Kick Start

Dear Butch,

You have no idea what you have done.  Shaken everything up in one swift and suave move.

I was at the gym and found that they had recently replaced the recumbent bikes.  Lost on how to adjust the seat and frustrated by how late I was getting to my workout after a tough day at work, I was frazzled.  There wasn’t an ounce of sexual thought in my head, which is rare.  I went to find one of the trainers and came face to face with your delectably dreamy butch self.  You are the softer side of the specturm, hair down to your ears and women’s running shoes on.  I found myself lost for words, until I clumsily stuttered “Can I have some help with the bike seat?”  You looked up and smiled.  That is all it took, that smile.  You not only helped me with the bike, but we ended up chatting for thirty minutes.  A tornado of toddlers could have run through the gym and I don’t think we would have noticed.  You checked me out from every angle, brushed a strand of hair away from my face, and made me feel your quads.  You asked me all the right questions and laughed at my cheesy jokes.

I have been in a pretty low sexual slump this winter.  Major life changes, planned and unexpected, have dominated my core.  I have been struggling to meet the needs of my partner, wanting to cry out in sorrow verses shout out in pleasure.  But your flirtation kicked my mojo back from its death bed.  Thanks to you, I haven’t been able to keep my hands (and other parts) off of T-Rex.  In fact he tapped out today before I could, yes, I outlasted the man on testosterone shots.

See you tomorrow night for our first training session, I am ready to get my ass back in shape.  In and out of the bedroom.

Love,

Femme

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