16th December 2009 - Life - Leave a Comment

Getting Nostalgic.

We’re back to Getting Physical today which is kinda cool as Getting Intimate is released on Monday and both are parts of the Getting Together trilogy.

Here’s the blurb forGetting Physical:

sdfavTerri is a BBW who really does not enjoy going to the gym to exercise, but she really loves the view of John’s hard, pumping thighs.

John is always at the gym, working on his definition. He thinks he’s lanky and scrawny and is convinced the sexy, curvy new girl will never look twice at him.

A twist of fate brings them together, but will they be able to get over their own insecurities and take advantage of the season of love? It is Valentine’s day after all.

And now an excerpt from one of my favourite ever female Characters, Terri.

After the treadmill, I wanted to do something that involved sitting, so I found a rower that was free and sat my fat ass down on it. I didn’t feel as massive and blobby as I thought I might. There were a few “real” people in there that evening, but there were also some very intimidating thin and sweaty individuals.

One particular fit fellow caught my eye. He was peddling away on a bike as I rowed, and my eyes were repeatedly drawn to his pumping thighs. His legs were long and lean beneath his black shorts. The arms that showed below his sleeveless T-shirt looked strong and manly. I reckoned they could give a very good hug; also I was pretty sure they’d not let a man down whilst fucking missionary style.

I took a deep breath and turned my concentration to rowing. Such a lean, thin and gorgeous man would never look twice at this boring, brunette blob anyway. Well, I suppose I have some pretty impressive breasts—natural and still quite perky—and my bottom may be big, but it is wonderfully squeezable, or so I’ve been told. But the kind of guy who hones his body to such an extent was not going to want a gym-shy girlfriend like me. If he’s around in the future when I popped in to work out, at least I’d have something nice to look at.

He was still peddling away like Billy-o as I gingerly got up from the rowing seat. My knees ached, and my back protested loudly. I thought I should use just one more instrument of torture for the day, then I could legitimately call it quits. The exercise bike was not too torturous and could be used to effectively wind down; the problem was the only bike left was next to the health god I’d just been drooling over.

I almost chickened out then and there, but Mark must have seen my move towards the bike and misinterpreted my hesitation.

“Can you remember how to use the bike?” his deep, powerful voice boomed from the reception desk behind me.

“Yes. Yes, thanks.” I turned my head and smiled at Mark. Next thing I knew I was peddling sedately along next to the guy with the nutcracker thighs whilst trying my hardest to keep my gaze straight ahead. In spite of myself, I kept glancing to the side to admire the mellow brown of his skin and the deep, dark black of his hair. It was short at the back and sides and peaked into multiple spikes upon his head. Very cool, very fashionable, and another visual pointer to the impossibility of him ever being attracted to me.

Hell, I’m not fashionable. I’m definitely not cool. I never have been. In school and college, I had crushes on all kinds of guys, but they always saw me as just a mate. I don’t think any man ever saw me as sexy, and the horrid school uniform I had to wear never helped. My mother always said bigger girls had to cover up their extra bits of flesh, and I would never be seen in anything less than two sizes too big for me. I smothered my body and made it look bigger by doing so. Actually, whenever I wanted to feel comfy, I went by my mother’s rule, as the baggy T-shirt and shapeless jogging bottoms I wore that night illustrated.

So when I saw the sex god glancing back at me, I assumed he must have been wondering what a big girl like me was doing in a place like that. I suddenly became doubly aware of the sweat rolling down my fleshy body and the red flush to my face and my arms. I decided enough was enough and stopped peddling. I swung my leg over the seat and over balanced; barely catching myself on the handle bar of the bike next to me when I felt his hand clasp around my upper arm.

“Are you okay?” Even his voice was athletic, deep and emotive and very, very sexy.

“Yeah. Just a bit clumsy,” I giggled nervously. I felt his hand over mine, another at my elbow.

“Are you sure?” I sensed his body shifting. “You’ve not over done it have you?”

“No. I’m okay,” I insisted and pulled myself up straight, away from his hot touch. I smiled at him, my cheeks so full I felt they might burst. I felt silly and out of place.

“I’m John. This is your first time here right?”

Oh, fan-fucking-tastic. I looked fat, out-of-place, and moronic. Thanks. Rub it in a little harder why don’tcha?

“Yeah,” I giggled again, trying to cover my irritation. “And probably my last.” I hiss under my breath.

“Well,” he smiled, his own cheeks flushed, probably from his exertions on the bike, “Erm, what’s your name again?”

I hadn’t told him, but I thought I had nothing to lose in letting him know it. “Terri,” I grinned. Or was it a snarl?

“Terri,” he smiled. Or was he baring his teeth in challenge, too? “The first time is a bit daunting, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m here most evenings, so… so if you need any help give me a shout, okay?

I thought he was being sarcastic; he was trying to push me out by belittling me.

“Oh, cheers.” I gritted my teeth. “See you round.” I strode off, my head held high and my blood boiling. Well, if he thought he could intimidate this fat girl out of his gym, he was bloody well mistaken!

And On Monday the 21st December you will be able to buy Getting Intimate the next installment in the Terri and John story.

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