Trainer

I don’t usually like green smoothies, but this time, I did! (Also: how I lost 40 pounds, gained back 35, and have lost 20. Plus, a spreadsheet!)

On Thanksgiving, I have much to be thankful for. But this post isn’t so much about those things.

This is the first in a series of posts about ways that I’m a little different from what I understand to be the sexual “norm” (to the extent there is one). I like breasts. A lot. I like them big…

There’s a trainer. He’s tall, maybe 42, black. Good looking, stern, severe. He has the bearing of a Marine drill sergeant. He has a thriving business – a constant flow of 20-something, lithe, bordering-on-anorexic models. Each looks like she just…

This is the ad I placed that resulted in my hiring my two trainers (and having a terrific time interviewing a bunch of others): I’m an attractive, driven, professional, successful man. There’s a gaping hole in my life: I can’t…

She greeted me in a spangly white tank-top, with shimmering silver panels, her copious cleavage barely contained by the cotton of the shirt. She wore a tight black miniskirt, her round, meaty ass almost visible at its bottom, her chunky,…

I used to be fat, but then I stumbled on, with the help of my wife, just a little extra motivation:  “Why don’t you hire a hot trainer?” she said. Never one to do things half-assed, or to look a…

We were discussing my recent post on working out, and she had some ideas.  “Why don’t we,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “make better use of the equipment here?” She led me to a bench, and loaded the bar with…

“Do twelve reps!” she barked to me. My triceps were burning.  I didn’t think I could squeeze out five more reps, let alone twelve. She leaned down in front of me, her cleavage in my face.  “I know you can,”…

“Do twelve reps!” she barked to me. My triceps were burning.  I didn’t think I could squeeze out five more reps, let alone twelve. She leaned down in front of me, her cleavage in my face.  “I know you can,”…