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.
Thanks AlexG, And good luck on the story JG, the excerpt was an interesting read