I wasn’t feeling particularly fresh or sexy yesterday and in fact I was down right dragging, having made the 4 staircase trip to the Minis at least twice during the night (God, I miss that Night Nanny.) but you know what they say, sometimes you’ve got to “just do it.” So I did.
“Wrap this around your ankle,” he commanded. “That ankle too. That’s right. No, tighter. Good.”
“Hold your hips still, right there, yes! This is beautiful. Like poetry. Excellent!” he cried.
“Jesus, you are a noisy one,” he chuckled, as heavy breathing gave way to grunts and finally outright screaming.
Utterly spent, I fell to my back.
“How was that?” he asked, pulling my knee over his shoulder, leaning forward, our faces just inches apart.
“Awesome. Thanks for that,” I sighed.
Oh God, do I love my very, very gay Fancy Trainer. I’m going to miss him while I’m on holiday. I can only wonder how the gym at our Fancy hotel will measure up.
Be back soon.
xxoo Frau Fancy
p.s. just in case you missed me In The Powder Room this week, it's IVF, private v NHS. Oh yes, I've really done it all.
