to the forefront and started to overwhelm me, shutting me down.
Lorie gave me a pained look, then reached over the table and touched my hand, “Oh my god! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad! I was trying to be sassy…but I think I came across insensitive.”
I looked down at her hand and took her fingers in mine in a gentle grasp. I couldn’t help but notice that even her fingers looked very strong. She had feminine accents on her hands thanks to delicately manicured fingernails, and she wore a finely banded ruby ring on her right ring finger and thin band on her thumb. These accoutrements were a contrast to the thickly calloused palms I could feel and conspicuous ropey veins that snaked over the back of her hands and up her wrists before becoming obscured, but not invisible, beneath the fabric of her light sweater’s sleeves. I registered the size difference between our forearms as she held my hand and I could make a direct comparison.
I looked up into her eyes and she was genuinely concerned and apologetic about what she had just said. She looked from side to side and lowered her voice, “Don’t worry about it, please…let’s talk about it. I could just tell, almost right away when I took off my coat, but it became clear to me through dinner. You were just not really engaged in our conversation anymore. You couldn’t stop staring at my body.”
She squeezed gently and then let go when she was confident I didn’t need that physical connection anymore.
I swallowed to try to get moisture back into my mouth, again. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a raspy sound, “I was that obvious, huh?” I was nearly whispering, still embarrassed, but her expression had helped to disarm me a bit. I felt a weight of secrecy I had held for so very long lessen slightly. I was struck how there was suddenly another person in the world that happened to know what I held inside, even if I let them in on the secret unintentionally.
Lorie smiled, “Well, kinda... I’m aware of some things now that I was not before. Like any woman, I’ve been used to attention from men my entire life, but things started to change when I got into bodybuilding. I found that as I got bigger, my muscles were something that repelled a lot of guys…my husband, for instance. I understood that, and accepted it. It didn’t bother me. What I didn’t fully grasp, until my look started to change and my body became more, well, extreme, was that it was intensely attractive to other men. I found that my muscles were desirable to some guys in a way that was very, very powerful.”
I sipped the bourbon, finally tasting it for real, as my heart rate started to drop and I was able to finally center and engage Lorie as my friend again…albeit in a strange new way. We were establishing a connection that I never could have fathomed possible maybe two hours ago. How long had we been out? I felt as if it had been weeks since I was that guy walking around with my normal, slender, dancer friend in the cold before she took off that coat and my entire world tilted on its axis.
She continued after taking another sip of her drink, “I didn’t fully appreciate this at first. Eventually, I learned about the fetish angle. For some guys, the muscle was the thing that did it for them. They liked the look and hardness…they couldn’t get enough of how the muscle itself felt. Others like the strength; being lifted and carried, or being pushed around, emasculated.”
“Your ex-husband…”
Lorie laughed and finished her drink, studying the empty glass, “Uh, no. He was not one of those guys. Not at all. He couldn’t handle it. Once I was bigger and stronger than him, he stopped finding me attractive. There were other things going on, like I said. I think there always are a lot of factors in a relationship that ends. As I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t going to stop for him, but it was sad that it got between us.”
“Hmm…sorry.”
“It’s fine. So…tell me about you. Are you comfortable talking about it?”
“Not really.”
“Why not? We’re friends. We go back forever…we’ve talked about so many things. You can talk to me.”
“This is different. Seriously.”
“I see. It’s not, you know, but I think I get it.” She waived to our waitress and did an imaginary scribble on her bare palm with her other hand to signify that she wanted the check. Her biceps danced at the casual gesture. The guy at the table next to us noticed, too.
“You’re not alone, you know.”
I smiled and finished my drink.
She leaned in. “That guy behind you can’t get enough of me. He’s been staring at me all night. There’s a guy in the back corner over there, too. His wife, or girlfriend, or whoever he’s here with, is pissed. I bet she knows about his thing for muscle women and she never expected that there would be one here to ruin their date.” She smiled wickedly, “Watch…”
She reached up and put her hand into her thick hair, then reached up with her other hand and produced a hair band. She proceeded to pull her hair back into a pony tail, working the stray strands together methodically with her hands. The motion put the muscles in her shoulders and biceps on full display, causing them to explode repeatedly as she worked the hair into the pony tail. She was taking much longer to do this than I suspected was necessary, causing her biceps to contract and swell eight to ten times. It drove me crazy, instantly bringing my hardness back below the table. Other men and women openly stared at her. The man in the corner with his date, who I could see now, gaped openly. His girl looked over her shoulder, steaming, but he seemed to not care…unwilling to miss this opportunity to watch a female bodybuilder show off her arms in public right before him. I bet he was dying to be in my seat. Lorie looked at me and continued the mischievous smile, then proceeded to flex her biceps gratuitously twice more as she simply paused her hands on the now completed pony tail, clearly just putting on a brief but overt show for anyone in the room who cared to watch.
The waitress showed up and looked between us for a clue as to where to place the check. Lorie gestured that she’d take it and motioned for the woman to stay as she quickly glanced over the bill, barely reading it, then dropping her corporate card on it and so she could take it.
“That was…” I couldn’t get myself to say it.
“Pretty hot? Those guys thought so. She did over there, too. You liked it?”
I smiled awkwardly.
“Seriously, don’t be ashamed. It’s cool. It’s your thing. Everyone has a thing.”
The waitress returned with the card and looked to both of us, “Thank you for joining us tonight. I hope you have a great night.” She paused, “By the way, I just want to say that you look absolutely amazing. Your arms have been the talk of the kitchen.”
Lorie smiled at her, “Aw, you’re sweet. Thanks so much.”
A different young man arrived with our coats as we stood. I saw three of the busboys near the doorway to the kitchen watching him help Lorie work her massive arms into her coat. The boy that received the honor of the coat duty was clearly seizing his opportunity to study Lorie’s physique at close range as she moved in front of him. I caught an ever-so-slight glance back at his buddies. Lorie seemed oblivious, but given her sixth sense about the rest of the restaurant patrons, I suspected this was a projected obliviousness rather than the real thing.
As we were walking out of the restaurant, I realized how unsteady I was. My head was swimming, as I clearly had not been fully aware of the volume of alcohol I had had to drink. The bourbon was definitely not needed. I started to say that I was going to have to get a ride and figure out how to get my car later, but just as I was opening my mouth, Lorie unexpectedly grasped my hand.
“My hotel is just around the corner. Why don’t you come up for a bit? I think we should catch-up a little more now. We have some new stuff to talk about now.”
An alarm went off in my head. Getting invited to my old friend’s hotel room to keep visiting was no big deal, or shouldn’t have been, but things were suddenly quite different between us. Her physicality, my fetish, her awareness of my fetish, my awareness of her awareness…
“Um, I don’t know.”
She giggled, “I suppose I made that sound like a question, because I was being polite. You shouldn’t drive now, and I want to see you for a bit longer. My room has a pull-out bed, so you can crash there tonight if you need to. You have somewhere to be?”
“No.”
“Excellent, let’s go.”
She continued to hold my hand out the door, and I felt so many pairs of eyes on us as we exited the restaurant. She got this all the time? It was strange to be such a focus of people’s attention out in public. How did she deal with this?
As we walked out the door, she took my arm in hers and walked close to me, strangely intimate. It was a little surreal to have my friend snuggled up to me in this way. She was suddenly behaving more like a girlfriend, although I guess it wasn’t that abnormal. I definitely felt a new connection between us. My secret of my sexual taste, buried for so long, never shared with anyone, was not a secret anymore. The world almost seemed different as I now had someone else in this circle with me. A good friend, no less, that seemed able to accept it. I didn’t know how to deal with this new reality. It didn’t seem like it should be a big deal, but it was. I glanced down at Lorie, and now saw how she filled that winter coat. The bulk that I thought was all from the coat was now clearly created by the physique beneath it.
We entered the hotel lobby and the few staff members smiled mildly at us. I grew unexpectedly hot as I felt them watch me walking in with this woman. For some reason, I had the sensation that they knew what was under that coat she was wearing, and that meant that they also knew what was in my head as I walked intimately with her to the elevator that would take us up to her room. In my mind, they were putting together a scandalous narrative to explain what I was doing in this hotel with this muscular woman. Again, I felt exposed in a way I had never felt before. My deepest secret written in neon lights on a sign above my head. I tried to shake this sensation off, but I couldn’t do it.
We rode the elevator to her floor and she again took my hand and led me to her room, sliding the key card into the key slot. She hung her coat, again impressing me as her massive upper body was re-revealed in the room’s hallway, as if I had forgotten the magnitude of her physique during the 10 minute walk from the restaurant. Perhaps the change in surroundings of the small hallway provided a new perspective, but she seemed even bigger to me now. The span of her shoulders clearly dwarfed my own. She hung my coat and I again watched the cap of her shoulder swell as she lifted the hanger. I seemed to be able to make out the distinct heads of her deltoid musculature at this close range, and I marveled at the fact that I could see the rippling striations in her shoulder through the fabric of the sweater. She managed to catch my eye and follow my gaze to her shoulder, giving me a knowing smirk but said nothing. She took my hand again and led me over to a sitting area next to a small kitchenette in the room. I sat in an arm chair, while she sat down on the couch.
“So. I apologize again for being too forward before, but I really do want to talk about, um, your thing.”
“My thing? Oh, my fetish?”
“I wanted to steer clear of the word, because I thought it might make you uncomfortable, but yes…your fetish. How long have you had it?”
My mouth was suddenly dry again, but I worked some saliva back so I could speak, “As long as I can remember. When I was a kid I would sneak out to buy magazines with women bodybuilders in them and spend hours looking at them.”
“Just looking, eh?”
I felt the heat come to my face, “Uh, well…”
She laughed out loud, “Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re a guy, I know what you were doing. You forgetting who you’re talking to here?”
She was right. We grew up together, and when we were younger we talked a lot. Despite the fact that she was a girl and I was a boy, we had had a lot of discussions about sex as we were growing up, driven by our youthful curiosities.
“Yeah. Magazines at first, then the internet, of course,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Of course. The internet has been a godsend for unique tastes. It turns out there is a lot of content out there with some really nice looking muscle women. I’ve looked at a lot of it, too.”
God she was cool about this, “Seriously?”
“I’m human, I like sex, too. When I watch porn, it turns out I also like watching guys with muscle chicks. I particularly like it when the woman is bigger and more developed than the guy. Is that what you like, just regular sex?”
I suddenly pictured her watching a porn video featuring a muscular woman and felt a rush at the thought that we shared the same taste in our erotica, “Well, it doesn’t even have to be sex. I just like watching women that are…you know…posing and flexing. I love to see them show-off their muscles. The movement of the muscles, the control over their bodies, I guess. I also like to watch them working out, or even just walking around in public.”
“I see. You’re into the muscle. The sight of them…the idea of all that muscle on a woman is pretty exciting, huh?”
“Yeah.”
She squinted a bit, “You know, we women aren’t supposed to be so big and strong. It is kind of weird.” She was teasing me.
“Tell me about it. And dudes aren’t supposed to be turned on by it!”
She laughed, “And yet here we are. Any clue where it came from? My perspective is different, since I started to pursue this as a way to feel good about myself, and I found the transformation in my body empowering. I find that possessing such physical power as a woman creates something unique and compelling in this world. I like to stand out. As I’ve developed my physique, I have found the look to be an attractive, preferable form for a woman to attain. I mean, muscles are sexy, whether they are on a man or a woman.”
“I wish I knew where it came from. I remember seeing, long ago, women bodybuilders would be on TV here and there. Maybe on a talk show, or a competition on ESPN. I thought it was strange, and remembered feeling a shock that a woman could look like that and have muscles like a man. While my mind wrestled with that concept, I found that it fascinated me and I would continue to think about it long afterwards. When I was younger, before I was old enough to actually be ‘turned on’ about it, I would draw pictures of women that were bigger and stronger than a nearby man. I didn’t know what I was drawing or why, but that’s what was in my mind that I wanted to represent. God, I remember showing these pictures to my parents like any little kid proud of something they created…I am just now remembering that. I was too young to be embarrassed to realize I was strange to have this particular thing fascinate me. I wonder what my parents thought about it.”
Lorie smiled at me, “I find it funny that we were good friends all this time, and we shared so much, but you never even gave me a hint. Tell me, do you like domination? Displays of strength? Girls lifting guys and carrying them around?”
“Not necessarily. I like the idea of women being bigger and stronger than a typical man. That’s a turn on. I’m not really into them using that in some way to dominate or humiliate. Lifting is kind of cool, but not really my thing.” I paused, should I keep going? “I guess I like idea of muscle worship, you know?”
She smiled again, knowingly, “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
I continued, feeling a little bolder, “When a woman, well, presents her muscles to someone…a man or even another woman…for them to admire. I think that’s really hot. I like when she allows them to experience her muscular body for their pleasure…when she knows that is what they like and she can offer it to them. That really, uh, does it for me.”
“I take it you’ve never had a chance to experience this yourself.”
“In person? No. I’ve never been around a woman who was a bodybuilder…at least not before tonight.”
“Have you ever told anyone about this?”
“No.”
She suddenly looked at me seriously, “Really? No one? Not a guy during ‘locker room talk,’ or a girlfriend? No one?”
“Nope. It has been a secret I’ve guarded very carefully.”
“Not even you mom?”
“OK, now you’re making this weird. It wasn’t weird before, but it is now.” I smiled at her.
She snorted as she laughed at this. She always used to do that when she laughed. I suddenly saw a flashback to so many late nights sitting with my friend having open conversations about whatever was on our minds. I felt comfortable, despite her new look. She was my childhood friend again.
“So nobody has ever known…hmm.”
“Well, a girlfriend of mine in college once found one of my bodybuilding magazines in my dorm room when we were hanging out. I was mortified, but I remember letting it play out for a bit to try to figure out what she thought of it…maybe that would have been my first opportunity to disclose myself to someone. Unfortunately, she started flipping through it, looking at the men and women inside, and was grossed out. She was particularly disparaging about the women, saying how awful they looked, wondering why they’d do that to themselves. Obviously I lied and said it was my roommate’s magazine and that he had totally weird tastes in women, pretending like I felt the same way as her about it.”
Lorie nodded, “Sure, I get it. You remember that time I found those Playboy magazines in my brother’s room? I snuck them into my room and we looked at them together for hours.”
I remembered this very well.
“Just think if you had told me then. What were we, twelve or thirteen years old at that time? What if you would have said, ‘yeah, these girls are hot, but what I really like it girls that look like this,’ then you pulled out a Women’s Physique World to show me some hot muscle girls?”
“You know that magazine?”
“Of course I know it. The internet put it out of business, but I know it existed. Hardly any magazines were made just to feature female bodybuilders. All of us in the sport know about it.”
“That would have been something I never would have been comfortable doing. Even now, this is pretty strange to be talking about so openly.”
“After suppressing this for so long, I’m sure it is.”
I had a sudden memory burst into my head, “You know, I had a dream about you once. I dreamt that you actually were a bodybuilder. We were in high school, and you showed up to school wearing your dance team uniform, but you were huge. I had forgotten about this.”
“Was it a wet dream?” She laughed.
Little did she know that I did enough ‘preventative maintenance’ to avoid wet dreams, “Uh, no. I don’t know where that came from. You know how dreams are.”
“Who could have thought that it was a premonition? Apparently you could see into the future.”
“It is surreal to see you here now…with this body.”
“So, what do you think of it?” With this, she lifted both arms and did a double front biceps pose while sitting there on the couch, looking at me the entire time. This was the first time she had hit an actual pose in my presence, and I was speechless. I thought I had gotten a sense of the size of her biceps before, but I clearly had not. They swelled into massive, round balls, stretching the thin sweater material. I could make out the outline of her pectorals where they tied into her shoulders. I could see the head of her triceps and the mass of her forearm. She held her hands in a fist, in a proper bodybuilding fashion.
I couldn’t speak. Apparently I didn’t have to. She smiled and said, “I think I got my answer.”
She put her arms down, resting them in her lap. I watched her pecs move beneath the sweater, even though she wasn’t consciously flexing them.
“I had no idea about you. How could I, of course? I have been with several men who had a fetish like yours since I left my husband. Let me tell you, the way you feel is not unique. There are a ton of guys out there that like women with very big muscles.”
“Oh yeah?” Clearly I knew this intellectually, but it was somehow different to hear a woman confirm this from firsthand experience.
“Oh yeah! It’s cool. I would be in a pretty lonely world if I couldn’t get the attention of the opposite sex.”
“I suppose that it true.”
“So, you’ve had this sexual desire your entire life, but you have never been able to experience what it is like to actually feel a woman’s muscles. A woman with the kind of body you dream about.”
“Well, no.”
“You know that there are a lot of female bodybuilders out there that meet up with men for this sort of thing.”
I blushed, “Oh, I know. I couldn’t ever quite muster the courage to consider setting up a session like that.”
She nodded, “Yeah, a ‘session.’ I see you are aware of this. I can understand how you might not be able to bring yourself to arrange one, though.
It isn’t for everybody.”
I was suddenly curious, “Did you ever do this? Do you, um, meet with guys…and…”
She laughed, “I’ve never done a session, no, but I’ve several of the guys that I have dated were into this. I have found that nearly every guy I’ve been with since my divorce has had some level of attraction to my muscles. Some of them were into other things related to my strength, like wrestling or lifting. Some guys wanted me to actually beat them up.”
“Uh, did you?”
She busted out laughing, “I’m not into beating anyone up, so I never did that. When I’m with someone I want to make them happy and please them, if they tell me what turns them on and it is something I’m comfortable doing, I’m game to play. That’s part of being intimate with someone in my book. I just am not really comfortable being violent with someone, so we’d find another way to fulfill that need. Maybe we’d wrestle to a point where it would be clear that I could kick their ass if we continued, but we’d stop there. Many guys would find this satisfying. If that wasn’t enough, I’d usually chalk that up to a sexual incompatibility and we’d both move on.”
I was rapt…and I was deeply jealous of these guys that were so self-assured that they could explain to a woman exactly what they wanted like this. That they could be so open was just such a foreign concept to me after a lifetime hiding my fetish from everyone in my life. Perhaps when you were involved with a woman like Lorie, a bodybuilder herself, there was no need to be guarded or to hide a fetish like that.
“So, would you like to feel mine?”
Wait, what? The hardness was also back in my pants…fiercely. “Sorry, what do you mean?”
She looked at me seriously, not laughing or joking. “Would you like a chance to feel my muscles? You’ve never been able to experience a female bodybuilder, and here you are in a hotel room with one. One that you’ve known your entire life, in fact.”
“Uh, Lorie. We’re friends since forever. That would be weird.” This was what I said, but I wanted this intensely. I wanted to feel her muscles since the moment she took her coat off in the restaurant and I recognized what she had become. The window for me to do this without it being a sexual thing was long since closed after all we had just shared. She was my childhood friend, we had shared an essentially platonic relationship our entire lives. While it was true that she was my sister or anything, there was still a line there that I had never considered crossing that we were now toeing and I wasn’t sure what to think about it.
It was like she was reading my mind, “Why would this be weird? You have a desire to experience a very particular thing, and it just so happens that I possess it. I’m a consenting adult. I’m not married, or even dating, so it isn’t like either of us would be cheating on anyone. There is no reason that we can’t do this.”
I was kind of panicking. Was this happening? Could we really do this? Could I actually experience this lifelong dream, right here, tonight? I felt an overwhelming urge to accept the offer, swamping the fear of breaking this physical intimacy barrier between me and my friend was terrifying, but simultaneously electrifying.
She smiled at me, “Ryan. Remember our first kiss? Neither of us had ever kissed anyone and we were curious about the experience. It was nice, and it didn’t make our relationship weird back then. Is this all that different? You deserve this experience. I can offer it. You’re one of my closest friends. I see no issue.”
“I just, never would have considered us doing anything…sexual.” That was true, but it was also true that at this moment it was all I could think about to get a chance to touch her body.
“Well, sure, maybe before we had this conversation that was the case, but circumstances have changed. I see it like this: one of my oldest, best friends has a desire for something that would give him intense pleasure, and I can provide it. I want to fulfill this need for you. You don’t need to worry about how this might affect us. I’m incredibly comfortable with you, and I hope you are comfortable enough with me to take me up on my offer.”
When I woke up this morning, I had no idea that I’d be in this situation later that night. How could I have imagined that my childhood friend was now a massively muscular female bodybuilder that would suddenly appear in my life and offer to fulfill a fantasy I’ve had my entire life. My palms were sweating, despite Lorie’s best effort to put me at ease.
I could not pass this opportunity. I swallowed, “OK.”
Lorie beamed. “Wonderful. Can I get you anything?”
Both the dryness in my mouth and the hardness in my pants had returned with a vengeance, “I…I don’t think so. Like what?”
She laughed, “You seem a little nervous, I thought maybe a drink from the mini-bar, but we’re both pretty liquored up right now already. If you’re good, let’s jump right in!”
Before I could offer any protest, or have cold feet, Lorie stood up from the couch and proceeded to move a small coffee table out of the space directly in front of my chair. She picked it up and moved it aside with barely any effort.
“I’ve found that some men actually enjoy the sight of large muscles through a tight shirt.” She turned to face me, “Are you one of them?” She formally hit another front double biceps pose while standing there, looking directly into my eyes as she did so. Her lads spread out magnificently and her large biceps swelled. “Do you like that? It is kind of a tease for what lies beneath.”
“Oh my god...”
“Good. You do like this.” She extended her arms and retracted them back into the flexing pose, then proceeded to repeat it over and over. I watched the muscles tighten and change shape into the hardened balls. I could make out the contours of her muscle through the light colored fabric, and I could now see how the fibers of the sweater stretched as the muscle expanded beneath. The sweater had enough stretch to accommodate, but I was fascinated by the dynamic effect of the muscle moving the fabric that covered it. I wondered if the maker of this clothing ever pictured it on a woman built like Lorie, who could make it behave like this.
Lorie moved closer to me and proceeded to flex her right biceps closer to me, perhaps a foot from my face. She reached out with her left hand and grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand toward her arm.
“Feel.”
She put my hand on the flexed biceps muscle. This was my first time ever feeling a woman flex a muscle for me. She was doing this just for me, knowing full well the effect it would have on me. I almost felt an electricity pass through my fingertips as they met the hardness of her muscle.
While I logically knew what to expect, the sensation was more powerful than I anticipated. I obviously expected to feel the hardness, but I was utterly shocked by just how hard it really was. Her muscle was like granite. I had heard this cliché before watching videos of people doing exactly what I was doing, or reading female muscle fiction on the internet, but neither of these really prepared me for the actual experience. ‘Granite’ as a description seemed so trite, but it was also so incredibly correct. Lorie extended her arm and repeated the flex while I had my hand on her biceps, and I felt the muscle transform in my hand. My fingers splayed as the muscle filled my palm, taking up an unbelievable volume. I brought my other hand to the arm and tried to encompass the volume of her arm, unable to actually touch my fingers on each side. Lorie smiled warmly at me.
“Well, what do you think of your first time getting to touch a muscular woman?”
“Unbelievable. It is…sorry, you are so much harder than I expected.”
“Mmmm.”
I probed the arm, fully exploring the heads of her triceps now, which Lorie also managed to flex in alternating fashion with her biceps when she extended her arm. The muscle separations were so distinct, forming unbelievably hard crevices and ridges that were fascinating to me. I felt the mass of her deltoid muscle, feeling how the fibers danced as she held out her arm. She made the muscle ripple by twisting her arm slightly at the shoulder.
While my hand was exploring her shoulder, Lorie suddenly put her arm down and placed it on her hip. I kept my hand on her deltoid as she did so, captivated by the feel of the musculature operating below my fingertips. She pressed her hand into her hip, causing her trap and pectoral muscle to swell. I perceived my eyes widening as my hand was drawn to the mound of her trapezius muscle. While I probed at her trap and deltoid, my eyes were drawn to her pectoral muscle, which I could see harden under her command. I’m certain she hit this pose intentionally, knowing it would draw my attention. I suddenly wondered what the restrictions were. Was that area forbidden? She did not have any breast tissue, but it was obviously an erogenous zone, so I felt there was an invisible boundary between the region my hand was currently exploring and where my eyes now dwelled. I was unsure what was actually on the menu here.
Lorie’s apparent intuition was acute, it seems, because she grabbed my wrist with the hand that was not involved in the current pose and proceeded to move my hand from her shoulder area directly onto her flexed pectoral muscle. I looked her in the eye as she did this and she smiled warmly, clearly inviting me to enjoy myself. I probed the slab of muscle high up, at first, consciously avoiding the lower portion and an incidental contact with her nipples. I could feel the edges of her bra, and I wondered what function this undergarment served on her physique, since there was nothing soft that needed support here. Lorie relaxed her pec and reflexed for me and I again marveled at how massive and hard her muscle was. I tried to feel her pectoral edges with one hand, and I could feel the amazingly contoured ripples that spread from the deep muscular cleavage at the center of her chest.
As I caressed Lorie’s upper body while she flexed for me, I followed her other hand with my eyes as she reached to the bottom of her sweater and started to pull it up, exposing bare flesh for the first time. While my mind knew what to expect, it wrestled with the reality of what I began to see as the reveal began. I first saw the detailed ridges of her abdominals, unbelievably defined. She was sitting, like me, and my mind instantly began to compare the sensation of the soft, fleshy rolls of my stomach in my current position, to the flat, muscular physiology that I could see on her.
She had virtually no fat that I could see. Her obliques were pronounced as they angled into the front wall of blocky muscle of front abdominals?
I glanced up to see her watching me, still smiling. I was forced to take my hands off her torso for a moment as she needed both hands to fully remove the sweater, peeling it from her body. As she began to pull it over her head, I was delirious from the continued unveiling of her body. Her lats extended impossibly wide from her tiny waist. I could see the mass of them and reached out to cup each in one of my hands as she pulled the sweater off. I heard her giggle from behind the sweater as it passed over her face. Her arms became exposed as she completed the removal of the tight top over her huge arms.
She was wearing a white bra, simple and lacking any lace or other detailing, so it looked almost like a sports bra. Obviously, it had very little structure to it, since there was seemingly nothing to have to support. Her muscle structure was solid and entirely unperturbed by gravity. I saw now the raw details of her physique that I could only feel through the fabric of the sweater moments before. She was a physiology model before me. Every muscle was developed to immense proportion, distinct and separated. I could see tiny muscular details and striations that were visible on and around the large featured muscle groups. I took in the exquisite topology of ripples and bulges, tendons, and veins. While I had spent countless hours studying a never ending stream pictures and videos of different muscular women over the last few decades, it was as if I had never really seen them as I took in Lorie before me in this moment.
She was just so large. The sweater did not hide this, but with it now removed I could fully see just how developed her physique was. She was larger and more muscular than anyone I knew, I was absolutely certain about that. Even some of my male friends that lifted regularly would have killed to possess a body with the size and definition Lorie had attained. In addition to sheer size, the details were beyond comprehension. I again struggled with the fact that this was my childhood friend, formerly built like a svelte dancer, now transformed into this muscular human specimen.
I was certain a dedicated male bodybuilder would dwarf her. I didn’t know any male bodybuilders, though, and my gym didn’t have that kind of clientele, so in this moment with no such comparison, she was the most muscular person I had ever been around. My mind struggled with the fact that the most muscular person I had ever been around was a girl. That was not supposed to happen…girls were not supposed to look like this…girls were not supposed to be larger and stronger than men. I felt a surge of hardness in my pants at this concept, this incongruity, as it seemed to tap something central about what drove my fetish for women like her.
We had stopped the tactile worship session as Lorie sat demurely on the couch, allowing me to study her exposed physique. We hadn’t said anything, but she seemed to read that I was taking things in visually right now, so she simply waited and watched me as my eyes scanned over all of the now exposed flesh. After a few more moments, she positioned her hands just above her hips and proceeded to flare her lats, flexing her deltoids and contracting her pecs. I was particularly taken by the veins that emerged on her shoulders and even within her chest as she held the pose for a few moments.
“Well, how does it feel?”
I wasn’t touching her, so I gave her a puzzled expression, “Umm, what part?”
She smiled, “We can talk about how my body feels in a minute, if you like. I meant, how does it feel to open up and be yourself in the presence of another person? It isn’t a secret anymore, you know. Now I know about what you like, I’m an insider on your secret desire. How does it feel to be able to confide in somebody? To be honest. Now, when you’re around me, you get to be completely yourself and not have to act like something you are not.”
I got it. I stopped for a moment to fully assess how I felt. The change was indeed palpable. A barrier removed between me and the world…or maybe more like a window opened. Lorie looked at me and I could feel that she could see me in a way that no one else ever had.
There was something else: she didn’t judge me. She accepted me. I suddenly had incredible perspective on what it was that I was hiding by keeping this fetish buried so deeply. It was a fear of what other people would think that I had this intense attraction to something so atypical and different, that I was strange or broken. As Lorie looked at me, I was released from this shame. I took a deep breath and exhaled.
“It feels incredible. Like I’m finally…free.”
She smiled warmly, “That is a wonderful thing to hear.”
Her empathy about what this experience meant for me warmed me completely. We didn’t plan this, it was just a strange intersection of our lives that were here together in this moment. I wondered about the unlikely sequence of events that put us in this situation. It started off with the fact that my best childhood friend happened to be a girl, a bit unique in its own right, and we happened to grow very close only to become separated as teenagers. During our time apart, she independently chooses to pursue this particular endeavor to attain such a rare physicality, unwittingly becoming the embodiment of my deeply secret sexual fetish. Then, after such a remote probability of these two things happening, the even more unlikely event occurs where she reappears in my life, seeks me out, and we find ourselves in this present scenario.
It was as if the universe wanted this to occur.
She continued to smile, not bidding any more discussion from me. She proceeded to stand up and remove her pants, revealing a matching white set of panties that were cut high on her muscular hips. The fabric of the thong-style cut disappeared between the cheeks of her round butt. I looked at the pronounced mass of her thigh as it rippled before me while she worked the pants off of her huge calves and over her now bare feet. Her legs were powerful. I remembered Lorie’s legs very well as I had always admired the lean and toned shape of them after her many years of dancing, but her bodybuilding pursuits in the intervening years had produced a remarkable transformation consistent with that of her upper body. Her legs now were obviously a product of many, many hours in the gym expressly to achieve mass and definition.
I found myself wrestling to avoid gazing at her panty area directly, thinking that this was a line I shouldn’t cross despite the sexual nature of what we were doing. I was ultimately powerless to resist the urge to steal glances, though, as the endorphins rushing through me overpowered the higher level operations of my brain. My eyes wandered to look at her panties when she was turned toward me. Lorie said nothing, and she actually ran her fingers below the fabric of the underwear to reposition it slightly now that her pants were removed. Again, I felt a swell of hardness in my erection as I watched her do this. Since I was well versed in my knowledge of bodybuilding culture gained through countless hours of internet ‘research,’ I was fully aware that Lorie’s magnificent muscle development was achieved through the assistance of a number of chemical and hormonal supplements, and I knew there were telltale signs. Indeed, I could make out the characteristic bulge of her enlarged clitoris, standing out in some relief through the thin fabric of her underwear. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I perceived that Lorie knew exactly what I was looking at, yet she seemed not to mind and continued to stand before me for a moment without hiding anything from my gaze. She allowed me to continue my study of her fascinating anatomy at my pleasure.
I tore my gaze away from this mesmerizing sight with what felt like a tremendous effort of mental willpower to trace my gaze up to her abdominals and back to her torso, ultimately meeting Lorie’s smiling face as she watched me.
“Why don’t you stand up with me?”
I felt embarrassed by this prospect, as it would undoubtedly expose my raging erection, but Lorie took my hands and I was powerless to resist this invitation. She was presenting herself to me knowing full well that I was intensely aroused by her body, and as an adult woman she was obviously going to be fully aware of the physical effect this would produce, yet I was still flushed with a wave of embarrassment to expose my state around my friend. It was strange where the lines of intimacy were being constantly redrawn between us as this evening proceeded.
She was looking me in the eyes initially as I stood, but I watched her break her eye contact to look down at my crotch. I felt the fabric of my pants pulled tight.
“Ah, excellent. As if I had any doubts that you were enjoying this, now I know with certainty.”
She released my hands and proceeded to hit a front double biceps pose. I struggled to pick an arm to focus on, darting back and forth like I was at a tennis match, since I could not see them both simultaneously at this proximity. She straightened her arms and pulled them back into the flex, causing her biceps to ball up right in front of me, unobscured now by any fabric. I reached out with my hand and grabbed the ball of the bicep and she repeated the action again, then again. I possessed my own muscles, of course, and was obviously familiar with the feel of my muscle contracting, but the difference between mine and hers was so vast it was difficult to process. As if we were not the same species made of the same stuff. The hardness was on a completely different level. Her flexed muscles seemed to have no yield whatsoever. In my internet binges of female muscle content, I had read descriptions of muscular women that used words like “steel” and “granite” that seemed so overused and cliché, yet these were exactly the sensations that came to mind as I probed her body. I squeezed harder at the mass of her arm and could feel some of the sinuous structure of the swollen muscle, which was vaguely recognizable as human, yet also simultaneously so alien and foreign as a contrast to how my body felt.
I looked at Lorie’s body. Her torso, which no longer had any soft breast tissue, did seem to have some androgynous nature. While I obviously knew she was a woman, the sight before me did not look female from the waist up. She possessed a body that was essentially the equal of a massively muscular man. Her wide shoulders, sloping traps, and squared pectoral muscles presented a physique that I imagined any man working in the gym would have been proud to achieve if he were to get to exactly her present build. I could envision a man proudly displaying arms with the kind of shape and mass that she possessed. And her vascularity! She had veins everywhere. Thickly winding down her forearms and biceps, snaking down her thighs and densely packed on her calves. She had smaller and lighter veins on her shoulders and pecs. I saw veins even on her abs and her lats.
I was fascinated by the awareness that, if certain queues were removed (her face and hair, her bra, her bikini-style panties, her feminine jewelry, her painted nails), this body was no longer what someone would recognize as female. She had achieved a physique, as a woman, that rivaled nearly any man, with the exception of male bodybuilders. It was the superposition of her supreme muscularity with her female-ness that created that unreal combination that I inexplicably found so magnificently erotic. I did not understand why the concept of a muscular woman did this to me, but it did. I felt weakness in my knees while standing before her.
I spent an unknown amount of time reveling in Lorie’s muscular presentation to me. I wandered up and down her body as she flexed and posed for my enjoyment. I took turns both watching and feeling anything I could. It seemed that nothing was off-limits to me, but I avoided direct contact with her genital area and her nipples, although she did not necessarily provide any indication to stay away. This was simply a choice as I had somewhat unconsciously defined these boundaries.
As I was exploring Lorie’s flexed arms, still marveling at the size and hardness, still struggling to accept what she had become, I whispered, “My god you are just so big…in such a wonderful way. How strong are you?”
Our faces were surprisingly close, and I heard her response close to my ear, “Are you into strength, too? Not just the muscle, but what it can do?”
“Yes. I’m so fascinated.”
“I’m pretty strong. These muscles aren’t all show. What do you want to know?”
I was exploring her sizable biceps, which she was repeatedly flexing for me in response to my current area of focus. “What do you curl with these arms?”
“Oh, quite a bit. I can curl fifty-five pound dumbbells fairly easily for many reps, or one hundred and twenty five pound barbells.”
So much more than me. I knew I struggled with forty pound dumbbells. My focus moved to her massive shoulders. She responded by doing lateral raises with her arms. “What do you lift with these shoulders?”
“You work out, right?”
“Not as much as you, but yeah…”
“OK. I wanted to make sure you had some perspective. Let’s see where to begin. You know what a lateral raise is, right?” I nodded, “Well, I can do those with thirty-five pounds for ten or twelve reps, maintaining strict form. I can dumbbell press ninety pounds, but I’m a little limited by some shoulder issues.”
I imagined the sight of a girl in the gym pressing ninety pound dumbbells over her head. I couldn’t remember seeing any men in my modest gym that lifted weight like that for that exercise. I knew with certainty that I could not do a single lateral raise with a thirty-five pound dumbbell.
I now transitioned to her chest. She proceeded to flex it for me. “What can you bench press?” I heard my voice quiver.
She laughed at this one, “You have no idea how often people ask me that. It is nearly always men, too.”
“I’m sorry.” I suddenly felt kind of ashamed, like I was just another guy that was gawking at her.
“Don’t worry. I am going to guess you like hearing about how strong I am,” she winked at me when she said this, once again squeezing her pecs for me.
“Yes, I really do.” (Oh my god, did I!)
“What do you think I can bench press?” She smiled at me and took a half step away, clasping her palms in front of her and really causing her pecs to contract and swell. The veins in her arms, shoulders, and chest emerged. I watched hungrily.
“I can’t begin…I guess…” I did some mental scaling in my head from the other lifts. “Two twenty-five?”
She feigned a hurt expression, “I hit that max lift about seven years ago. Keep guessing.”
“Umm, two fifty?”
She nodded, “Yeah, no problem there. Keep going.” She reached behind her back as I watched her flexing, and I recognized with some shock that she was removing her bra.
My mouth went dry again, and I felt tunnel vision set in as I realized she was about to go topless in front of me, allowing me to see her muscular chest completely uncovered. As she removed the bra and softly tossed it to the couch, she turned back to me and hit a classic front double biceps pose, then an abdominal pose, then brought her arms down to flex her chest and biceps in front of her. I watched her pecs change shape as she moved from pose to pose and contract the muscles.
I struggled to regain my voice after this development, “Um…more than two fifty? Really? Two seventy-five…?” It couldn’t be more than this. I personally couldn’t bench more than two hundred and five.
She laughed out loud, “Why don’t I save you some time. I maxed out at three hundred and fifteen pounds this summer. That was the last time I tried a max lift.”
“Oh my god…” was all I could utter in response. She was, without a doubt, the most powerful PERSON that I knew. I struggled to comprehend how physically potent this woman…my friend…had become over the years we were apart. I pictured her sweating in a dark gym, surrounded by massive men, trading lifts with them using the same weight, participating as an equal. I could see her joking and laughing with them taking high-fives as she completed staggering lifts that most humans could not hope to accomplish…her swollen, exposed limbs matching those of the men around her. I looked at her pretty face and imagined it grimacing as she strained to press a barbell from her chest, bending with the weight of three forty-five pound plates on each side. Again, I tried to recall the image of the slender, lithe dancer’s body she used to possess in our youth, and it seemed so absurdly remote from the muscular body before me in this moment. I marveled at how surreal her physical transformation really was, then I marveled even more at the fact that I was currently here in this hotel room, allowed to worship and revel it its magnificence, under the mutual awareness that this was for my sensual pleasure. I searched my fading memory of all our other friends from high school, particularly the imposing football players, to consider if any of them could lift that much? How many of our friends from high school might now possess of this kind of strength? I guessed that very few were her equal now. Who could have guessed that the pretty girl from the dance team would become one of the strongest, most powerful, most muscular people from our high school class years after we all graduated. No one. No one would have predicted this ludicrous thing.
I suddenly became aware that I was once again slack-jawed, staring at her bare torso. I felt like she could read every thought going through my mind. She beamed back at me and flashed a flirty smile and a wink…then she proceeded to hit a most-muscular pose, causing her entire upper to contract furiously before me. I was fully aware that this famous pose was considered profoundly unfeminine, yet it was supremely sexy to me. I knew that to most female bodybuilding aficionados that were fans of this sport purely for the freakiness of the extreme muscle, this pose put the most tension between femininity and muscularity. I absorbed the look of Lorie’s beautiful hair cascading over the swollen, rippling muscles of her traps, deltoids, and pecs. Her biceps and triceps were flexed simultaneously, and they strained and quivered under the effort of the pose as veins popped. The cords of her forearms were pronounced and corded with sinew and vascularity. Her hands were curled inward into tight fists. I could see the tight, rippled bulges of her flexed abs shadowed within the cavity formed by her pose.
She relaxed and giggled. So feminine once again. “I can tell you’re impressed. You like the idea of not just a muscular girl, but also a very strong girl, don’t you?”
“I do.”
She approached me once again, and I became acutely aware of her nude upper body, now well within my reach. She seemed oblivious to my sudden discomfort about how to react in such proximity to her. She curled her right arm into another biceps pose. I had not grown tired nor accustomed to the mass of her arms.
“I know…I can tell.” She looked down conspicuously at my quite visible erection. It was hopeless to hide. She noticed that I was suddenly self-conscious, “Don’t worry…I’ve known a lot of guys that feel the same way. It’s a good thing!”
She took my hand (I wondered if she could feel it trembling) and pulled it toward her, placing it on her pectoral muscle. She put my palm directly over the nipple, in effect inviting me to have full access to her upper body. She looked in my eyes the entire time. She flexed the muscle and allowed me to caress her as I desired.
“Do you mind if I touch you?”
I was surprised by the question. What could she possibly want to touch on me? How could I compare to her?
I nodded. She stepped even closer, and I was momentarily startled as I felt her hand move directly to my erection. I did not expect this. She slowly caressed me through my pants as I continued to feel her muscular chest, and she continued to flex and relax her pectoral rhythmically beneath my exploring hand. I closed my eyes at the new sensations introduced by her intimate touch, relishing the intense waves of electricity now pulsing through me. She made a sound, not far from a purr, into my ear, obviously recognizing the sensation she was creating for me. She lifted her free arm and proceeded to once again flex her bicep for me, which I dutifully caressed, although my attention was now divided between the sensation of her hard muscular arm in one hand and the movement of her other hand that was now unzipping my pants and releasing my belt.
The anticipation of what her actions were initiating was weakening my already unstable knees even further. I had not expected any direct sexual stimulation to occur tonight.
As my mind tried to figure out where to focus, I felt Lorie’s fingers deftly unclasp my belt, then work the zipper down and unclasp the button on my pants, allowing my erection to emerge nearly into the open, only restrained by the thin fabric of my boxer shorts. The sensation was incredible. While she still flexed her biceps, I could see her eyes now looking downward as I felt her pull my boxers down to completely release my erect penis. I saw her smile just before I felt the warmth of her hand as it gently encompassed my erection. She purred into my ear again and started to stroke very, very slowly. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the simultaneous pleasure of the hand job while also enjoying the feel of the massive biceps muscle in my hand. I was not going to last very long.
Lorie easily read the situation and brought her flexing arm toward my face. I could feel her body now pressed up against my side as we stood in the room. I opened my eyes and tried to look at her arm, now presented at extremely close range to my face.
Lorie whispered to me, “Would you like to kiss it?”
I wanted this more than anything and it seemed I didn’t need to actually respond in any way. She knew. I brought my lips to the hard muscle that she presented to me and began to kiss, then licked, hungrily. She relaxed the muscle contraction without straightening the arm and then reflexed and I felt the muscle fibers with my lips. Her stroking became slightly faster and firmer, more deliberate. I had never been so turned on by anything. I felt the onset of my orgasm begin, and I could tell she was fully aware of my state. Her stroking slowed slightly and her grasp became lighter, easing me into the inevitable release. Amongst the many sensations I was subjected to in this moment, I had the presence of mind to be amazed at her expertise working me carefully to orgasm, but as slowly and luxuriously as she possibly could. While her stroking had become feather light, my release was now imminent. I felt the waves begin, and I eased my face away from her arm. Lorie picked up my queues immediately and brought that arm down to take over the hand job action. I placed my hand on her upper arm and closed my eyes, feeling the muscles of her arm work as it now took over the stroking motion. I felt the relentless rush of my orgasm finally begin, and my knees finally gave out and buckled beneath me. Rather than crumple to the floor, I felt Lorie’s other arm take up my weight as she deftly wrapped it beneath my arm and behind my back. I don’t know how she managed to hold me up, but she did. I allowed myself to settle into her hold, perceiving the magnificent strength and control she exerted over my now nearly dead weight and lost myself in the sensation of the intense climax that had now begun. I felt myself ejaculate ferociously. My eyes were closed as I savored the waves of pleasure radiating through me. As my mind was becoming distant from the hormone release that had just occurred, I was vaguely aware of my body being lifted slightly forward a moment before I felt an intense charge of seemingly electrified stimulation as Lorie’s warm lips suddenly crashed into my own. Before I fully registered the fact that we were kissing, her tongue had charged into my mouth and begun to probe deeply as I reflexively met it with my own, although my efforts seemed rather feeble compared to force of her kiss (even her tongue seemed to have an edge in power over what I could muster from mine).
This deep kiss continued for what felt like a thirty seconds to a minute, although I had virtually no perception of time or space in my present state.
Lorie finally broke the kiss, “mmm, you enjoyed yourself.” I noticed that she was continuing to stroke very slowly and tenderly even after my orgasm was finished and I was beginning to go slightly soft. I forced my eyes open and my eyes looked down to see the cords in her forearm dance even as she did this gentle motion. She was also watching her hand, but she looked up to look into my eyes, “That was an impressive finish!”
I have no idea if she was truly impressed with the orgasm she had induced…I doubted it. I suspect this was a platitude to burnish my male ego, but I said nothing. “Oh my god…that was amazing. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”
I noticed that I was still holding her right biceps, which was now barely moving, yet I could still feel the mass of sinuous muscle even with her arm now at rest. Lorie noticed as well and giggled. “Take it all in. I’m glad you enjoyed this. I did too.”
I was embarrassed to realize that she was still mostly supporting my weight, and I thought in amazement how she had managed to hold me up with one arm without interrupting the action of pleasuring me with the other. The prodigious strength that she had described to me was certainly no joke. I got my balance back and stood up on my feet again, and we separated from our entwined position. I proceeded to zip my pants.
Lorie watched me, “It would be silly for you to leave tonight. I’ve got a king sized bed in here, why don’t you spend the night. We can grab breakfast tomorrow.”
I thought about the walk of shame in the lobby, but then realized how proud I’d be to do it next to a woman like Lorie. Let people think what they will. I don’t care if they know I have a muscle fetish and just spent the night with this magnificent female bodybuilder. This was something to be celebrated.
“Sounds wonderful. I’m pretty sleepy all of a sudden,” this was not a lie.
Lorie laughed, “I can imagine. You just had quite an experience. I’m rather proud of the fact that I was able to give it to you.”
All I could do was smile dumbly at her. She had given me gift like no other.
“What time is it?”
“Almost 12:30am.”
This session had lasted nearly ninety minutes. We got to the room about 11pm.
“Um, have you ever done anything like that…like what we just did…before?”
Lorie smiled, “I’ve been with a fair number of guys that have a similar preference to yours, and I can say that many of them have reacted similar around me when we were intimate. There are variations, as you might expect, but the muscle lust is pretty common in the guys that I date. It is kind of a pre-requisite in the guys that I click with, you know?”
“I guess that’s expected.” I yawned. I noticed that she did not seem interested in any kind of intimate favor exchange. Her body language and demeanor were telegraphing that this session was purely for my pleasure and the physical portion of it had essentially concluded. Strangely, despite what we had just done, I felt no new strangeness with Lorie. It was as if we were back to being close friends almost instantly. We now clearly shared a connection at a new, deeper level than we had before, but it seemed to be a simple addition to the bond we already shared.
Lorie proceeded to the bathroom and I walked over to the bed. My head swimming from the lightness I suddenly felt in being “outed,” with my long held secret now shared by another person in the world. I realized that there was a loneliness that had been present within me that was suddenly gone, occupied by another person, one of my best friends.
Before Lorie even returned from the bathroom, I drifted to sleep. The last sensation I remembered was the feel of the smile I had on my face.