Brian's dick tasted like it was still in my mouth, andmy ass was still singing from the fucking Bert had given me. With mytits in my hands I came aga...n and again, all over my expensiveunderwear.***I woke the next morning naked, but still wearing my new C cups. Iquickly realized that it was later than it should have been, but a textfrom Brian clarified things. I was to wait for a woman named Theresato come up to my room. Brian had called her from the hotel spa to'sort me out'. Whatever that. She always supported me and encouraged me – and, as always, I was overwhelmed with appreciation for the offer, even as I declined it.Listening to that song before the race serves as a mental prompt to remember her in these moments, to invite her spirit to stand on the sidelines, screaming as loud as she can in her native Brooklyn accent, cheering me on and urging me toward the finish.The third song of the morning was where I began to mentally shift gears, to pump my mind up, to push the. More

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