Weight Training

Eighteen months ago, I'd become a real slob. Four failed "romances" and being held in low regard at work had driven me to a chocolate, beer and fast food diet. I piled on the pounds and the inches.
It all started to change when I got a new job. I helped many people solve problems they couldn't and was gaining their respect in the process. In short, I began to feel good about myself again. At about this time I realized that I was being rejected by almost all of the women I asked out. In fact, my right hand had become my best friend over the past six months.
The reasons for these rejections became apparent one evening whilst running to the bus stop to catch the number 51. I was out of breath almost immediately and felt as though someone was pounding on my chest with a hammer by time the bus had pulled away without me. It was obvious! I was completely unfit.
While waiting for the next bus, I noticed the "Muscle Madness" gym across the street. Before I got home that night, I'd got a year membership to the gym and a personal fitness program set up.
Half a year later, I was back to my old self. Actually, I was in the best shape I'd ever been in. I was getting plenty of dates and my wrist muscles weren't working nearly as hard. Even with these improvements, I still felt I needed to be in better shape, In short I had fallen into the "perfect body" syndrome. I felt my upper body had developed well ahead of my legs and abdominal area. Having had several promotions, I had a surplus of cash each month, so I decided to splash out and pay for my own personal trainer.
At first, Karen didn't appeal to my lustful side. Average size, brown hair in a typical bob, she was just the person who advised me on my diet and made sure I worked damn hard on all of the equipment.
However, as the weeks went on, I began to notice the finer qualities of this beautiful woman. Her breast weren't large, but they were perfectly formed and when straining against her lycra cropped top looked incredibly firm. I always enjoyed joint workouts as the sweat glistened on her perfectly flat abdomen. Some of her cycling shorts would ride up into the cleft of her buttocks and I could see they didn't need any support. Pursaklar Escort I found my attention drifting to her with alarming regularity. Quite often I would have to turn to one side or fake a stitch to hide an erection from view.
This evening I had booked a session from nine ?til ten and was really looking forward to it. The computer at work had other ideas, just as I had finished the last entry, it decided to trash the whole file! It was needed the next day, so I had to phone to cancel the session. Karen answered the phone and that made me feel worse about having to miss out. Luck was with me though, as she said she would keep the gym open for me because I was a valued customer. As I fixed the file, I was spurred on by thoughts of the gorgeous Karen.

I duly arrived at ten to be greeted by Karen, "for being late and keeping me here, I'm going to make you sweat". I was a little disappointed with her attire as she was wearing a loose fitting gray flannel tracksuit. True to her word, she made me lift, push, pull