Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Glootasm of the Week

This one was a team effort.

And it started with Cindy.

I thought I wouldn't have much in the tank given my excesses over Cathy yesterday. I was sore, don't get me wrong - in a good way, a super-sensitive way, but I wasn't planning on a start-the-day tribute that was too energetic as I checked the old inbox.

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BOOM! Instant reaction. Oh Cindy! And then... what's the story with the fan?! Has Cindy achieved a level of hotness at which she constantly needs to have cooling?

Focus!

Hair, tricep, side boob, follow the line of the thong to her beautiful, bounteous bum.

He was online, the sender. C. Moore got in touch, sent him his own treat. Nothing too ridiculous at this stage, a starter pic - Jules at the beach. Thonged up. Showing it off.

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Of course he took the bate. [bait? - ed.] I know what I wrote - bate.

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Back and forth we went, my "not too energetic" plans turning into an edging session that lasted until lunchtime. If you take your lunch late, that is. These are just some of the highlights that took us both into the Land of Goon and, ultimately, beyond.

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Balcony bikini bums - Yarishna, always a pleasure - such a tease, such a sexhibitionist, such glooteal sex appeal; and this unknown, a silhouette (kind of) of dreams, imagining each other on one leg each, working our ways up from those calves with our lips and our tongues. Drooling, pumping, throbbing, dripping, and we've only just started.

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BOOM! The world starts to recede. Riding the edge feels so good, so right. Gripping the base hard, letting it pulse, letting it leak just enough to use as lube. Typing a lot to make it last, trying to describe what I imagine that ripped glory must feel like ("warm steel"). We decide to take her on together, her pre-contest slave boys. Naked, pulsing, uncontrollably dripping and spurting as we cover every inch of her hard body in oil.

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We transition to "named glootz" and turn our mics on. Riding the edge becomes a lot trickier with no typing - and thus no breaks in motion - to help. Experience counts for a lot at this stage. I keep well away from the head, gripping near the base and going staccato works for me - but you need to find your own way to the happiest place of all.

And so we goon. Speaking becomes tricky enough. I would say we debated the various merits of these magnificent examples of womanly gloothood, but you hardly call my bud yelling "Zoa is FERRRRRRM bruvva!" and me yelling "Yeah but Michaela is HAAAAAAARD dude!" a debate as such, but the pleasure, the sheer physical pleasure (expressed in moans, in gasps, in animal yelps and bellows) flows through our bodies with beautiful intensity, and sharing the feeling takes it to a whole new level of ecstasy.

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Eyes rolling back in my head I suggest, as best I can that exhibit A on the train, and exhibit B, in the bedroom are the same girl. He gets it, despite the wildly differing hair colours, and that's why I love doing this with him. With minimal verbal communication and maximum female muscle lovin' telepathy we dream she picks us up on the tube (our tentpoles give us away) and makes us her playthings for one glorious night.



And then he sends me this, and we start the countdown...

"Down from 10, alternate numbers."

"Let's do it bruvva!"

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Alessandra Alvez's beautiful bum has the (perhaps dubious) honour of receiving our gargantuan, bucket-filling loads on this occasion, but really they belong to all the magnificent women and all the mighty muscle glootage we have shared today.

The clean up begins. Can it be almost 1.30pm? Was that really the best part of five hours?! And it's November, so it's already starting to get dark outside. Whatever. Today, no matter what happens this afternoon and evening, is already a good day.

Monday, 20 November 2017

Great Glootz of the 21st Century: Cathy

Well, you have asked for my favourites, so I'll tell you. Be warned though, C. Moore does not have too many surprises for you - all five of the women I've selected as my greatest of the century (so far) are probably on your list as well. If you have one.

Cathy comes first. My choice for 21st century Greatest will be last.

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Some women achieve incredible contest glootage at maybe one or two shows in their competitive lives. Very few achieve it again and again in their career, and Cathy LeFrançois has arguably done it better than anyone for well over two decades.

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But as groin-activating as contest shots of Cathy invariably are, C. Moore is probably not alone in treasuring Cathy's hotel room pre-contest gloot displays just that little bit more than any other images of her rear. And then there's that legendary clip of her...



I can't write any more today. I need milking.

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Watch this.

Oh Cathy...

Sunday, 19 November 2017

Supranatural

C. Moore, I am very pleased to say, is getting mail.

Seems some of you are actually appreciating my temporary takeover here.

Many of you also have questions, the majority on subjects which are scheduled to be answered in future posts - I still have (dare I say, at least?) two more weeks to go.

However, there were a couple of things that I wanted to set straight today.

First, no, of course it's not my bloody real name. My real first name does actually begin with C, but that is just a coincidence. C. Moore Glootz is a parody of - not a homage to - Seymore Butts, American pornographer. And without wishing to appear unkind, a fairly obvious one I would have thought. So now you know. Thanks for asking!

Secondly, there have been more than a few messages wanting me to declare "what kind of glutes" I prefer, more or less explicitly asking me to choose between Bikini-type girls, the various forms of Figure/Bodyfitness, Physique ladies, or big bad FBBs.

I don't discriminate.

I'm for all of them. And more.

Crossfit, athletics, beach volleyball, gymnastics... You name it, and if there are muscular rears on show I will watch and enjoy. Yes, OK, my top favourite behinds ever tend to come from the Female Bodybuilding realm, but that might be because during my formative muscle butt lovin' years there was no Bikini, no Figure/Bodyfitness, and no Physique either, so the vast majority of the gorgeous glootage I saw in that period in my life belonged to FBBs. These days, of course, there are relatively few of those.

Probably the best idea is for me to illustrate what I mean with some of the more recent additions to my "Special Favourites" folder. All shapes and sizes, all incredibly hot.

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I guess what they all have in common is "unnaturalness", whether that means they are unnaturally big and round - take Anastasia's above, so gargantuan they leave rooms a good few seconds after her sunglasses do - or of the more shredded, tighter, harder - perhaps more obviously unnatural - variety. Either way, all these women have trained their behinds; none would look like this if they had simply let nature run its course.

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So perhaps "supranatural" would be a better way of describing their bums (and their bodies in general). Smooth or shredded, Figure or Physique, Bikini or Bodybuilding, all women who lift are engaged in a fight to transcend what nature would have them be.

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Have you seen Lauren Martin Stow's recent work with HerBiceps? The clips where she is in the street somewhere busy, wearing more than she could have got away with sure, but still showing off plenty. When I got over the amazement that not one guy had stopped and reached for his crotch to pay tribute - as C. Moore would have done (in times past, not since I got fixed, I should say), I began to fully appreciate just how ridiculously different LMS looks to every single other woman who walks into shot, a contrast so stark an alien visitor would think they were different species altogether.

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And there would be little doubt which species was superior.

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So the answer to the question is simply "supranatural ones". And I will continue to scratch my head at anyone who insists they "only go for FBBs" or whatever. These categories are arbitrary anyway, defined not by the women themselves, but by aging men in suits. Why pay any attention to them? Just celebrate the supranatural.

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Glootasm of the Week

Not exactly retro, but not exactly current either, I guess doing last week's NABBA Universe report got me pining for glutes that were slightly more front and centre, slightly thicker, and a lot more shredded than the Class of 2017 had to offer...

And Kay Goodwin's amazing routine from last year came to mind.

Kay starts her glorious routine with her beautiful bum confronting the judges and the audience, and by my reckoning spends a staggering 46% of the time she's on stage showing off her best feature. The front facing sections of her performance are mere transitions to the next time she puts her glutes in everyone's faces, and she finishes off (and more often than not finishes me off) with the only "glute bow" I've ever seen.

It's a clip I'd have worn out if it had been on one of my treasured old VHS cassettes. I've used it to warm up at the beginning of a session, to stay strong in the middle of one, and to provide release time and time again in the last year, and this week alone it has accounted for upwards of 20 (I stopped counting on Thursday) great big messes.

Enjoy!


Friday, 17 November 2017

The (Mis)Adventures of C. Moore Glootz II

Catch up with Part I here.

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Not the object of my teenage affections - she was way better-looking!

School did not end well for C. Moore. In retrospect, my attempts to win the heart of the only female P.E. teacher under 40 were, though heartfelt, rather misguided. I was asked to leave before taking my A-levels, and, somewhat understandably, there wasn't much enthusiasm among local schools to welcome C. Moore into their communities.

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At home my bedroom was adorned with pictures of muscular goddesses carefully cut out of muscle magazines (I always bought two copies of everything - one to destroy and one for the files), so you can probably imagine what my own family thought of me.

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I sweated out that summer working all hours in a dry cleaning shop, saving almost every penny - I even stopped buying magazines, although I did steal a few. It was time for C. Moore to follow his passion. And so, on an unseasonally chilly September morning, with my father, mother and sister dutifully (but cheerily) waving me goodbye, I boarded my flight to the Land of Female Muscle. Destination - New York.

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Central Park - but not in my experience

I'd like to say the States were everything I'd hoped they would be, but sadly my act - illegal (after my tourist visa had run out), unskilled, secondary school dropout with questionable social skills and probably too many questions about where the local gyms were - didn't play very well in New York, and nor did it play well in California, Hawaii (though I swear I saw Marjo Selin drive by while I was there) and Phoenix, Arizona.

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But down in Florida, which was my last hope - I hitched there from Arizona, sleeping on gas station roofs when the weather allowed, bus stations when it didn't - I finally found some work with accommodation thrown in, and C. Moore became the handyman at a small resort complex just outside Tampa. I didn't see any female muscle there, but at least I wasn't destitute anymore, and the season was pretty much neverending.

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I stayed - for two years. I got good at fixing pretty much anything, and even developed some social skills. I went running along the beach (never saw a single muscular bum, not one), but I got a great tan. I experienced my first hurricane. And my second. I lost my virginity, but not, as I imagined I would, to a female bodybuilder who I'd marry.

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Tera Guzman, a good few years later

And I went to my first Bodybuilding show. The 1998 NPC Florida Championships. Kerri Crotty won the Overall, though Tera Guzman and Christine Wan are probably the most familiar names from the eleven who I saw compete that day.

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Christine Wan, not in her 1998 Bodybuilding shape

To say that this was the excitement and experience I had crossed the pond and suffered so much hardship for would be a little wide of the mark. Looking back now I wonder at my naivety - I really did think I would be able to just saunter into the pump room, and I really did think once I was there that it would be OK to just feel up some prime female beef. I honestly thought they would be grateful to meet a true fan.

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My last few nights in the US were spent in a hospital with a cop sitting next to my bed. As soon as I was discharged, I was deported. C. Moore was driven to the airport at the expense of the county taxpayers, and a big black X was stamped into my passport to ensure I would never return to American soil. I've never tried. But as soon as the plane landed me back in Blighty I set about planning the next contest I would attend.

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For a brief - a very brief - moment (and as totally wrong and inappropriate as my behaviour was) (how's that?) [fine - legal dept.] I had laid my hands upon a muscular female body. Everything that happened next - the shouting, the bleeding, the pain, the handcuffs, the mugshot, the hospital food, the piss-taking cops - had been worth it.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Natalia Brings Us Together

We female muscle heads are a much more disparate bunch than we are usually given credit for, but there are moments when we (more or less) er, come together.

That's what Swell says anyway. Needed a bit of help with this post, and thankfully the main man's vacation has taken him away, but not out of mobile range, and C. Moore has found that as well as having the FMS minions at my disposal, I also have a phone that I don't have to pay the bill for. They might regret that. Ol' Swell had a fair fair few opinions and views on the subject of today's post, and C. Moore is not a fast typist.

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Apparently, we're already into the 2018 Olympia qualification series, and San Diego's Ultimate Warriors Pro (Women's Physique only) is (one of?) the first contests of said series. Hold up, C. Moore! I hear you cry. Surely you've made a mistake. "Women's Physique only", but that's Natalia Coelho above, and she competes in Figure.

Indeed she did.

DID.

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Her last (probably) show in Figure was the Olympia - according to Swell, that is, the minions being far too busy tracking down perfectly striated glutes in the highest possible definition to check these things right now. Swell says she didn't place, which seems to C. Moore to be a bit unlikely given the evidence before my eyes (and my joy trumpet, which is damn near singing already). Anyway, guess she had enough after that and decided to flex for her supper in Physique. What an entrance she's made!

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Natalia @Figure Olympia 2017

So it's one Physique show, one win. And it's not like she beat nobody (Swell says). There were 20 women in all, including 2017 Physique Olympians Melissa Pearo and Margita Zamolova, plus Antoinette Downie who was an Olympian in 2016. Also in the line-up and making their pro debuts were Russian sensation Valentina Mishina and Brazil's 2017 Arnold Amateur Physique winner Priscila Cavilha.

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The Competition - top: Downie (2nd), Pearo (5th); bottom: Mishina (4th), Cavilha (3rd)

Natalia was several cuts above them all - again, I'm paraphrasing. Her conditioning was as jaw-dropping as it had been in Las Vegas, but here it counted for, not against, her.

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Natalia @Ultimate Warriors Pro 2017

It was a "moment", Swell says, returning to the thoughts we started this post with. Natalia moving up to Physique has caused a fair stir, it seems, a stir Swell thinks is much like Dani Reardon in St,Louis, or Shannon Courtney at the NPC USAs, or Alina's first Olympia, or Sarah Hayes that time in Tampa... He went on, and he went back, but C. Moore couldn't keep up. He'd started babbling, and rather than run up the phone bill (editorial, take note of C. Moore's economising) I made out he was breaking up and cut him off. I'd got the gist - many many joy trumpets sounding out more or less simultaneously as the contest photos go up. For a day or two at any given moment there is a Natalia tribute happening somewhere in the world. For a day or two we (maybe not all of us, but the vast majority) are all looking at the same body.

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All coming [sic - ed.] together.