Back At The Gym

I got myself off the couch at 10.30am and got to the gym.

I thought about the cute guy in the tiny shorts and the colourful tattoos with the big, thick dick, I can't lie, but nothing that interesting happened.

There is an older chick with a young blond trainer. He has terrible over-sized black shorts on that make him look like he has a big girl’s arse. They are not doing him any favours. The older chick has big tits and every time she finishes a rep her t-shirt has kind of bunch at the top of her tits, kind of making them look bigger every time. All I can think is, just imagine lugging those puppies around. No thanks.

There is a bald guy, with an boyish adorable face, dressed all in black also exercising the gym he has a nice tight little arse on him by the look of it.

There is also a tall guy with earmuff headphones on, I think he is one of the trainers.

10:45am. The cute, muscly accountant with the square, black metal glasses who always wears a muscle top arrives. He reminds me of the first guy who had the hots for me when I first came out, so it’s always good to see him.

I start my 20 minutes on the bike. I’m getting back into it quickly. The burn on my legs is bearable already.

The bald guy leaves.

The tall trainer in large, big-girls-arse, shorts and his middle aged female client leaves.

The muscled accountant with the square, black rimmed glasses leaves. Bye honey.

I finish on the bike.

So then, I was working out with one of the big tall trainer, I call Lurch. Just at the same time, you understand, not being trained by. There are a few trainers who work at my gym and they are all really tall.

I listened to the Rolling Stones and did my workout.

So, that's pretty good, I've been four times in the last week, or so, since I got myself back to going.

Good for me.

11:06am. I leave the gym. The muscled accountant, with the square, black rimmed glasses, leaves at the same time. He’d been in the downstairs gym all along doing free weights.

I gaze at his arse in black shorts as I walk down the street behind him.

I re-write my old blogs for the rest of the day.

Late in the afternoon, we take the dogs for a walk.

There is an adorable English boy sitting outside at the Townhall Pub looking at his phone. He says something about Brun as we walk past. Did I bring Brun back because of how cute he was. Yeah, sure I did. (But I would do the same for other people, yes, I would)

“This is Brun,” I say to the cute English boy.

He pats Brun telling Brun how gorgeous he is. You too buddy, I think as I watch on. He says I made his day because he’s obsessed with bulldogs. He smiles at me. Adorable, with an adorable English accent. Takes me back to my days overseas when guys were attracted to me because of my accent.

“Just keep talking,” they would say. Truthfully, that was the American boys, more so than the English lads.