Thots by HotBod

2006-10-19T14:15:00.000+08:00

Beautiful Flasher

She was to be married to a tycoon’s son. A private banker and part-time model, both careers now shelved. She had a new job…rich man’s wife. Her first assignment was to plan and organize an elaborate and breath-taking wedding. Project budget $5 million. Project Deadline – 9 months.

This is how her soon to be in-laws made their money… the hard way. Grandpa was a collie on a construction site, he raised dad well, they worked hard and became labour contractors. Soon they acquired machinery and leased them out to other construction sites. With prudent management and a healthy cash flow, they ventured into property development. Success continued. Junior was educated in an ivy-league college, graduating top of his class. He joined the family business and within 10 short years propelled it internationally through an acquisition of hotels and masterminding cutting-edge high-end residential development. This is your rags-to-riches modern day fairy-tale, and Carmen would soon be the princess.

“Six months and counting!” she told me as we entered the room to take her measurements.

Getting herself in tip-top shape was part of her wedding plan. She has been working out under my boot camp regime for half a year now and was looking absolutely ravishing.

“You know when I first saw you; I didn’t think we could make much of a difference as you were already very slim.” I confided “But your body definition has improved tremendously, you take to sculpting very well.”

“Hey it’s thanks to your expertise. I’m very happy with the results. Of course knowing that the media is going to go trigger-happy on me in another 3 months has been a huge motivation!”

I just love an appreciative client, but I love it more when I get results from a determined one. She lifted up her top so I could take her measurement with a pair of calipers. I did a brief calculation with the caliper results from the 3 parts of her body (Johnson and Pollock body fat test - triceps, abs, and thigh) and was proud to announce that we were right on target with a body fat measurement of 17%!

“I tell you HB it’s all because of you. I’ve been working out either on my own or with other trainers for years and I’ve never got the way I am now. All the credit goes to you!” She was beaming from ear to ear.

“Never have my shoulders been this well-defined and …I’ve got to show you…my chest muscles are so toned that my breasts are just pulled up at the right places…see…”

With that declaration she lifts up her top to reveal 2 cherry pink nipples on yes I must say, apparently thanks to me, very nice looking pair of breasts!

Ladies, please…

I know you confide in me during our weekly sessions and sometimes I may even seem like a best friend or a therapist, but I am not your gynecologist! As much as I would like to exercise professionalism, baring your breasts to me at the most unexpected moment will result in my getting a hard-on. It’s as simple as that! I am after all a hot blooded male! Scrutinising your body through your exercise attire, no matter how skimpy is very different from looking at you bare-breasted. I do not appreciate having to hide a hard-on while parading around the gym with you for the next hour as we go through your work-out!

There are women, beautiful and sensual as they are, who are not aware of their “charms”. These are women who embrace life innocently and whole heatedly. They befriend others easily and will trust you as if they have known you for years. They demand and expect loyalty from you, just as they will so easily give you theirs. They have close friends of both sexes and from all walks of life who span the entire racial divide. They are citizens of the world, a term which implies sophistication and yet this person is pure simplicity. Totally oblivious to the effect they have on others, they are angels on earth.

Or are they really?

A social-climbing strategist can always be suspected but never 100% detected. Such is the ambiguity of emotional manipulation.

Carmen’s dream wedding went off without a hitch. The paparazzi adored her as she made her celebrity debut at her wedding. Thereafter she was seen at all the glamorous events beautifully decked in the finest clothes and jewellery. Her days were spent organizing charity events for which she always got huge publicity. The public needed a princess and I guess, in her, they got one…

2006-10-19T08:41:00.000+08:00

A Fine Line (continued)

For the rest of the day, Ian and I tried not to look at each other. It wasn’t difficult, we both had full schedules. We went home without saying a word. I really don’t know who was more uncomfortable.

The next morning, business as usual, but approaching lunch, as he finished with his 10.30am client, I knew one of us had to say something, and it had to be me…

“Hey man, free to workout?”

A smile of relief gently broke from his lips which suddenly looked rosebud-like. “Oh for god’s sake stop it you idiot!” I wanted to slap myself! As if Ian could suddenly turn soft over a day.

“Sure, just let me change I’ll be with you in a sec!”

With that he scrambled up the stairs in shall I say a very macho way.

Man, this was really getting to me; I was scrutinizing his every move!

He came down. We worked out, counting every rep with auditor-like accuracy. I don’t recall ever speaking to him so technically about everything we did. We were both skirting the issue, it was obvious… and extremely uncomfortable.

Finally, after an exhausting work-out, both physically and emotionally, I must say, we had a quick shower and went off for lunch.

This time it was just me and him, neither called anyone else.

“Hey about what happened yesterday…” Ian started, “I hope you keep it to yourself”

“Yeah, yeah of course dude, don’t worry” I was only too eager to offer any assistance after all it was I who infringed his privacy.

He knew I wasn’t a homo-phobe, but he sensed I was in absolute shock over yesterday. I thought the conversation would end at that and that this issue would be closed but no Ian wanted to elaborate:

“You know how I used to teach PE at the Catholic school? I was caught in a compromising situation with a 16 year old boy.” It was my first job I was 22 at the time. The school gave me a year to find another job and resign on my own because my father was so active in the Catholic community and had done a lot to raise funds for the school. This was also the school where I spent my secondary years. They cut me a lot of slack for which I am eternally grateful. My parents never knew about the incident.”

“You mean you’ve been gay all this while?”

Maybe I should have found a better way of putting it but I was totally dumbfounded at the time.

“Yes and no. I’ve always liked girls too! I guess I’m just very flexible with my preferences.” Ian said calmly.

“So for convenience, you just let your hetero side show?” I asked

“Yeah you could say that. Why rock the boat when you don’t have to, right?”

At that point I realized that I was sounding like an inquisitive pubescent. Wide-eyed and gawking. Whether silent or talking I just felt extremely uncomfortable, Ian on the other hand was matter-of-factly answering all my questions like a patient older brother.

It seemed like he and Angie would be announcing wedding plans anytime soon. Ian was as nonchalant as if this was just a one night stand he expected a buddy to understand. I was the one feeling awkward.

Not quite sure how to end this post so we’ll just let the matter rest right here…

2006-09-22T18:20:00.000+08:00

A Fine Line

The morning was uneventful. I had three sessions back-to-back with my loyal regulars. The gym was rather quiet by 11.30am. Two other personal trainers were with their clients, there were no other members around so the cleaning staff took the opportunity to mop the floors. As they sloshed around, the floors gleamed with a moist shine and there was a faint aroma of disinfectant in the air. Ah…love the smell of fresh floors!

It was time for my own work-out. Ian, my usual work-out partner was nowhere to be seen. Also a personal trainer, we joined the gym at the same time about 4 years ago. Most trainers at this gym come from a sports background. Ian used to be on the national cricket team and was later trained as a physical education teacher. He went on to teach at a prestigious Catholic boys school, but found that working with children was not his thing. Ironically, now he’s being paid about 3 times more doing basically the same thing; teaching! (lol)

Still not able to spot Ian, I started on my own, he would see me and join me later. Thirty minutes lapsed, I had completed a 6km run on the treadmill and still no Ian. “I’ll just row till I see him.” I thought.

Another 20 minutes went by and Ian was still nowhere in sight. He would have to warm-up in 5 minutes so we could start on weights immediately. I knew he had a 1.30pm appointment, and I’ll be damned if I had to skip lunch, so if he started now we would have to rush.

Maybe, he packed a lunch and was eating in the pantry. I ran up the stairs and checked the pantry. Not a soul. Drinks bar? No Ian. Video library? Sometimes he gets carried away chatting to a member about the latest foreign flick he’s seen. No, not there either. Surely he can’t be taking a dump all this while? Dozed off in the office again, maybe? I ran down the stairs again, opened the office door but only Mae was there engrossed in her month-end report, a compilation of all the PTs payment claims for sessions done.

“Have you seen Ian?” I asked Mae.

“Not since early this morning. Tell him to submit his hours to me by 2pm or he wont be paid this month!” She ordered. “By the way, I had a lot of trouble reading your hand-writing!”

Part of Mae’s job is to submit our session-claims so we get paid. Most of us work on a free-lance basis. Mae is on a salary with fixed hours. She’s on hand to help members with any questions on their work-out and she generally ensures that things run smoothly on “the floor”.

There was only one place left... the changing room. Perhaps he was taking a dump and reading the newspapers from cover-to-cover! I walked past the toilet cubicles, three were vacant, a cleaning staff was scrubbing the fourth.

I walked over to the showers, my last stop, there was nowhere else to look. This was the most unlikely place though. Why would he shower if he hadn’t worked out. Then in one of the shower recesses I saw a familiar t-shirt peeping out from under a curtain. It was Ian’s red Nike top… but the shower was not on!

“Ian! Where the hell have you been! I’ve been loo…”

I sprang down on all fours and did the downward half of a push-up to look under the curtain.

In that instant, I was curious about why he was taking so long and why the shower was not on.

What I saw made me regret not giving him that ounce of privacy that every human being expects behind a drawn curtain.

Let’s just say; Ian was not alone, and the other person was not a woman!

I left the changing room. My legs felt wobbly as I walked down the stairs. As far as I knew, Ian was as straight as an arrow, no a javelin, better yet a giant flagpole! We double dated on a few occasions, when I was still seeing “the one”. We went to Bali with Angie, his current girlfriend of 5 years. Ian and I have spent many a pub night scrutinizing the latest cleavages in town. There was absolutely no reason to think he was gay.

I went to the free weights section. For 5 minutes I must have been doing bicep curls and tricep pull-overs with weights I would’ve given my 80 year old grandmother. Then decidedly, I walked off to have lunch on my own…

WITHOUT showering!

2006-09-17T18:47:00.000+08:00

Payment in Kind

I was at Sherry’s apartment the other day. The ice has been broken, she’s been continuing our usual sessions, (fitness work-outs, that is), and there’s been no mention of the…ahem… cheque.

I called her, it was a Sunday afternoon, after watching 2 DVDs, an Australian flick “Lantana” and a Mexican “Battle in Heaven” I had nothing much to do. Amazingly, she was also free and very eager to have me over.

We sat on her Persian silk carpet, listening to the Eagles, sharing a smoke (we both had given up, this was a compromise) and sipping on champagne.

“You didn’t bank in the cheque did you?” she asked out of the blue.

“Oh, didn’t think you’d notice.” I tried to sound nonchalant

“Well in that case, I’ll just have to pay you in kind!”

with that she pulled down the throw from her sofa, gave me a cushion and made me lay on my front and gave me a massage.

My shirt was taken off, my pants pulled down and before I knew it I was down to my CKs. She massaged the knots in my shoulders and neck then she went into her room to get some oil. That faint scent of nutmeg, her confident touch and the hypnotic sound of Hotel California was getting me totally relaxed. We hardly spoke. She seemed to know what she was doing and was doing it very well. I was glad I was there and was completely comfortable in her hands.

She sat astride me to rub my lower back, with her bare thighs on the two sides of my hips, I realized that she had taken off her Levis and was just clad in a white linen shirt.

After about half an hour, she spoke.

“You know I didn’t mean to insult you by paying you HB. I just wanted to convey that I’m not looking for a relationship right now. This is of course a friendship and if we can handle it…lust”

Now this is a responsible soul, I thought to myself. By saying “we” she actually was concerned about “me”.

“Don’t worry, I’m a big boy” I said half sleepily as she turned me to lie on my back after about half an hour of sheer bliss.

“That’s what I want to hear, now let’s see that big boy pop out!”
She pulled down my CKs, as we both chuckled, my eyes still half closed.

I began to sit up, anticipating some action, but she firmly held my shoulders and made me lie down. She massaged my temples and my forehead. I didn’t know whether to go to sleep or get ready to fuck.

“Just close your eyes, relax…”

Suddenly I felt a firm breast brush the side of my cheek and a nipple close to my lips. I stuck out my tongue to lick its tip while I reached to pull her closer. I sucked her nipples eagerly, she had totally unbuttoned her shirt but it was still on her. I sucked on one breast and then the other, caressing her within her white linen shirt.

Her hands made their way down to my already erect cock, but hardly touched it. Instead she slathered more oil over my stomach and began massaging it in a circular motion, generating some heat from the friction. She moved down to my thighs and with her entire palm and partial body weight ran her palm down the length of my thighs. By this time I was throbbing my way up like a 90 degree flag pole. By now 45 minutes had lapsed, and my cock still hadn’t gotten any attention!

Her back was facing me, I sat up to play with her breasts and then took off her lace white panties. I made her sit on my lap as I fingered her clit and inserted my middle finger deep into her vagina. Yup she was wet alright!

Her back still toward me I guided her to sit astride me while I inserted my bulging cock into her vagina and laid back down to enjoy the ride. She moved ever so slowly…up….down…up…down. Then to my amazement she moved my legs to a figure of four. You know how we make ab crunches more effective by crossing one leg over the other? She then slowed down her “ride” and started massaging my shin and calves.

Ok under normal circumstances that would’ve been great, but, hell I couldn’t take it anymore. Enough of the massage! I had to get some action or die from frustration!

I moved her into the missionary position and just pumped as fast as I could. I was bursting! I knew this may not be enough for her but once I started there was no turning back. The whole massage-foreplay thing was just too long and dragged out. I had to come… Now!...Now!...Argh!!

I collapsed on the throw beside her, Persian carpet was safe. I moved my hand to carress her but she got up promptly, covered me with another throw, gave me more pillows and … proceeded to massage my feet. Being flat footed, the arches of my feet often ached. She seemed to instinctively know what to do. At the end of which, she whispered in my ear,
“Payment in kind!”

And with that she left me to doze while she had a shower. I had never felt so pampered in my life. Maybe I should have paid her!

2006-09-12T22:13:00.000+08:00

Women turning 40

My birthday is coming up soon and I’ll be 30. The end of youth and the beginning of the decade of responsibility. What is it about going up a decade that’s so different from other birthdays? The other day I was just thinking out loud while updating my client profiles when...

“Oh shut up! I’m about to turn 40, and I’m a woman!” said Mae.

Mae is the part-time fitness assistant who comes in for the morning shift. She is a mum of a 6 year old and a 9 year old; can easily pass off for someone 10 years younger and has been the subject of many a male member’s roving eye.

“Do you know why turning 40 is so bad?” She asks challengingly.

I shook my head submissively, knowing that I had struck a very sensitive chord.

“At 40 you can theoretically have a child who’s 20, and that is definitely an adult! I could actually have an affair with someone young enough to be my son. Gross!” Mae exclaimed.

Note, only women think this kind of age gap is “gross”, men think having a sexual partner 20 years younger is flattering or a great achievement..

“This means that I would have well and truly transcended from “Babe” to “Aunty”! One morning I’m going to wake up, take one look at myself in the mirror and I’ll suddenly be middle-aged and matronly. I’ve seen that happen to my friends you know? You don’t see someone for 6 months, then “Bang!” the next time you bump into her, there are lines on her face, her hips have spread and she walks like her mother. Overnight I could change into my mother!!!”
Mae declared hysterically.

Ok, so it seems that Mae has been thinking about this for quite awhile. In my profession, I’ve helped many women cheat the hands of time. But I must say, that while the body can look ageless with regular cardio and a good weights routine, as for the face…not so easy. Still I had to say something to comfort my colleague…

“Hey c’mon, some women actually look better in their 40’s. There’s Madonna, remember how chubby she used to look when she first came bopping out into the scene? The older Madonna is so much more sophisticated and lean. Have you seen her on MTV lately? Fantastic! Ok, so the music video isn’t exactly my style, but you must admit Madonna looks good.”
I could see Mae was listening to me intently.

“And Demi Moore? Don’t you think that body is just chiseled to perfection? In Charlie’s Angels she was an absolute goddess, making her entrance in a black skin tight suit with the wind blowing through her straight long hair and later running around in a bikini carrying a surf board in slow-mo….Now those are images a guy of any age could absolutely jerk-off to. In fact, I frequently do!” This I declared with absolute conviction.

She broke out into a wry smile.

“Your expressions never fail to disgust me; but point taken!” Mae continued… “Did you know that there’s a 15 year age gap between Ashton and Demi and an almost 10 year gap between Madonna and Guy Ritchie?”

“And in a US magazine survey, it was found that one third of unmarried women between the ages of 40 and 60 were actually dating younger men” she stated the facts as if trying to convince herself.

It was evident that ‘somebody’ had been doing research, but I kept my mouth shut.

Women past 40 happen to be my main group of clients and while there are many who behave a generation older and talk like a school marm, there are a few individuals who have fantastic sex appeal. These individuals have really got it together. They could be a single woman heading a law practice, a “tai-tai” lady of leisure, a dedicated mother…there’s really no career stereotype. What they have is an air of self confidence, a knowing that they could attract a man if they wanted and an open mindedness that does not stagnate them to a particular era.

By 40 most women would have gone through a tragedy or some grave disappointment in life. When taken in the right way, these experiences add character as well as an aura of mystery to a woman. There is power in a woman who knows that life can take many turns and that there’s no absolute answer to many questions.

As for physical appearances, your priority should be to work on your legs and butt, and to target getting a great pair of shoulders. Men always size you up from the back first. A firm ass could be your be your best ass..et! Ha! Ha!

So to all the Maes in this world, walk tall and let your inner beauty shine through.

Hmm….I haven’t seen Sherry for sometime…I think I’ll give her a call!

2006-09-05T20:20:00.000+08:00

Mid-Life Crisis

“You know, you are very focused for someone your age…”

“Why thank you!” I gushed, genuinely flattered.

“Hey forget about the “your age” bit, you’re very focused for someone my age.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” genuinely puzzled this time.

I knew something was bothering Sergio this evening. This 42 year old MD of an international law firm was unusually quiet and aloof.

“I don’t know what I want anymore. I’m kinda lost.” This was not the usual Sergio.

“Hey man, what are you talking about? You’re the ultimate success story, great job, dream car, beautiful wife and great kids. What else could you want?” I asked.

“Precisely…HB…I should be ecstatic but I’m not. Something’s missing…
All my life I followed the rules…get a degree, get a job, get the girl, climb the ladder, marry the girl, get the house, the merc, the kids, climb the ladder some more.” Said Sergio, looking confused.

“Well if we’re talking about being focused, then that’s what you’ve been. And now you’re where most people would like to be.”

“I know, I know, sometimes I’m disgusted with myself. For all the suffering in this world, I should be so happy.”

We did 3 sets of shoulder presses with 60kg weights, and then took a breather before we proceeded to work on his lats. Sergio was lean and trim, his main priority is improving his fitness and he would usually come up with 3 monthly goals and achieve them with my help. He’s very motivated, my role is merely…hmm… technical advisor, but now after 9 months of training, it looks like “confidant” is about to be thrown in.

“I broke someone’s heart today.”

“Ok, so this is it…” I thought to myself.

“I misjudged her…she was such a free spirit and so carefree…I wanted to share her world.” Serg looked as if he really needed to get this off his chest.

“I didn’t think she would take me seriously. She lives her life the way I never had. No plans, no worries, just enjoy the journey. I thought she was so brave, so independent. I assumed too much, or maybe I didn’t care, maybe I just wanted to have an affair.” Sergio said sadly.

“So how WAS she?” I asked with wide eyes and a snigger hoping to change the melancholic mood of the session.

“She was fantastic…uninhibited, unashamed…completely natural.(Lol) Very…energetic!”

A smile returned to his face.

“Just like the way she led the rest of her life, she just let herself go and loved so freely.”

“Ok man, I may be dumb but … WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!!” in a fit of drama I threw my arms up and slowly shook my head.

“I guess I wanted to fall in love or at least feel like I was in love, but I didn’t want a woman to fall in love with me. Hey, who wants the hassle? I mean that’s why I thought she would be so great because she was so free.”

We did 2 sets of bicep-curls; clearly he wasn’t concentrating this session. Then proceeded to work lightly on the triceps, just to balance the work done on the opposing muscles.

“What made you think she was falling for you? Did she ask you to divorce your wife?” I was curious.

“No, that’s not her style. Actually the sex was getting a bit too “lovey-dovey”. You know there’s a difference between sex and making love. The raunchy slap-my-butt, let’s try blindfolds and candle wax, suddenly turned into nuzzling and hair-stroking. Then instead of just collapsing into an exhausted heap, she would stay awake and look into my eyes while I napped, and when I awoke she would still be there doing that! Anyway after about 3 months, I must admit my interest was waning, besides I was treading on dangerous ground, I’m happily married, remember, I didn’t want to get caught!”

“So today was the day you told her?”

“Yeah, you know, I thought it would be somewhat like giving notice, we would just slack off seeing each other for a bit and just slowly phase it out. I broke the news in the office pantry. Oh, we work together you know. But boy, was I shocked at her reaction. Her face just dropped, she looked down, and just when she was about to cry; walked out of the office, got into her car and drove away”

“Ok Serg, look, she knew the situation from the start, you’re her boss, she knows you’re married, she knew this was a fling…be nice to her tomorrow, but your conscience should be clear.”

Somehow he wasn’t quite convinced, but he’d get over it by the next session. You know what, putting myself in his shoes, I kinda realise that you can never totally relive your youth. You’ve got to grasp the moment when you’re supposed to and not delay pleasure just so you can achieve life’s goals faster. Pursuing that babe with great legs or splurging your entire savings on an av system is great when you’re single, but irresponsible when you’re married with mouths to feed. On that philosophical note …
JUST GO OUT THERE AND ENJOY!

2006-08-31T00:50:00.000+08:00

A Day in the Life of…

Thought you guys may be interested to catch a glimpse of what happens in a typical day of a personal trainer. After all, that’s why blogs are so popular and often anonymous. I guess readers want to “experience” what it’s like being in someone else’s skin and there’s no way of truly letting you in on that unless one is guarded behind a veil of secrecy.

I usually start the day at around 7am. Early-morning sessions are popular among professionals. Today I’ve got a lawyer whose office is nearby, he warms up for about 15 minutes and starts his session at 7.30am.

After him, it’s usually a housewife who has just dropped her kids off at school. How one refers to this sector of society is usually a little sensitive. Lady of leisure, domestic economist, full-time mum…I really don’t know which term to use without insulting someone, so I usually refrain from calling this sector anything at all. In the swanky neighborhood where my gym is located, this sector invariably includes mistresses and second wives. Generally speaking all are kept-women, in the literal sense of the word.

I’ll usually have 2 ladies back-to-back at 9.30am and 10.30am. Finishing off at 11.30am I’ll check if I have any mail at the front desk and then do some paperwork at the back room office. Paperwork for a personal trainer is recording and planning weight-lifting programs, updating client files, submitting work schedules and doing a bit of research on the net with my lap top. The office has wi-fi but we have to bring in our own lap-tops for personal work.

Today, a hand-written envelope awaited me. When I opened it “Oh my God!” it was a cheque for RM1,500 from “guess who?”. I really don’t know how I’m going to broach this subject during Sherry’s next session. I’m sure there’s going to be some back-and-forthing on this money. I really don’t want to discuss this further with her. I suppose that the easiest thing to do is just not to bank it in. Subject closed!

Anyway back to my day...

Close to lunch time is when gym-action takes a lull, so personal trainers will usually do their own workouts at this time. Being in this trade, forces you to maintain a good physique. It’s your personal advertisement and also a chance to put all the advice you give others into practice. My pal, Ian and I will usually spot each other. We lift about the same weights, so there’s convenience and a little competition along the way. Just enough to push ourselves to the next level.

Then it’s a quick shower and gathering a couple of workmates we’re off to lunch. The cafeteria in the corporate building we work in is usually where we have a simple meal. Most PT’s eat more than the average guy. Two of us will eat enough for three. Supporting a muscled frame through normal daily activity requires more energy and don’t forget we’re on our feet most of the time. Some days I have as many as 10 clients. All that counting of reps also makes us super thirsty.

With the cafeteria a-buzz with corporate attired executives, a bunch of us in sports gear will usually attract a few second glances. Women love to give us the once over, they know we’re from the gym downstairs. I was once told by a young feisty female copywriter that the idea of a man who works with his body is a huge turn-on. However unlike construction workers, armed forces personnel or mechanics with whom there was very little in common, personal trainers are great conversationalists and even greater listeners.

I guess that’s probably true, if you look at the range of people I come into contact with daily, you will see CEOs, stockbrokers, housewives, 18 year old students, gay hairdressers and your sweet old grandmother. With each person we spend a concentrated hour talking about anything under the sun.

And because it’s easier to listen than to talk, women sometimes perceive this as taking a keen interest in getting to know them. This is not unlike what happens in the beginning of a romantic relationship when a guy is interested in everything a woman has to say. So it’s to no surprise that I’ve witnessed many cases of misunderstood intentions.

Mid-afternoon is when we get the self-employed entrepreneurs. Today at 3 pm I’ve got a proprietor of a seafood restaurant and Ian has Oscar, owner of a hairdressing salon. Ian is constantly harassed by the sexual innuendos thrown his way but takes them all in stride. After all, this is our professional hazard. At 4pm another entrepreneur, Di-Di a boutique owner who brings in fake designer evening gowns from Korea and makes a killing out of selling them to the “tai-tais” (wealthy women of leisure).

Slightly after 5pm, remiciers come in soon after the securities market is closed for the day. I must say that this is the sector with the most diligent body builders. Their highly stressed but regular work hours brings them into the gym five days a week to pound away at the treadmills and proceed to a very challenging weight lifting workout. Typically, they are very technical in their fitness knowledge and can put many a novice PT to shame. I have a trading account with Yong, he updates me during his twice weekly sessions. I’ve made a little under his tutelage, he looks fantastic under mine!

At around 6pm, secretaries and other female office workers come in for classes. The remiciers will watch the parade of women going upstairs. There will be a handful of absolute stunners and my pointing them out to any male will be a “sure-fire” favourite topic of conversation. It never fails, even if my client is gay, in which case detailed criticisms will abound.

My day ends with one or two more professionals who come in straight from the office. Today a private banker who services the local high net-worth individuals in the area, he has referred at least 3 clients to me in the past month. Very much appreciated, thanks Larry!

Well dudes, that’s my typical day! Any questions? Raise your hands…

2006-08-26T15:11:00.000+08:00

Breakfast and Gigolos (continued)

I arrived at her apartment after clearing security and being escorted to her doorstep. So… this is how the rich live. There could be no more than 10 units in this simulated forest enclave, obscured from public view by thick hedges at the end of a cul-de-sac.

Sherry: Hey, so glad you could come.

HotBod: Well, I’m never one to pass on a free meal, especially a home-cooked one.

She led me to her deck overlooking a lush forest reserve. We had wine and water- crackers served with an avocado dip. She smelt fresh and looked so…sexy and feminine. I guess I was used to seeing her in gym gear, so this was familiar yet different.

Sherry: So how was soccer today? Who did you play with?

HotBod: I’ve been playing with the same guys for the last 10 years. We used to play in the state junior team when we were in our teens and somehow through the years we’ve been playing every Sunday since.

Sherry: That’s wonderful!

We had linguini and more wine, she opened a red and a white. After awhile we loosened up as she cajoled me to tell her about my other clients. I swore I wouldn’t reveal any names but she would insist on guessing who they were.

Sherry: C’mon its that good looking guy with the goatie beard isn’t it ? And he’s got the hots for you, I can tell.

HotBod: No he does not. And he’s not the one I’m talking about either.

Sherry: Awh... don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! Everytime you lead him to the next machine he’s looking you up and down from behind.

To cut a long story short we ended up in bed. This woman was good. Ok, I know what I said about not being into casual sex etc. but this was different. I know her body so well, I’ve felt her arms, pressed on her thighs and supported her shoulders so many times that it felt right to be screwing her.

Ok, so I was also bloody horny. Three months is a long time to go without. She knew what she liked and was very good with leading the way. Actually it takes off a lot of pressure, when a woman tells you exactly what she wants. She gave me a blow-job; the combination of her tongue on my cock and her fingers juggling my balls was fantastic. She finally led me to penetrate her from behind. Providing and fitting on the condom swiftly and seamlessly. No awkward questions asked, it was decided and done. She urged me to pump hard for 2 to 3 minutes and then to stop mid-way while she kneaded me with her pelvic muscles so we could catch our breaths. All the while insisting that I cup and play with her breasts. I can only say our chest exercises have paid off, they were firm and high… smooth and flushed hot like the rest of her body by this time. We alternated pumping and kneading until I came in a volcanic gush of pure exstacy. I collapsed on her feather-down pillows and smooth sheets, utterly exhausted.

She mossied around the room, freshening up, turning off some lights and finally covering me with a quilt and joining me in bed. I had never slept so well in a long time. The next thing I knew, I was up and it was 7am, she was still fast asleep beside me.

Somehow things seemed quite different in the morning. I lay there awhile, staring at the ceiling trying to recollect what happened the night before. Then I left her to slumber while I went to the kitchen to look for something to eat. She had oatmeal afterall! I whipped up some in a small pan over the stove. Found some yogurt and raisins too.

I had to get to the gym by 8.00am, my first session with a lawyer. I took my bowl of oatmeal to the dinning table, on the way there I spotted a photo of Sherry and an attractive young man in his early twenties, her arm was around his shoulders. I ate from my bowl held close to my mouth looking at this picture, there was something very wholesome and happy about it.

I could hear Sherry’s footsteps coming toward me.

Sherry: That’s Shaun…the love of my life!

A former lover? I thought to myself. No somehow it didn’t seem look like it. A younger brother, perhaps?

Sherry: He lives in New York now, trying to establish his career as a photographer. He’s my son.

At this point I nearly choked on my oatmeal. I tried to hide my utter surprise and calmly asked,

“ How old is he? I didn’t know you had children.”

Sherry: Yeah he’s 22, my one and only. When Matt and I divorced, we thought it would be better for Shaun to have a constant father figure, being a boy and all. So he followed Matt to New York and I visit him twice a year.

HotBod: Hey Sherry thanks for a wonderful night. I really have to go, but I made you some oatmeal in the kitchen. Eat breakfast ok?

And with that, I left for work. Feeling a little strange. Shaun would be about just 7 years younger than me.

2006-08-25T18:42:00.000+08:00

Breakfast and Gigolos

It hit me like a tonne of bricks! I struggled to keep my facial muscles relaxed to hide the shock and embarrassment I felt inside.

There we were on a lazy Sunday morning, 10 am session, she was my only client that day. I came in for my own workout before my usual Sunday soccer game with my mates at 12 noon. She couldn't make her usual weekday slot, so this was her replacement session. As she pumped away on the stepper I was trying to convince this habitual breakfast-skipper on the virtues of the early morning meal.

Sherry: But you know its not as if I'm trying to cut down on calories, I really don’t feel like eating in the morning. I don't feel weak or anything so what's the big deal?

HotBod: Hey you're trying to loose those last 2 kilos right? By giving your body something to digest at the beginning of the day, you're actually kick-starting your metabolism to use energy efficiently throughout, you know...

Sherry: Yeah, but its still adding calories that I can easily skip. This whole thing is like a tipsy weighing scale, add more here to loose more there!

HotBod: I know it sounds a bit like a pro and con argument but really its not. When your body is in starvation mode, even when you don't feel hungry, your body will self-preserve which means that it'll shut down on metabolising those foie gras calories from the night before so that you'll be able to survive your “famine” till lunch time.

Sherry: Wow, really? So what should I eat for breakfast?

Ok now I thought I was getting somewhere…

HotBod: Well since you don't feel like eating anyway, how about something warm and soothing like oatmeal with bits of dried fruit chopped small and dropped into it. And if you like things a bit creamy, a dollop of strawberry yogurt on the top, garnished with a sprig of mint. Now that will make it look delicious!

Then she turns to look at me with a twinkle in her eye and I think to myself,
"Awesome! I've won her over!"

Sherry: You know what HB, you sure know how to whet my appetite. Why don’t we have an extended session at my place tonight, so that I can nibble on you for supper and you can teach me how to make this scrumptious breakfast in the morning? Let's say from 10 at night till 10 in the morning, that's 12 hours. At rate of $85 per hour...nah...I'm really bad at math, lets just make it $1,500 for the whole, ahem, session. What do you say?

At this point, my heart was pounding in my throat...I didn't know what to say! I didn't know whether to feel excited, flattered, insulted or sorry. She certainly was not a sorry sight, having just stepped off the stepper and heading off toward the water cooler.

She was as confident as a lioness with the walk of a lithe cheetah, her firm ass rolling ever so smoothly as she walked away. I knew she was just giving me room to breathe.

I watched her as she lowered her mouth to the fountain, ever so gracefully. If there was an older woman I could find sexy, this one would top the charts. At 45, she is 16 years older than me. Divorced 5 years ago, she dates casually 3 or 4 men at once, all in their 40's all fine-dining business-suited candidates. Some married, some not. All drive luxury cars. She herself drives a silver BMW Z4 at a speed that draws stares of amazement.

She walks back toward me. Oh my God, what should I say? She swallows that last gulp of water and breaks out into a half smile. Squeezes me on the shoulder like I'm her pal, and sensing my discomfort says...

"Think about it, sms me later, you know where I live."

We complete the session. She chats merrily as though nothing unusual had happened, while I concentrate on counting reps. When we finish with abs, she turns over to lie on her front propping herself up on her elbows. I hand her my palm top to verify the session as usual.

I mutter something about my soccer game and tell her I'll call her later. "Cool!" she says ever so calmly like nothing unusual happened, meanwhile my mind is racing like there was no tomorrow.

I played a damn lousy game of soccer that day. Just couldn't get over that $1,500 proposal. My soccer mates chided me for my dismal performance.

"Hello HB what happened? Eating pussy last night, now feeling sick ah?"

If only…I haven't had the pleasure of being near one of those for the last 3 months. I must be one of a handful of men on this earth who believes sex is a way of connecting with another human being and not just a physical release.

Somehow I’ve always had to be emotionally involved. Whether that emotion was infatuation or love, I have to be honest, I’ve found quite hard to differentiate. But you know I’ve never had a one night stand nor what some call a “fuck-buddy”. Call me old fashioned but casual sex has never been on my agenda.

At around 4pm my cell-phone rings. It’s Sherry! Fuck…what should I say…

HotBod: Hello

Sherry: Hi there, what’cha doing? Just finished soccer? Hey forget the proposition, ok? (Giggle) I was just joking; I wanted to see the expression on your face.

HotBod: Oh really? I’m sooo disappointed!

(Actually, I was bloody relieved)

Sherry: Hmm…How can I make it up to you? Ok, come over for dinner at 8, I’ll make you my linguini in pesto sauce, with extra virgin olive oil, pine nuts, smoked salmon etc. All the non-fattening food that you’re always trying to convince me to eat? When it goes through my hands, it’ll be “to die for”! How’s that? Just come over and chill, ok?

HotBod: Ok Sherry if you put it that way, how can I refuse?

(To be continued)

2006-08-20T16:34:00.001+08:00

Yakuza

There he stood...5ft 11in... 80kgs of prime Kobe beefsteak. This lean Japanese machine waits for me at 8am on the dot, 3 times a week (after his D-I-Y 45 minute cardio workout) for his intensive 1 hour weight-training.

Hiroshita Sakai, Hiro for short is a body-guard to a Japanese hot shot who does not trust local equivalents to protect him. I dont blame the hot shot, Hiro is a true professional, I've never met anyone like him. Dont ask Hiro about his personal life (as far as I know, he has none), dont ask him about his work... that is strictly confidential.

Hiro is extremely good looking, a sort of serious Brandon Lee, but any gym chic who tries to incite his interest will be firmly but very politely turned away. The other personal trainers have begun to speculate if he's otherwise inclined, but no, I truly believe he lives by some other code. A code that breathes of ninja or yakuza. Part honour, part underworld.

He treats me with the formality and respect of an enlightened teacher. In truth I feel challenged and slightly intimidated by all the technical questions he politely throws my way and also the heavy weights I have built him up to lift. You may gawk...

Bench Press - 110 kg
Arm curls - 120 kg
Squats - 160 kg

I tell you at my peak while training for competitions I was lifting 5% lighter and while I was doing it for aesthetics Hiro's main purpose for all this training is to strengthen his karate. That's what he does on the other 4 days that he doesn't come into the gym and that by the way is the extent of what I know of his "personal" life.

About 6 months ago and for the first time in 3 years he came into the gym five minutes late, slightly frazelled and "shock horror" didn't do his usual cardio. I saw some scratch marks on his heavily tattoed fore-arm and just as I was about to pull a wise crack on the fuckin' wild sex he must have had the night before, I swallowed my words. He wasn't wearing his usual grey loose tank top today, instead he was wearing a sleeved black t-shirt hiding what seemed like a bandaged rib cage and was walking with a slight limp. I knew better than to ask further. He kept an uncomfortable silence and we lifted 20% lighter weights that day with reduced reps. I asked no questions, he told no lies...

Three weeks later I read the newspapers about 2 bodies found in the Klang river. The chinese tabloids were more explicit... they were Japanese nationals, well-built men one was 29 and the other 32 years of age, both were brothers with the family name....Sakai........

2006-08-12T22:25:00.000+08:00

1st Blog – Reason for Being

Sitting here by the service counter pretending to do something important at the gym's sleek pc, I can’t help but lament on why she left me. It's been 2 weeks since the one I thought was "the one" said she was sorry while looking straight in my eyes in that soft but piercing way. Then she turned around and walked out...her pony tail bopping, her firm high ass peeping from under those micro shorts teasing me in my numbness. There she left me by the drinks bar at the very same gym where I work.

I need a distraction big time!!! I can’t come in here everyday remembering how we made out in the darkness of the rpm room, our bodies entwined against the cool wall by the locked door. There I felt her breasts for the first time; her perky nipples invited the caress of my tongue. I soon sucked them in eagerness while she creamed me through my uniformed shorts, then unzipped my pants much to my relief. I was throbbing hard, she was dripping wet, in an instant I stripped her totally bare except for her pale blue Asics shoes, carried her onto my hip and pumped her until she cried out in ecstasy. Thank god the room was sound proofed!

I'm a personal trainer here at this very same gym where we met. On some days I'm here for about 10 hours, its been tough pretending to be cheerful, motivating my clients, entertaining them, lending a sympathetic ear, cracking jokes while trying to forget the woman who could stir my loins and my heart, in ways I could never imagine.

May this blog be my distraction during the time between clients, I shall never mention her again nor describe any lovemaking with her on these premises or otherwise. Let this blog be a manifestation of shared research and experience on fitness, health, body building and beauty. May I never again wonder why she left after 18 months of excitement, passion and happiness. Behold! I shall endeavor to tackle issues most asked about by fitness enthusiasts in the most factual, easy to understand, substantiated way which will strike a chord in you and propel you toward your fitness goals.

Meanwhile as I research these pertinent issues (research takes time, you know!) I shall keep you amused by the action I witness in this place. Believe me there's a lot going on here.

Chiao!
For the first time,

HotBod