My Booty-Shake of Triumph
The first session with my sexy personal trainer could not have gone any better. Even pinching my stomach flab during the evaluation process didn’t get in the way.
I was in top form that night. I did not know I was capable of such charm, especially when in the presence of a guy who looks like he could be a three-quarter size gladiator (he’s very short and weighs less than my own 170 pounds–not that I give a crap. My personal trainer is so sexy that he makes the hot guy from the tattoo parlor a distant second choice for who I most want to get naked with). Normally when I am in the presence of such a beautiful specimen of man-meat, I become a bumbling dumbass who is not capable of any communication more complex than grunting and air-humping.
