2015 — Manchester, England
Christie sat upon the wooden Bench of the locker room starting down in the ground with a towel draped over her mind. She saw that the drops of her perspiration trickle from her chin and fall down on the tiles that were moist to her toes. She cursed herself for falling for this beginner trick back into the ring, closing her eyes as she attempted to run over back it in her mind.
With this, she had been interrupted By the familiar voice of her sparring partner”Oi Christie, that has been a nicely’naff functionality back in there. Starting to think you’re fuckin’ on goal’luv.” He explained with a tone that was somewhat boastful. Christie sighed, pulling the towel from her head with some kind of retort prepared to fire until her eyes were widened by a sight.
Dangling only inches from her face, the long and Prick of her sparring partner that is tall and well built. He glared down at her arms folded with the light catching his abs and his hips pushing forwards. His tackle started to swell and expand upon seeing her face.
