On the first day of Christmas my trainer gave to me: one bottle of almond oil; two hands rubbing said oil all over my body; four warming pads; ten fingers gliding up, down and around my ass, thighs and groin; countless trailing feather touches along my lips; teasing pressure everywhere around (but not in) the throbbing honeypot; and frustration in a pear tree.
The cover sheet pretense is over and I stopped worrying about my body’s obvious response to his touch two massages ago. Tranquil chants and music play in the background but the only thing I meditate on is how to make it through without moaning or escalating things. I should mention bK gives me these massages in his underwear. Physical and visual temptation in the desert – without any angels offering relief or reward if I survive without surrender.
Massage Rating: Approximately 60 minutes long. 9.8/10. Thoroughly enjoyed what was offered but did not ask for more. Resolve steadily deteriorating. I went to brunch very relaxed…and very tense.
Whether rain or shine, pleasant or tense, serious voice or jokes – the workouts continue. I am in the best physical shape I have been in since grad school. Tomfoolery aside bK is a good trainer.