Big Clit Obsession

Okay, I confess: I am obsessed with big clits. Watching them swell and pulse, splitting lips as they throb, drives me absolutely feral. It is the first place my eyes go, the pulse I feel deep in my chest.

As more women hit the gym and experiment with hormones, those thick little monsters are becoming a regular sight. Testosterone, cycles, peptides—it all adds mass to their bodies and magic to their clits. These days I notice them everywhere: malls, restaurants, street markets. Rich or poor, there is always another muscle girl walking past with a thickened bud tucked into tight shorts.

Hunting Without Leaving Home#

Scrolling through feeds is a sport now. Slow-motion workout clips, contest prep flexes, close-up transformation reels—they feed the obsession even when I’m stuck at a desk. I bookmark the ones with that swollen hint beneath compression shorts, replay the moments where a thumb drags casually across a thickened tip. It’s research, I tell myself, so the next time I meet one in person I won’t waste a second.

Worship by Appointment#

When I was younger it felt rare, almost mythical. Now it is a daily temptation. I’ve been lucky enough to worship a few up close, and every time I end up on my knees, tongue out, telling myself this is what I was made for. Often they tower above me—shoulders carved, abs rigid—while I devote myself to their clits like a priest before an altar.

Maybe that is why I keep booking sessions with muscle goddesses. I want to be face to face with their power, feel that heavy bud twitch against my lips, and know I am exactly where I belong.

Why I Keep Coming Back#

Part of it is chemistry, sure, but the real hook is certainty. Paying for time means I know I’ll get to center that throbbing bud without apology. No negotiations about whether the focus is “too niche,” no pretending I want anything else. A big clit in my mouth is the truth of me, and a booked session guarantees I can live in that truth as long as the timer lasts.