Fan-tasy: Two's Company, Three's A Crowd, But An FBB Plus Three Is So Heavenly

Mr. Enforced Vacation, 6ft1swell himself, does like to encourage the brethren to get in touch, and likewise ol' C. Moore here is no stranger to others who are living "the life" either. So when I knew I was going to have to think of 28 different (relevant and vaguely interesting) post topics, I immediately thought my contact list might be able to help lighten the load. Into the subject line I typed: Tell me your biggest fantasy, and lo and behold many were only too willing to oblige. Four have made it past editorial.

"Hot Beef" has the honour of being our first respondent to have his fantasy published.

Here it is in all its translated from the Italian glory thanks to one of the FMS minions (who are there, apparently, to do my bidding, and who are finding themselves bidden to do more and more as C. Moore gets carried away with his new-found power).



Muscle dressed up to go out is better than anything. The difference of the big meaty body, so masculine, and the "typical" clothes, so feminine. It makes me crazy, and I want to spend an evening with a huge and glamorous muscle woman in a dress.



She tells me to pick her up and I go to her apartment. But she is not alone. Two other guys are there - she told them the same thing: "Pick me up around 8". And we're looking at each other and at her, and she's making us wait, putting on make-up, brushing her hair etc. Walking around in her dress and heels looking and smelling so good, arranging the three bunches of flowers we have brought for her. And as I watch her, I get excited, erect, and so do the other two guys. Three massive tentpoles, three cocks hard for her, and we don't know who she is going out with.



So we stand, kind of proud and also shy and smiling at each other and what we are showing off, and she comes to us and looks really close at our big bulges. "Good," she says in a deep and silky voice, "now we're all ready, let's go." So we understand we are all going with her. I don't feel disappointed or jealous of the others or want her for myself at all. Maybe you would but not me. To me it's very hot she needs more than one guy - more than two guys! And she has the power to have all three of us if she wants - the other two are content with her arrangement as well - that is hotter.



About her dress. FBBs look sexy in anything. It can be any colour, any style, but her muscles should be obvious somehow. Maybe tight so we can see her muscles under the fabric, maybe cut low so we can see her pecs, or open at the back so we can see her lats. And short or maybe long and with a slit so we can see better her the muscles of her legs - the thighs, hamstrings and calves accentuated by her very high heels.



We walk to the restaurant through in the city centre. We three worshipers walk just a little behind her, watching her powerful body move, her muscles rippling as she walks. Watching the people react to her, watching their shock, watching them stare in awe. Everyone sees her and her magnificent muscles, no one pays attention to us and our big bulges, which by the way are getting bigger and bigger all the time.



At the restaurant, our table - she - is the centre of attention. Diners stare, gawp, tut. We take turns. I first sit to her left, feeding her; then I move to her right, fawning over her muscular arms and shoulders; then I sit opposite her, feeling up calves, hamstrings and quads as she stretches her legs out under the table, her foot in my crotch. I'm leaking by now, and spurting too, but still totally ramrod hard. Then it's my turn to go back to feeding her again. And so it continues until she's finally eaten her fill. She goes to freshen up, and me and her other two dates settle the bill.



Back to her place. "I would invite you all in," she tells us as she unlocks her door and steps into her apartment, "but, you know, early morning cardio..." She steps out of her shoes. "I didn't get this body by staying up all night." Again, I feel no disappointment. It's been a privilege to spend this time with her, just to be in her presence. But it's not quite over yet. She slips out of her dress to reveal her beautiful naked body in all its magnificence. She hits a series of poses - arms, chest, thighs, abs... It's too much, overwhelming. I feel my legs trembling, my head spinning...



And when I come round I'm back at my place, with no recollection of how I got there. I am still rock hard. And I close my eyes and visualise her walking in front of us in the street, her laughter and the feel of the hardness of her muscles at the restaurant, of her foot in my crotch and of her naked, tanned, muscular body as she flexed for us, and as I lie back and open my flies and put my hand around my warm, sticky, granite cock my entire body is thrown back into the bed by the force of the explosion.



I often daydream about this, and I've also experienced it as an actual dream, waking up hard, warm and sticky of course! Maybe it's a weird fantasy - no actual sex, not much conversation, and I don't even get to be alone with her - but it's one I have had with me for many years, with many different women of all sizes playing the role of the FBB, sometimes multiple women in the same dream. Feels good to have shared it.

Thanks to "Hot Beef" for responding to the call - and for choosing the illustrations.

More Fan-tasies throughout the month.

Fancy a Date?

Female bodybuilders are competitive chicks who like to be fit and look good even if it means spending countless hours at the gym every single day and not socializing outside of bodybuilding circles, reads the press release. As this sport is an obsession, until recently - unless the men were pumping iron themselves - it was almost impossible to come across them. But all that's changed thanks to Female Bodybuilder Dating, which has vowed to make as many matches with muscle chicks as possible, and finally make dating a female bodybuilder a reality. They might not meet the pros, but they definitely do meet iron chicks next door who make their fantasies come true.


Ashley Dishman probably making someone's fantasy come true

It's a real thing, this Female Bodybuilder Dating "community", and as far as I know, not a new thing at all. Nevertheless, this apparently vigorous marketing campaign - from bitter experience we know that if FMS is getting sent a press release, then they really are sending it to anybody! - is a recent thing. It doesn't take long before they start asking you for some subs, but as far as I (or you, if you're interested) can freely see, the promise of "iron chicks next door" who are seeking is not too far wide of the mark.


Date Night - Victoria Puentes, sadly not your typical "iron chick next door"

And if you should happen to get a match, you might want to drop by the forum whose first rule is before you do go out on that date. One member with (apparently) plenty of FBB dating experience has recently taken to the boards to share his "confessions" regarding relationships he has had with three separate women, met "through Facebook". The first was "her country's top champion for a couple of years", the second also a national champion who "has now won many international competitions", and the third a natural bodybuilder competing at (and winning) international competitions.


"Does my back look big in this?" Kashma (right) and Margita are all about the lats

If you are like me, you will be trying to work out who he is talking about (especially lady #2), but apart from that it is undeniably intriguing stuff as he charts the beginnings, middles and ends of all three relationships and the lessons he has learned as a result. Look for "How to Date FBBs - Confessions" in the General Chat section.


Tigress to impress - Diana Schnaidt

You may also, like me, skim through the courtship blurb and go straight to the "SEX" section, where you will find all your fantasy suspicions confirmed. Sex with #1, his first experience with a female bodybuilder, remember, was "mind-blowing". #2 was "a dream come true" who "loved being on top and flexing for me", while #3 was "a screaming tigress in bed" who wanted it "long and hard" to such an extent that it wasn't too long before he was having to take Cialis for "the stamina I needed to satisfy".


Up close and personal with Maz Burns' bicep

Ultimately, however, his conclusion is a somewhat disheartening one for those of you who are desperately seeking. This [third, most] long-term relationship lasted a couple of years and gave me the full experience of being the partner of an FBB, he says. Whilst at times exhilarating and fulfilling in many ways, it led me to the conclusion that it would be better if any future long-term partner of mine was not an FBB.


Moving out? Ashley Hromyak

You might find his stories lead you to the same conclusion, but you might also find, as I do, that his reasoning is a tad flawed. His posts are considerably more interesting than the usual dross served up on those boards, and much appreciated for that, but his (and similar accounts I have read over the years) never end well, and the blame for that tends to be laid at the woman's door every time, while in my (not inconsiderable) experience of relationships, the opposite is almost always true. Relationships end because men (whether they admit or are even aware of it or not) want them to.


They do normal stuff too, right? But Kayleigh Farrell carries more than the average female

Are relationships with female bodybuilders - fantasy sex aside! - really so different? Only one way to find out for sure, and that would start with a date. Female Bodybuilder Dating want to help. Our friend from the forum recommends Facebook. You might also consider the more radical idea of joining a serious gym and being serious about it.


Angelica Enberg - note she's in a gym

That is, after all, what the female bodybuilders themselves recommend!


And Kristen Nun - in a GYM

I wish you luck.

Abs Week: A Fantasy

You catch sight of yourself side on in the mirror, the same angle she would have had looking into it. There's no way she could have missed it, she must have seen.

Blushing, you hastily retreat to the locker room, thumping the wall with your fist in frustration, partly with yourself for your lack of self-control, partly because you know you'd better avoid being here when she's here for a while. Your mind races, searching for reasons why that doesn't need to happen while at the same time inventing a scenario where the next time you come and ogle her she's brought her meathead boyfriend along to kick the living bejaysus out of you. You shudder.

"That's quite a bulge you've got going on there."

Your heart stops. It's her voice, deeper than your average female.

Nine weeks ago you'd first seen her. You were later than usual, late leaving work, but you decided not to wimp out, to end the day on a high. And what a high that first sighting had been! Nine weeks ago minus one day you had changed your workout schedule and were coming in for your first (of many) late night sessions of - you had decided to call it - extreme female muscle perving with a little lifting thrown in.

You told yourself you were keeping well clear of her so as not to get in her way, but deep down you knew it was simply to get the best possible view of her going through her frighteningly intense workouts. You'd seen plenty of women doing hanging leg raises on your screen, but never with your own eyes before. Never seen a jumping squat. Never seen anyone go hand over hand up the side of a weights machine with their legs held out horizontally. This was superhero stuff. You were in awe.

One night you overheard two guys in the locker room. She was going to compete, six to seven weeks, one reckoned. And you'd thought the little she'd exposed until then had been ripped! "Don't go in there, mate," one of the guys had called out as you headed into the gym. "It's horrible!" And you could hear his pal had burst out laughing.

You didn't look back.

The weeks progressed. She did, as you had hoped, wear less and less and show off more and more of her gloriously chiselled, vascular physique. And - even more than you'd hoped for - she was spending more and more time posing in the mirror. You went through your exercises in a constant state of arousal, moving to another machine, another bench, if and only if you were sure you were outside her field of vision.

But slowly, you got foolish.

It started when you pointed it at her. The thought she might turn round and see you, see it. What a rush! You did it again, and again, and then you were doing it multiple times in an evening, and then you just got even more brazen. Even more stupid.

She's doing pulldowns, her back to you in all its pumped and defined glory. It's already pointing at her, and as if on some kind of auto-pilot, you're slowly pulling the front of your shorts down. Half exposed, you can feel the air from the AC unit above you on it. See her muscles working. It's throbbing, pulsing towards her, begging you to give it relief, then suddenly she's finished her set and you turn, and put it away again.

When you think about these moments in the cold light of day you feel shame. But back in the heat of the gym, however, hearing her grunt, watching her push that final rep out, all you can think of is manoeuvering yourself into a similar position again and feeling that air around it as you watch her. The thrill is addictive. You need it.

And you knew deep down this moment would come.

"Turn around. I want to see it."

Slowly, nervously, you comply.

She laughs. She hasn't so much scared you stiff as scared you limp.

"Oh dear," she says in a mocking, baby-ish voice. "Where's he gone?"

Your face burns with embarrassment.

"How can we get him back, do you think?" You could be wrong but it occurs to you her tone is rather playful. Your heart starts up again with a mighty thud.

"Does this help?" She's lifting her top, revealing a perfect six. You hear yourself gasp, and she breaks into a smile. I wasn't wrong, you realise, she really is playing with me. She flexes, hard ridges of muscle obey, explode, so beautiful, so much thicker and so much more defined than you had ever imagined. You're rushing once more.

"Here!" she commands, pointing at the floor in front of her.

You step towards her, breathing hard, mesmerised by her rippling abdomen, and drop to your knees. It's pointing at her again, and she seems pleased about it too.

"Well, well, well..."

Her hands reach down and take yours. Strong hands, though it's not that you're resisting or anything. You feel the heat from her body, your heart pounds in your ears, and she pulls your hands up towards those beautiful ridges of muscle...

Fantasy Friday

ON THE ISLAND OF THEMYSCIRA...



Who hasn't had the washed up on an island of Amazons dream?



Well, according to some sections of the media recently, we're all going to (sort of) have that dream come true if we go see Wonder Woman. The film's array of Amazon warriors, behind some of the most intense action sequences in the film, are no ordinary extras, Katie Fustich told us in The Daily Mail a few days ago. Rather, when it came time for director Patty Jenkins to select her cast, she opted to fill the island of Themyscira with real-life wrestlers, trainers, farmers, and even Olympic athletes.



And among them, the familiar face (and body) of Crossfit pin-up Brooke Ence, who plays Penthesilea. I got a call from Warner Bros. asking me if I would come in and read, she told The Huffington Post. I had no idea what it was for. It just seemed like a really great opportunity, and it literally just fell in my lap. I couldn’t say no.



The images of the Amazons in costume at their training camp on the Amalfi coast certainly brought all my teenage Amazon island fantasies rushing back, and not least those featuring the gorgeous Brooke. And her Huffington Post interview about her experience did nothing to curb my enthusiasm to see the film. It was a great realization of all the different types of strength. Everyone that was an Amazon just walked with more power. They walked with this Amazonian vibe.



It was really cool to see this whole training area, and there's not one male figure in sight, she continues. Women wrestling other women, kickboxing, doing pull-ups and practicing with spears... My fantasy's changing just a little bit - now I just want to have been there at the training camp! It sounds, and looks, a little bit like heaven!



Be warned though. The Amazon Army might not actually be in the film for quite as long as all this media attention suggests. Jenavieve Hatch, Huffington Post author, was, for one, as disappointed as any female muscle fan could be. For many viewers, she writes, Wonder Woman should have been set entirely on the women-only Amazon warrior paradise of Themyscira. It felt profoundly satisfying to watch women wield so much physical power on a humongous screen, and as the story went from Themyscira to World War I-era Western Europe, I found myself missing the women warriors...



And as for Brooke, well if you do part with your time and money and head to the local multiplex thinking you might sneak out after the Themyscira scenes, keep a close eye out for her. No one on the forums has reported actually spotting her on screen yet. Is Brooke in it much? asks one forum member. Not even for a second, comes the reply.

Guess we'll have to wait for the Director's Cut DVD.

Thanks to Crossfit correspondent Aiden for the heads-up.

Stage: Part 3

A CZECH DREAM

Arrival

The fresh face among the drivers holding up their papers has "FMS" on his, as we'd agreed. Half joke, half experiment to see if we'd be able to spot any other of the blog's readers eyeing the sign at Leoš Janáček Airport. He'd told me he was 19 and I'm reassured to see he looks it. If nothing else he told me the truth about that. We embrace like old friends, even though this is the first time we've ever met in person.

"Welcome to Czechia!" he says, beaming.



We're here in Ostrava, meeting for the very first time, because tomorrow, Saturday 27th May, we're going to be attending our first ever bodybuilding show. Or shows.

The Diamond Cup Ostrava (one of those regional pro card carrot events the IFBB have been pushing like mad since Female Bodybuilding disappeared as a class at their amateur events), is being held with the brand new Czechia Pro - Figure and WPD only.

With me behind the (left-hand drive) wheel, we make our way into the centre of Ostrava and our hotel. The sun is going down as we eat in the hotel restaurant.

"When that rises again, it'll be on a day we'll never forget," he says.

We met in a chat room just over a year ago and almost immediately I realised here was one of those all too rare occasions when I've encountered a fellow female muscle head on the same wavelength as me. It wasn't long before we were in almost daily contact, scheduling our chats. And not too long after that the subject of the event first came up.

At first it was all "Wouldn't it be great if...?" But the more I thought about it, the more feasible (and real) it became. A direct flight to Ostrava was pricier than the distance would suggest, but certainly not out of my range by any means, and in pounds the cost of the car, hotel, tickets and meals was reasonable to say the least. In my line of work I could easily have business in Czechia, so there would be little problem selling that to the wife or indeed ultimately writing off most of the cost as business expense.

OK, if you'd given me a list of events in 2017 and asked me to take my pick I doubt I would have even considered the Diamond Cup Ostrava/Czechia Pro as an option, but I was not going to have to go on my own, which seemed like a huge plus, and besides, I was curious to meet this 19-year-old guy with perfect English and a killer taste in female muscle. When was an opportunity like this ever going to come up again?

Like kids before Christmas we were too excited to sleep much and spent most of the night pouring over each others' laptops and pictures and clips of our favourite goddesses past and present. We checked out the pro competitor lists, disappointed to find there would be only 11 women, but there was Maria Garcia in the Figure class, and Margita Zamolova and Joanna Romano in Physique plus other Czechs and Slovaks that only he knew and Hungarians and an Italian that neither of us did.



Saturday 27th May

The moment we arrive at the venue we start losing each other. There are so many fit (and this being Czechia) beautiful women milling around we find ourselves going wandering off in different directions as our individual female muscle radars go crazy and we succumb to the urges of a Madness so strong it is almost overwhelming.



There are a lot of big guys around too. And these beautiful fit women we are gawping at are (mostly) with them. We must be more careful, we decide after I get growled at by a meathead who seems to be as wide as I am tall. Thankfully my Czech mate (sorry, I had to put it in somewhere!) is able to quickly diffuse the situation in his native tongue.

Time to head for the relative safety of the auditorium.



We scan the crowd for more talent as a couple of mercifully small (in number) men's classes come on first and then it's time for Junior Bikini. Not the class I am most excited about, but as the first lady sashays onto the stage, my heart is pounding.

"This is it!" I hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"This is it!" replies my buddy, grabbing my hand in celebration. "We did it!"



Junior Bikini comes and goes, and then there's more Bikini, and more - Master's, then 6 different height classes, 10+ competitors in each - and we are, quite contrary to expectations, absolutely loving it. I had no idea an adrenaline rush could last so damn long, and in each class, without fail, at least one competitor comes on and makes me - to use a term I first picked up in a Girls with Muscle comment - go BOING!

"Great presence," we say, our pre-arranged code phrase for the effect.

"Nice," replies the other.



We'd clearly underestimated how sensational these women would look. So tight, so confident, and the enthusiasm of the some of the male members of the crowd for them is, quite frankly, infectious. And you can see the muscles in their (often very long) thighs working as they stride around in their heels, and see they do flex their abs (even if they're not supposed to), and some of them are just absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

And neither of us remembered any of their names.



But as surprisingly exciting as Bikini had been, the Fitness (just a single competitor) and Physique (just two) were underwhelming. Actually I completely missed Round 1 of the Fitness class, having needed to go to the toilet - just to be clear, in order to go to the toilet. But there was still Bodyfitness to go, and via my friend/translator, I learned the emcee had just told us we were going to see fifteen women in this class.

"Fifteen women in the short class?" I asked, hopefully.

"Open class. Just one... Here we go!"



The faces of two men frozen by some kind of ice-ray just as they were screaming out "NO!!!" That's what we looked like for the entirety of the Bodyfitness class. "Great presence" just became "Presence!", then a low grunt. By the end we were communicating by touch alone, clasping the others' hand (we did a lot of this, it didn't feel gay, it was just the only way to communicate at times). The Bikini girls had been surprisingly BOING!, the Bodyfitness ladies took us into a full-on swoon.



Rippling thighs, which flared - as though growing before our very eyes - when they stopped and did their forward facing front-on pose. Abs from another world to the Bikini girls. Hard, pulsing with their breath. No hint of softness in their hamstrings and glutes, and across their backs all the definition I had imagined from my many years of photo gallery watching and more because I could actually see them in motion. They were all so proud, so confident up there. Such sex appeal I was throbbing. And if I'd been able to tear my eyes off these women for a second, I dare say I might have noticed they had caused my friend to erect a tentpole perhaps bigger than mine.



I lost not only the power of speech but also the power of thought to #273, Michaela Kohutová. I may have drooled, although I can't be sure, but evidence seen later suggests that at the very least I dripped, and if Michaela had actually got to flex that sleek physique of hers, I doubtlessly would done a load more than that. A LOAD.



"M-I-C-H-A-E-L-A K-O-H-U-T-O-V-A," he spelled out for me.

"Accent on the A?"

He nodded.

As we chatted about the Bodyfitness experience, my compadre hadn't registered they'd just announced that Pro Figure was up next. We missed the first competitor completely, but then as a significant cheer, wolf whistles and all, broke out, he looked back towards the stage. "Oh my God!" he yelled, pointing manically. "It's MARIA!!!"




Nothing before had prepared me for this new high.

I'd seen maybe 100 competitors on stage to that point, not one had flexed a muscle in anger, and I was rushing like a junkie in a post-fix glow already despite never hearing of or (to my knowledge) seeing a single image of any of them before. Suddenly, here was a name. A name body. A female muscle celebrity, a Hot and Hard 100 superstar. "Oh my God!" I responded (yes, you guessed it) grabbing his hand. "It's Maria GARCIA!!!"



What can I say? To be honest I was light-headed with swoon, faint from the pumping of all that blood to a single area of my body. I remember the moment largely through sensation rather than vision, but what I will tell you is this: as you probably know, Maria is an exotic dancer by trade, and that's pretty much how she comes across on stage. She's not dancing, and she's certainly not stripping, but with every move she makes she suggests she might do either or both of those things any minute now.

And she's shorter than you think.



She won. And I would say she was the class of the field and deserved to. But I'm no judge, as I've always said, and I'm more sure of that now than ever before because I know how I voted while I was watching and it wasn't with my head. And it wasn't with my heart. Perhaps the judges have a more difficult job than we think after all...

"I think I stopped breathing for a while there," I said.

"Yeah, me too."

We looked at each other and laughed.

There were men in Bermuda shorts on stage. Lean upper bodies, no legs. Some women in the audience, though, were having as good a time as we were by the sound of it.

"It's so sexual. The whole thing," I whispered.

"Want to get a bit of air. I think I need it. Physique's on after these Men's Physique classes. I need to calm down a bit before I see women actually flexing, you know?"

"Totally. Let's do it."

We edged along our row and up and out of the auditorium and back into the foyer. A stunning, tanned, muscular woman strode past, close enough for me to feel the air move as she did so. Back to our "NO!!!!" faces, our eyes followed her out of sight.

Then we looked at each other and promptly collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"How GREAT is this?"

"I'm so happy we did this."

"Me too."

More laughter.

"I think I'm high."

"It's EXACTLY like that, isn't it?"

And it really was. It felt like my first pill and that joint I smoked after skinning dipping in the Aegean that night and the mellow mushrooms of Glastonbury '99 - my three best drug experiences - all rolled into one. Eyes wide open. Senses heightened. I was alive, ecstatic. In the great infinity of the universe I was exactly where I was supposed to be.



And then there was flexing...

Just as it had been a couple of hours after that first pill, I thought I couldn't get any higher. I was so so wrong. It's true when they say that you have never seen anything like a really muscular woman in contest shape, and yes, OK, these were not the most muscular women in the world, but they are easily the most muscular I have seen.



When Veronica Javorska (Czechia), the first Physique lady on stage, walked out, I heard my friend moan with pleasure and felt the room spin. Muscle fibres in her glutes visibly twitching. Hold tight to your partner's hand and swoon. Her tricep seemed to double in size when she hit the pose. Do I need to put something over my lap? How obvious is it? How obvious can it get before someone notices and I get thrown out?

"I. LOVE. HER," my friend just about managed to get out.

And then Joanna Romano was announced.

I couldn't hold back.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" I growled through gritted teeth. All she'd done was walk on.




So big, so WIDE she looked. And manly in that way we all love female bodybuilders to look and yet she was, at the same time, uber-feminine and glamorous with her blond locks and sparkles. An aura, of power and sensuality. More involuntary moaning as she flexed, in unison this time. I couldn't take my eyes off her chest - striations along her pec line, the thickness of the muscle either side. One of my arms punched the air in celebration, the other grasped my wing man's hand. It was the only way I could stop myself from doing what we all usually do when we see Joanna on our screens.

"YEEEESSSSSSSSSS!" I yelled out as she waved and thundered off stage left.

"COME ON!!!" my friend joined in.

For a split second I marvalled at the fact that he could speak a foreign language at this point. Good on him, I thought. But then something came out of him in Czech. Not for my benefit obviously, a lean, statuesque competitor had taken Joanna's place in the spotlight, and judging by the strength of his grip on my hand. He was feeling her.



Like me seeing Rosanna Harte in the flesh or something, this was the culmination of a decade-long adoration for my friend. Jana Stockelova, the second of the three Czechs has a similar FBBing to WPD story to Rosie, and looked like she had come direct from being chiselled out at the granite quarry, stopping only at the tanning salon and to get her hair and make-up done before jumping on stage. Her body and his enthusiasm carried me with them. I started slamming my fist down onto my thigh.

"COME ON!!!" I roared.

No doubt there were some wondering who these two twits doing some kind of demented St. Vitus' dance and making so much noise were. And not only those in the audience. Taking the stage after Jana, Margita Zamolova looked across towards us before fixing her eyes onto the judges and starting her compulsory poses.




We needed no encouragement, we were both out of our minds, but encouragement is what she had given us, and when she looked over again (pec and tricep) and smiled, we leapt out of our seats as one, screaming and jumping around like loons.

It was inevitable that sooner or later security were going to have a quiet word.

They say 70% get up and leave when the big girls come on, well it seemed more like 90% when I looked round the auditorium as my trusty companion assured two terrifyingly large men (imagine how big you have to be to be intimidating at a bodybuilding event!) that we would stay in our seats and be good little boys. The place had been deserted. We must have been making all the noise. Literally. All of it.

No wonder Margita had looked at us. I hope she enjoyed our reaction.



While Tweedles Dum and Dee had been having a word with my cohort, however, we had missed the last of the five competitors, Italy's Doina Gorun, but later on her routine was, it seems, a memorable one for her getting down and dirty on that stage.

We must have enjoyed it a lot.

Those routines are kind of hazy though, I must admit. By then we were punch drunk, just kind of writhing around in our seats, moaning and yelling out (no one seemed to mind by then, maybe Margita had had a word) in the sheer ecstasy of the moment.



All the way through the awards we stood and cheered and applauded and for our efforts - not that any of it was an effort, just kind of instinct - we got two disdainful looks, one nervous glance, one show of applause in our direction, and two blown kisses - one for each of us. Who gave us what I'm too much of a gentleman to say, but Margita is going to be my Hot and Hard 100 #1 vote for many many years to come.



Epilogue

"Remember what we talked about last night," I told him. "This is going to be a thing."

"Yeah, you know, but I'm studying... Your business, your wife..."

Heavy hangs the head that last night wore the crown and all that. As happy as we'd been the night before, it was a fond but rather glum farewell that we had as I dropped him off at the bus station before heading back to Leoš Janáček Airport.

I wasn't going to take no for an answer. It couldn't be that difficult. Why wouldn't it work? And once set up it could pretty much run itself as long as no one got robbed or murdered or ISIS started using it as a way of setting up clandestine meetings.

Make it a member's website, but there's only a cursory subscription cost. Members are vetted, as far as we can, but only for their female muscle lovin' credentials. It's like Match.com for female muscle lovers, specifically for female muscle lovers who want to travel to shows but don't want to travel alone. We could start in Europe and if it goes well, bring in the North Americans. Thinking of going to the Arnold Classic Europe? Search all our members in or near Barcelona. Attending the Rising Phoenix? We currently have 8 members looking for a weekend companion. Browse profiles here.

I scanned the departure gate for signs of female muscle.

6ft1swell


Based on a real contest but otherwise entirely a work of fiction.