December 2012

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.


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