BACKGROUND
I used to be one lazy SOB. A little overweight, not very motivated, and well, slovenly. All of that changed when one afternoon when I was plopped on the sofa and the TV remote quit working. If you knew me then, you would know how much this pissed me off. I got up and changed the batteries, but the damn thing still didn't work. SO I took off the cover and started messing with the insides. (I am a plumber by trade, so I had no idea what the hell I was doing in there.)
Well I messed around with it for a few minutes, using some of my plumbing tools, then got pissed off and threw it. "Piece of shit!!" I yelled. I went over and picked it up and put the cover back on it. As I was stupidly pointing it at the TV and pushing the useless buttons, my girlfriend Kimberly walked in.
She was short, plump, and not all that pretty, but she usually put up with my shit, and didn't yell when we argued, so I kept her around. She said, "What are you bitching at now?"
"The goddamn remote is busted! Look!!" I pushed one of the buttons.
She got a faraway look in her eyes and said, "What do you want me to do?"
I was pissed. "Fuck you!" I said. "You can suck my dick, you bitch!"
No one was more shocked than I was when she walked over, pulled down my sweatpants and started sucking my cock.
I later discovered that the remote only works on women.
Chapter 8 - I need a personal Trainer
It was two weeks until the election when my main rival, Mr. Trenton Grasso, made a 'surprise' announcement that he was dropping out of the Mayoral race and resigning from the city council to tend to some 'personal issues' and 'spend more time with his family.' With the support of outgoing Mayor Thompson, and with the help of my special remote control, I was not only a shoe-in to win the election, but I was almost guaranteed the job for life.
Jill was on the rag, and while she was very enthusiastic about sucking my cock and swallowing my cum, I was looking for some new action until her sweet pussy was back in the game.
For a while I had been noticing a little 'middle-age spread' in my belly when I looked in the mirror, and that morning I decided to go and do something about it, so I got up and went in search of a personal trainer. I looked in the phone book, but none of the ads caught my eye. So I pulled up the Internet on my computer and found an ad for Alicia Brown, who, according to her website, had a small private gym which was located between my new house and city hall. I called to see if she was available.
The phone was answered by a very cheerful woman, who turned out to be Alicia herself. She had a very nice southern accent and an infectious laugh. She told me that in fact she had had a cancellation this morning and was available to meet me right away if i could. I said it was perfect timing.
There was a small headshot photo of her on the website, but it did not do her justice. I arrived at her address a half-hour later wearing a sweatsuit and sneakers, and she was there to greet me at the door. She was tiny, maybe 5-1 and of course very fit. I would guess that she was maybe 25 years old, and had lightly tanned skin and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her smiling face was framed by straight blonde hair that was cut short, and her bright blue eyes sparkled as she welcomed me in.
She spent a few minutes with small talk, and then she showed me around the facility. There was an area with small free weights, a few treadmills and climbing machines, and an area with a mat on the floor and a wall of mirrors. Alicia explained that her workouts were geared toward the individual's 'fitness goals' and were designed not to be too strenuous. She told me flat out that if I wanted to be a 'musclehead' that this was not the place for me, and there were plenty of other gyms in town.
We were standing in front of the mirror wall, and I told her that I had not liked what I saw in the mirror lately. She said, "Strip off your clothes."
"What?" I said, caught off guard.
"Strip down to your underwear and show me what you don't like in the mirror. Then we can design a program to work on those problem areas."
Well, one problem area was the large bulge in my pants from seeing her tight body not only in person, but reflected in the mirrors. She was wearing a loose black t-shirt that did not cover her tight stomach, and a pair of black shorts that were not tight, but not long, either. Under her shorts she wore white tights.
Oh well, I decided, she asked for it. I took off my sweatshirt and pulled my sweatpants down to the floor, but couldn't easily get them over my sneakers, so I stood there with them pooled around my ankles.
She walked around me slowly and asked me to point out what I didn't like. I pinched the small love-handles on my sides above the waistband of my boxer-briefs and said, "These have got to go." Then I turned around and pointed to my legs and butt, and said "That's not bad, but could be a little better. I am a plumber after all."
She laughed. "I've seen worse," she said.
I pulled my clothes back on. She made some notes on a clipboard, and then took me over to the hand weights. She explained that we would work on a combined program with some light weight training to tone and shpe the muscles and some aerobics on one or more of the cross-training machines. She was friendly enough, but I could tell that she was all business.
