[Jayne Greye]

Hello All. I’ve decided to post the first few pages of my new book here. I will post more soon. The book should be out in early January. The jacket cover (rough draft) is as follows: Following being outed at work and to his fiancee as a man with a muscle fetish, Kyle goes on a quest to understand what he wants and needs out of a relationship with a woman. After hiding his love of muscle all his adult life, he finds ways to explore it. Therapy leads him to consider not settling for what society says he should want, but what he really desires. In the fashion of any journey of self discovery, he meets people along the way who help him understand this part of himself. Each brings their own experience with the world of muscle and helps Kyle as he explores sexual highs and lows as well as the introspection and emotions that finally lead him to accept himself.

If you like the segment below please consider checking out my first book which I wrote with my wife and can be found here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H6Y2HSY

I had hid my affliction, my curse, and my joy my entire life. After successfully concealing my fetish from my mom, my girlfriend, and my fiancée for years, the truth had finally come out and with it, my life had come crashing down. A career as a successful college professor was in jeopardy and public ridicule was not far behind. In some ways I was relieved that decades of concealment was finally over. For years I had considered coming out. That’s what it was to me, coming out. It wasn’t that I was homosexual, but that I craved something in women that society considered unacceptable—muscle. Not just a little muscle, but downright big, sculpted women who were proud of their size.

Though part of me desired to end my charade, come forward and admit my obsession, the voice inside my head that feared the consequences was much louder. I had worked my way up over the years into the position of a tenured professor at the University of New Mexico. I had written three well reviewed books on the origins of the Great War and more importantly, was consistently rated amongst the best teachers in the school. Now with one stupid mistake I had jeopardized everything. I had opened my laptop in my office at school and it had revealed the site I’d been on the night before when I couldn’t sleep. I’d gone out to the family room and spent many hours in a chat room on a site called Girls With Muscle discussing and viewing muscular women. Though I rarely went to the site, I had found the discussion that night revealing and entertaining. Of course, some of the pictures and discussion had been titillating too. A new picture of Valentina Mishina had led me down the primrose path toward sexual gratification. Here was a sensual picture of a beautiful, and probably unnaturally built, Russian woman who spurred engaging and sometimes humorous discussion between a group of muscle admirers, almost all of them male. Though there was general agreement that she was probably using steroids, yet few of us cared.

The picture of her wearing a black tank top and boy shorts and grimacing while doing a leg extension was beyond words. Her black hair was pulled back in a loose bun, like she didn’t care about the way she looked because she was focusing on the huge stack of weights at hand. Her dark brown eyes, framed by black mascara and deep eye liner looked off in the distance, unaffected by anyone else. I loved it. Whatever she was doing to build her muscles, it was working. Her traps were engaged and the shoulder facing the camera was so big it looked like she had a muscle on top of another shoulder muscle and both of them were lined with cuts. Her bicep was enormous. Trained by now to be able to judge the size of women’s arms, I knew her bicep had to be at least 16 inches and an enormous vein engorged with blood looked barely contained by her thin skin on top. The vein went into her forearm where it forked into a small stream of veins and capillaries which fanned out across her arm. As an arms guy, it took me a while to leave the focus on the incredible muscularity of her arms, but when it came to Valentina, that was just the start. Her pec muscles were so pronounced that the picture looked 3d. The chasm in her chest was something I longed to rub my finger across. Instead, my hand found my member and began to stroke myself softly.

The deep cut down the middle of her chest fanned out into rows of striations. I’d seem more than my share of muscular women over the years, but nothing like her chest. The line down the center continued into her abs. While not as cut as some women I’d seen, they were muscular and attractive nonetheless. Her legs looked like an anatomy lesson. A varying series of V’s either upside down or right side up framed her legs and smaller cuts went across her teardrop muscle. I zoomed in to see the intricacies on her legs and studied them furiously like I’d be tested on them the next day and needed to memorize the lines. She looked so big, cut, and powerful I was beginning to hyperventilate a bit just by viewing her picture. Eventually, I couldn’t stand the rising stimulation anymore and I leaned back and took care of my urges. Afterward I had closed the laptop lid and gone to sleep.

[Ian T Bamma]

Your wife is into female muscle as well, JG?

[AlexG]

Mrs JGM’s DeviantArt page . . . B)

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/jgmuscle12

“I like a good story well told. That is the reason I am sometimes forced to tell them myself.”
~ Mark Twain / Samuel Clemens (1907)

[Ian T Bamma]

Mrs JGM’s DeviantArt page . . . B)

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/jgmuscle12

She lifts too? Some guys just have all the luck! 🙂 Thanks AlexG, And good luck on the story JG, the excerpt was an interesting read

[Jayne Greye]

Yes Hex, my wife lifts too. She is trying to get bigger. Much of our first book we wrote together is our story. Being truthful about my feelings with her on muscle was the best move I’ve made. I’ll post more of the intro here soon.

[Jayne Greye]

So after he is suspended from his job and his fiancee dumps him due to his love of muscular women the 2nd chapter continues below:

Leaving the restaurant I sought out a bar. I needed a drink. No several, in the worst way. I had almost been fired, lost my fiancée, why not screw things up a bit more by getting embarrassingly drunk and making a scene? Bad things come in three’s. Right? Why not have all three out of the way in one day. A text in all caps from Elaine confirmed my worst fears and made my decision to screw it and go to the bar seem an easy one. It read, DONT COME BACK TO THE APARTMENT TONIGHT. Briefly, I entertained the idea of going back home and trying to reason with her. But what did I really have to say that I hadn’t already said? Nothing. Instead I found a cheap hotel near a bar and drank my sorrows away. A dimly lit bar with a sticky floor and dollar bills taped to the wall was the place for a deviant like me.

Five shots and a beer later my phone lit up. It was Elaine. Hours earlier until I dropped my bombshell about liking muscular women, she had been my fiancée. I quickly stumbled out of the bar and answered. I was so drunk I feared she might smell the alcohol through the phone. Any chance I had left at salvaging things resided in this phone call and I was absolutely shit faced. All night I had been thinking of what I could say to escape my predicament but I had come up empty. As the evening continued, the ideas had gotten wilder but none held any more promise. The genie was out of the bottle and there was no way to put it back in. As I picked up the phone I blurted out.

“I’ll go to therapy.”

She ignored me and spoke so fast that in my inebriated state I had to decipher what she’d said after she finished speaking. “Kyle, I’m leaving and I’ve already packed. The key is next to the toaster.”

She hung up and I called back immediately but it went right to voice mail. I stumbled back to the hotel, fumbled with the key to unlock the door, and fell asleep on the bed face down without taking my clothes or shoes off.

Five hours later I awakened to the sound of a lawnmower. I stared at the clock in disbelief. 7:00 am. I couldn’t buy a break. My head was exploding, I smelled and I had a severe case of cottonmouth. My face was glued to an ugly gold bed spread and I tried to dispel memories of the ABC documentary I’d watched on hotel bedspreads and dried semen. I got up, grabbed my things, walked out and drove home. At least I could take a shower and feel almost human again. When I arrived at the apartment, it felt cold and empty. She had cleared all of her stuff out in a few short hours to be rid of the freak she was living with, me.

I knew what I was going to do. Why hide it anymore? I had buried these urges for over two decades and it had gotten me an empty apartment without company. I hated being alone. Fuck it, why not just go all in? Who was I hiding these urges from anyway? I had nobody. Perhaps exploring my true feelings would be healthy and provide me some new clues to my sexual proclivity. I turned on the computer and went looking for muscle porn. Previously, I hadn’t sought nude muscular women on the internet, but now it sounded like a good idea. This was the new me. Into the search bar I wrote female muscle nude and clicked return. I scoured the internet and watched a few videos that were exciting to me, but for the most part I hated hard porn. Still, by the time I checked the clock it had been over two hours so I must have enjoyed it to a certain extent.

Later that evening I popped back on the web and went to a site that I had never visited before, herbiceps.com. I had discussed the site with others on Girls with Muscle, but had never signed up because you had to use your credit card to fund the site.

With Elaine around becoming a member on a muscle site would have been unthinkable. Now that she was gone, presto. I signed up, put in my credit card number and tooled around figuring it out a bit. I popped into a few of the muscle girls chat rooms and observed the mechanics. Apparently you bought credits which were paid out per minute. Girls would select different settings and you would pay by the setting. There were a number that were in the free rooms, but I quickly discovered that the higher tiered rooms offered women much readier to shed clothing and flex for their money.

Suddenly Queen Muscle appeared. I knew her better as Oana, a frequent national competitor. She had striations on top of cuts which was all made possible by the sheer enormity of her muscles. I joined the chat and watched her strip and flex her thick tight muscles. Yes, it turned me on a lot, but I soon figured out that beating off in front of a computer, even if the woman on the other side was real and responding to my clicks and texts, wasn’t going to fill my need. I logged off and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning preparing to continue counting the ways I would benefit from not having Elaine in the house. Number one, walking around in my underwear in a totally slovenly fashion. A second benefit of course, was drinking milk right out of the carton. And finally, flipping the computer on to watch porn without having someone looking over your shoulder. I sat reading the paper eating my cereal with porn on in the background. Yep, I had it great. I was miserable.

As I read the paper my concentration strayed to the topic I was trying not to think about because I had no solution. But then it dawned on me, a muscle worship session. I had long regretted not doing a muscle worship session. What was stopping me now?

These hour long sessions featured muscular women and bodybuilders wrestling, arm wrestling, massaging, and lifting and carrying men. Sessions varied but they were always sexual in nature and you could pick out different women, of course, for a price. It seemed to border on prostitution, but the lack of expectation of sex was the main difference, at least that is what I told myself. Of course all of the reviews had labels next to them which I eventually figured out. FS equaled full sex while happy ending revealed hand job. Honestly though, despite my hesitation, I knew I needed to do this if I was ever going to figure out my true attraction for muscular women.

[Jayne Greye]

Would love some feedback if you get the chance…

I prepared in great detail for the sessions. I decided to coincide my session with a visit to Las Vegas to watch a bodybuilding competition. That way I could knock out two birds with one stone. It wasn’t often that a sessionette traveled to New Mexico anyway, so travel was necessary. In addition, I was scheduled to begin therapy soon after my trip. A muscle worship session after I began therapy might not be the best way to handle my ‘problem.’

My research had led me to the conclusion that I should experience a session with a really big girl and a more fit and cut one like a physique competitor. That way I could really explore how much muscle I liked on a woman when I was up close and personal, so to speak.

I started at WB270.com to get an idea of what wrestlers and muscle worship sessions would be available in Las Vegas when I was there. Next, I went to forum saradas to read the countless reviews of different performers. I was focused and finally felt I was accomplishing something for the first time in a days. For the first session I decided to go with an absolutely enormous woman, in terms of muscle. Cosette was just 5’1” but her weight varied between 145 and 200 pounds. Various reports said that her biceps were between 17 and 19 inches. Her pecs were so enormous that her sheets of muscle rivaled a regular sized woman in terms of pure mass in the chest area. There were videos of her taking a hammer and slamming it against her chest with no effect. Fortunately, she would be traveling to the bodybuilding contest in Vegas at the perfect time for an appointment with her. The reviews were so good that I would pay a little extra to see her rather than some of the locals. I sent the email.

The other woman, I took a risk with. She was a local from Las Vegas, and she had no reviews. When I asked people on various forums about her, nobody knew anything. However, the pictures associated with her account were just stunning both in terms of her muscularity and her shape, even though her face was somewhat in the shadows or photoshopped out altogether. Something about her profile led me to want to roll the dice on her, and it wasn’t just her sculpted muscularity which screamed incredible beauty.

My excitement for the trip finally gave way to the plane landing in the Vegas sun. My agenda, attending the summer bodybuilding contest and two muscle worship sessions. I had set them up long in advance and together the sessions would cost $700. One of the women would let me take pictures too. I planned to look at them often to remind me of what I hoped would be a life altering experience. When I arrived I checked in at the hotel closest to where the contest was being held, that still contained a good weight room. With millions of people in Vegas, I held no illusions that muscular women would be filing past me, but why not give it my best shot. I was pleasantly surprised with my room and the pool and lobby. My initial expectations proved mistaken as dozens of ripped, muscular men and women paraded around showing off their bodies.

Unfortunately, many of the women were wearing sweats and baggier clothing but my muscle radar was on high alert. I always had the ability to pick out the most muscular woman in the room within a few seconds. I called it my mudar. One of the teachers I was friends with at school who was gay told me that he had something called gadar. He could tell who in the room was gay when he scanned the room and I didn’t believe him but he proved it at lunch one day. After picking out all the gay men, we went up to them, struck up a conversation and proved he was right. Though my mudar was less impressive, it was still effective. It was on high alert in the Hard Rock Hotel that week.

I checked in and quickly changed into my swimsuit and went to the hotel pool to scout out female bodybuilders. There were many muscular people there, some doubtlessly contestants but most of them were probably fans like me. I was stronger than the average guy and fairly athletic so I normally felt no hesitation sunbathing with my shirt off. Overwhelmed by the display of extreme fitness surrounding me by the pool that day, I balked at removing my tank. I was in the baking Vegas sun, so keeping my clothes on was probably a good idea anyway. I sat back and hidden behind my reflective sunglasses, scanned the pool area for muscular women. Yah, I felt a little scummy for sure, but I felt few qualms in looking given the years I had trained myself to ignore my true desires.

As I sat there, I thought it might be smart to confirm the appointment tonight. I pulled out the phone and it said 2:04 pm on the front. It was less than three hours till our scheduled appointment.

I texted, Hi this is Kyle. 5:00 pm tonight at the Travelodge right? What room number?

I could see the bars indicating she was typing back. Yes, room 301. Do you have any requests?

Full sex was my real interest. I wanted to know what it felt like with a bodybuilder, but I thought if I asked up front it would be straight up prostitution. Instead, I responded, Well, I wouldn’t mind some kind of role-play.

That sounds fun. What would you like me to be? I have a number of costumes.

Other than a school girl, I had no idea of potential costumes. Finally, I threw out. How about a French Maid? Elaine had been that a couple of Halloweens ago. It would be interesting to see the contrast.

Sounds perfect.

I decided to be a bit playful in my last text, hoping it wouldn’t come off badly. The master will see his maid at 5:00 pm sharp.

Lol

Okay, it had gone over well. Two and a half hours to wait. What now?

[Ian T Bamma]

It reads more like an autobiography than fiction. Was that your intent?

[Bane Dorrance]

It reads more like an autobiography than fiction. Was that your intent?

wrote a story about them
“Much of our first book we wrote together is our story. Being truthful about my feelings with her on muscle was the best move I’ve made. I’ll post more of the intro here soon”

[Jayne Greye]

Thanks for your question. It is meant to be realistic muscle fiction rather than astronomical muscle growth fantasy. The first book is largely from our story while this one has only bits and pieces. I’m considering doing a sci-fi muscle story for my next book (based on the characters from the first novel) but that could be awhile in coming.

[Author]

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