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A the day of my story? That’s the day I finally met her in the flesh. It was a good line of thought, I’ve later realised, to go through my memories of her and me. How I had been crouched down on my arms and knees and pressing something into my behind for her and the camera. How I had moaned for her and how I had finally sprayed my load over the floor. How she had been in front of her camera, revealing her most adorable little moans whenever she had pinched her nipples. It was a distracting line of thought for me, and before I knew it I was there, more concerned about how tight my pants had gotten than about being nervous. A successful distraction, if anything. And then, she had suddenly just been there. Just a few steps in front of me and we both froze, the other people at the airport speeding by around us in a blur as time seemed to slow to a halt. She smiled, I think. I know I smiled at least, like an idiot, and raised my hand in an awkward, silly little wave that made her laugh as. I was with one of the big fish companies (you know, the ones that caused us all such grief), and in a few years I made a lot of money, and I mean an obscene amount!Towards the end of the first year in London, I noticed I was getting fat. It's possible to gloss over the issue and talk of bring 'well built' and 'bulky', but I was too much of a realist. I was fat, even bordering on obese. Too much sitting at a computer, pub lunches and too much alcohol. I got out of breath running for a bus. Not that I took buses very often, or ran after anything come to think about it, even if it was wearing a miniskirt.So I joined a Gym, and acquired a personal trainer. She, yes, it was a woman, was a very pretty and a very, very fit young woman, but she was also a harridan! She was merciless, designing my exercise routine and ratcheting it up rather faster than I liked. She gave me a diet sheet and I had to fill it in daily; woe betide me if I missed a day! She recommended running to and from the.
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