The fitness coach is good at kung fu

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

He's a trainer at a well-known gym, and the best-built male I've ever seen. Actually, that's a bit of an exaggeration, since all the other trainers at the gym are muscular too. But seeing him completely naked, that image always makes my cheeks flush and my groin twitch whenever it flashes through my mind!

Let me start from the beginning.

I started going to that gym because my friend F joined, and apparently, you could recommend friends for a free trial for a few days.

I was recommended, but on my very first visit, a salesperson used their persuasive skills to convince me to buy. I couldn't resist, so I bought a year's worth without really understanding what was going on.

That salesperson (I remember his name was Eric, is that his real name? Humph! :p) also convinced me to buy "one-on-one" coaching sessions as a half-price deal. I inexplicably bought several sessions as well.

"Do you want a male or female trainer? You can choose," Eric asked with a smile.

"A male trainer is fine." For no particular reason, since I was getting coaching, choosing a male seemed more appropriate.

So, on my first session, this trainer named Tom came.

My first impression of him was that he was a lump of flesh.

He was about 175 cm tall, with dyed brown hair, and his tight vest revealed defined muscles; the lines of his arm muscles were incredibly attractive, making him look strong and powerful.

"Good morning, miss, what should I call you?" he greeted me politely. His refined manner

combined with his muscular build instantly boosted my impression.

"Call me Sandrea!" I replied. "

Hmm, Miss Sandrea, I really need to go buy some lottery tickets. To be able to train such a

super beauty like you..." His words were sweet but not lewd. "Then let's begin our first lesson." "Okay!" ********** ... (Perhaps intentionally) "Sandrea, again! Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, good, again!" "Ah, ah, um"—these kinds of words have different meanings in other contexts, but at that moment my muscles were so sore all over, and Tom would half-coax, half-force me to keep going.

I always wear a sports bra and workout pants to the gym, but at this point, I don't think anyone would have any sexual desire! (Or maybe others would? I don't know!) Anyway, my story with Tom didn't happen during class.

That day, after I finished exercising and showering, I was feeling refreshed and ready to go home. I saw Tom. He greeted me warmly, and I smiled back. He followed me out of the store: "Sandrea, going home?" "Yes." I smiled.

"I'll take you home, I have a car."

"Don't you have to go to work?" I asked, surprised.

"It's okay, just sneaking out for a bit, it's fine," he laughed heartily. "I can find someone to cover for me for an hour, no problem." I smiled and raised my hand. "Thanks for your kindness, but I have a bike, and I'm married." This is my method for filtering out first-line pick-up artists. As long as I sense his intentions.

Tom spread his hands, grinning: "I didn't say I was going to rape you, miss, I just wanted to give you a ride home.

If you don't want it, fine, I don't mind!"

"Okay, bye-bye then." I said goodbye to him.

He went into the store, then suddenly turned back and shouted: "So, I'll see you the day after tomorrow?" "Yeah, see you the day after tomorrow." I waved again.

After returning home, I found that his image kept flashing through my mind:

Tom taking off his shirt, Tom taking off his shorts, Tom taking off his underwear

. "Relax, Sandrea." Tom said gently to me, his strong arms lifting me up, "I'll be very gentle." Damn it! Why am I thinking about these things?!

I slapped my head, got up to pour myself a glass of cold water, and faced with a table full of reports to be organized, I just couldn't muster the energy. That night, I argued with my husband again, who came home late, and we continued our days of sleeping in the same bed but dreaming different dreams. Two days later, I went to class again. As usual, after class, Tom followed me out.

"Sandrea, I'll take you home."

"Sir, do you have amnesia?" I smiled.

"No, but I've decided, you ride your bike, and I'll ride yours to take you home." This sounded stupid.

I couldn't help but ask, "Then how are you going to get back?"

"Walking, getting some exercise while I'm at it," he laughed, "Haha, okay, I might as well take a taxi." Faced with someone who persists even after being rejected, my conclusion is either an idiot or a master. And these two are often separated by a fine line; the idiot is just a master who keeps striking at the wrong time.

My heart softened; there was no reason not to accept.

"Okay, you're doing this voluntarily."

He happily went to borrow a helmet and gave me a ride home. I watched him walk back from my doorstep.

************ Once is never enough.

After I agreed to his request once, he would ride my bike to take me home after class every time, then walk home himself. After a few times, even if he wasn't teaching my class, if he saw me exercising and happened to be free, he would still give me a ride home.

One day, just as I was about to get on his bike, he gestured for me to wait.

"Let's do something different today," he said with a smile.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"I'll give you a ride, but you'll sit backwards, with your back against mine." I had never heard of such a ride before, but it sounded interesting.

Letting him take me home like this was thrilling, but not too dangerous; watching the road move in different directions was really fun. The sudden acceleration and deceleration also made my heart race. (Highly

recommended , everyone should try it :

p ) ********** ... With each breath, I pressed forward, and I could feel his firm abs and below—something very hard—pressing against my buttocks! >< My house isn't far from the gym, so I didn't ride for very long that stretch; otherwise, that weird posture would definitely have gotten me pulled over by the police. But honestly, that physical contact really made me blush and my heart race. He went home as if nothing had happened. ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊After that, almost every time I came out of class, he would wait for me at the door and suggest giving me a ride in that strange posture.

Didn't a scientist propose that dogs have a restraining response to bells?!

I've discovered I'm starting to restrain myself too! Every time before going to the gym, I look forward to a brief physical encounter after class!

We've maintained this routine, neither of us taking it any further. Until one day, as usual, we were riding our bikes in this strange position, blushing and rubbing our ears together, and we both got off at my house.

"I need to use the restroom," he said.

It sounded perfectly normal.

I took him upstairs, and he went into our bathroom. I went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. He came out of the bathroom. I felt his eyes seemed a little strange. I got him the water, and as we got closer, I noticed his breathing was a little rapid, and his eyes seemed a little darting. And, damn it, I accidentally caught a glimpse of a prominent bulge under his sweatpants.

I only remember my face instantly turning bright red. He noticed too, and took a step forward, his face only ten centimeters away from mine, practically breathing directly into my face when he spoke.

"Sandrea, thank you for getting me some water."

He said something so simple, yet my face flushed and my heart pounded; I couldn't answer. More importantly, I felt something hard pressing against my waist. I dared not even think about what it was! (Okay, I admit I did think about what it was.) Seeing my strange expression, he moved closer, one hand on my arm, and whispered, "When is your husband coming back?" Okay, this scene, this conversation, everything had already exceeded my remaining rationality!

I quickly turned around, but could only weakly say, "Why are you asking that?" As I said before, a master is someone who makes the right move at the right time; every move he made was precise!

Then he put his other hand on my shoulder, my chest pressing against his strong pectoral muscles with our rapid breathing.

He leaned close to my ear and whispered, "I want you!" I was completely flustered, especially surrounded by his solid muscles. I could only breathe rapidly, barely managing to say, "He won't be back for an hour or two." That was obviously the green light! What followed was predictable.

He slowly took off his vest, revealing his amazing pectoral muscles.

I couldn't resist touching it: "So big!"

He smiled, gently taking my hand and guiding it down to his crotch; he used my hand to pull off his sweatpants, and my hand directly touched his large penis! His size was enormous; the moment I touched it, I felt a surge of desire, and my lower body began to feel wet. His hands weren't idle; he skillfully removed my sports bra and shorts; he gazed intently at my body. "Beautiful!" he said.

I, meanwhile, was staring at his penis and pectoral muscles, already completely aroused.

His movements were slow and precise, almost like a performance. He laid me flat on the sofa and began to fondle my breasts.

I moaned softly, "Ah."

He caressed me for a long time, completely igniting my desire!

He grabbed my waist, lifted my legs, and prepared to enter

me. I half-murmured, grabbing his hand, "Condom," I said.

He nodded, took a condom from his pants on the floor, put it on, smiled, and grabbed my waist again: "Sandrea, I'm going in." His glans rubbed slightly against the entrance of my vagina before slowly inserting.

"Ahhh!"

His size was truly enormous; the feeling of being penetrated was on the edge of pleasure and pain. He thrust all the way in, and I felt my cervix being pushed in. My whole body felt like it was on the verge of fainting from pain or losing consciousness, yet also like it was completely overwhelmed by pleasure!

He slowly thrust in and out a few times, then suddenly, without warning, began to thrust his hips forcefully, each thrust reaching deep inside! Before I could react, I cried out, "Ah! Ah, you're so deep! Ah, ah!" Ignoring my moans, he gripped my waist and thrust in relentlessly. The sensation of being penetrated to the very bottom and then rapidly entering and exiting was utterly overwhelming, drawing me into a state of unconscious pleasure! In my hazy state, I only remembered him grabbing my breasts and thrusting forcefully! I couldn't think straight; I was simply experiencing the impact!

After a burst of fast and powerful thrusts, he would suddenly slow down; I would regain some clarity, my panting would subside, and my hands would reach out to touch his firm chest muscles; but after a few seconds, he would suddenly accelerate again, and I would scream wildly,

"Ah, I'm going to die! It's so big!"

After a series of alternating fast and slow movements, he would begin thrusting rapidly again. This time, however, he didn't slow down; he maintained a constant rapid insertion and withdrawal.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, slow down!"

He ignored my pleas and instead increased his speed. A few seconds later, I climaxed! His entire vagina convulsed violently, his body twisting and moaning as he convulsed faster. Suddenly, a low groan escaped his lips—he had ejaculated! Inside me, our lower bodies convulsed intertwined!

We gasped for breath for a long time before finally stopping.

************ He picked me up, kissing my entire body, and I clung to him wantonly, touching every muscle in his body. Suddenly, he lifted me up, like carrying a bride into the bridal chamber. I gasped softly as he carried me into the bathroom. "I'll help you shower," he said. It felt a little strange, being in my own home. But a shower was necessary.

I turned on the showerhead, the water jets spraying over us both. I stared at the lines of his muscles, and damn it, I had those lewd thoughts again! >< "Have you ever tried a Thai bath?" I asked him with a seductive smile.

He looked on with a puzzled expression.

I grabbed some shower gel and lathered it on my breasts, creating lots of foam. Then, I had him sit while I knelt, using my breasts to lather his back.

"Does it feel good?" I asked with a sly smile.

He looked incredulous. "So good," I said.

I moved my breasts up and down, left and right, my sagging breasts rubbing against his back muscles, my hands caressing his chest muscles. After a while, he suddenly sat up and pulled me to his front. "I'll lather you up from the front too!" he lewdly grinned.

I held his shoulders, my breasts tracing his chest, abs, and even his face; he greedily tried to bury his face in my breasts; I continued lathering, and he held my waist, a satisfied, wicked smile on his face. My breasts touched every perfect muscle of his, and I felt a surge of pleasure.

After a while, he finally couldn't take it anymore, sat up, and tried to penetrate me again. I pushed him away.

"You always forget the condom," I said with a seductive smile.

I took a condom from the bathroom drawer and put it on him. He was now facing me, half-lying in the bathtub. I sat on top of him, he adjusted the angle, and then penetrated me again. Even in a semi-reclining position, he maintained his usual technique, starting with slow thrusts, then followed by a rapid, irresistible series of thrusts, which brought me to another orgasm in the bathroom! Finally, he ejaculated again!

We rinsed off in the bathtub, and I laughed, saying, "If you ever go to a Thai bath again, you'll never go back!" He smiled too.

After that, of course, we went our separate ways. I even kindly called him a taxi.

[The End]

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