My swimming coach

When I was 22, I was just a factory worker in a rural area. Then I met the deputy factory manager, who was seven years older than me. After his passionate pursuit, I finally agreed to marry him. After marriage, I became a housewife. Although we've been married for five years, we still don't have children. My husband is very understanding and says there's no rush; he enjoys our loving married life.

But since my husband was transferred back to headquarters and moved to Taipei two years ago, our lives have changed. Besides often socializing until late at night, he's also frequently on business trips, leaving me alone in our large house. Although I feel a little lonely, I think of my beloved husband and how he sacrifices for our family, and I accept it.

Our good days didn't last long. My husband started having an affair with his secretary. Although he doesn't want to admit it, I've confirmed it with his colleagues. What's most infuriating is that his secretary is uglier than me, and her figure is worse than mine; the only thing she has over me is her fashion sense. This made me depressed for many days before I slowly returned to normal life.

Since my husband's affair, I've realized I've been too conservative. Besides dressing casually, I never bothered with my appearance. So I started dressing up and bought lots of pretty clothes, especially lingerie. Before, I wore plain, conservative full-coverage bras; now I mostly wear sexy sheer half-covers to show off my most prized asset—my full breasts—and small thongs.

I no longer hide my desires, and my clothing has become more revealing: short skirts, spaghetti-strap dresses, tight-fitting low-cut t-shirts—boldly displaying my figure. I no longer confine myself to the house doing housework; besides extracurricular classes, I've joined a fitness and leisure club.

This morning was my swimming lesson. I arrived at the club as scheduled, changed into my swimsuit, and went to the small indoor pool, looking around for my swimming instructor. I paid extra for a female instructor for one-on-one training.

After looking around for a while and not seeing the female coach, a muscular, dark-skinned male coach, around 30 years old, appeared. He was wearing red briefs, and his upper body formed an inverted triangle shape. He was the head coach of the club. He approached me with a polite, sunny smile and said,

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lin, Coach Zhang has taken a last-minute leave, so I'll be teaching you swimming today."

Although I wasn't used to one-on-one training with a male coach because there would always be some physical contact, I nodded shyly and whispered "Okay" because of his gentle manner and muscular physique.

At first, he led me in warm-up exercises facing each other. My gaze kept drifting to the slight bulge below his abdomen. I wasn't intentionally looking there; it was just a natural shift in direction.

The coach wasn't exactly innocent either, frequently staring at the cleavage below my V-neck. Because it was a private club, and it was a morning swimming lesson, there were practically no male students at that time. So I wore a pink, backless, V-neck one-piece swimsuit and removed the padding. When I bought the swimsuit, the sales assistant said my breasts were beautifully shaped and not sagging, so I didn't need padding. The slightly thin swimsuit tightly covered my full, firm breasts, highlighting their perfect shape, and the V-neck practically squeezed half of them out.

No wonder he kept stealing glances; even the most honest man would want to look more, especially at such close range.
After a 10-minute warm-up, we went into the pool. The instructor asked me to swim a bit to show him, so I swam vigorously. The sharp-eyed instructor immediately noticed my numerous mistakes.

He first held my hands and told me to relax, then slowly kicked and squeezed the water with his legs. After a few minutes, he led me to a deeper part of the pool. He was 180 cm tall, and when he stood on his feet in the deepest part of the pool, his head could still stay above water. I was less than 160 cm tall, and I tried to stand on tiptoe but couldn't touch the bottom. In my anxiety, I clung tightly to the coach, who also hugged me tightly. At this point, my full breasts were completely pressed against his firm chest. The coach patted my back and whispered in my ear, "[I'm sorry, I scared you!]" He slowly carried me to a shallower area before putting me down. "

[Ms. Lin, I'm sorry I scared you. Do you need to rest for a while?]" the coach said gently.

"[It's okay, I can continue practicing, but I'm still a little afraid of water.]" I replied

, "Then I'll be careful and take it slowly." The instructor then said

he would have me do the jellyfish float first, then straighten my arms and legs. He would stand beside me, extending his hands to lift me up from my upper abdomen. Following his instructions, I kicked my legs outwards, glide with my arms, lifted my head, and inhaled, following his commands. I did this kicking, gliding, and lifting step by step, going back and forth several times. The more I did it, the smoother it became, and my body moved further and further away from his arms, only touching him heavily when my body sank down.

Sometimes, I don't know if it was intentional or unintentional, but I would often bump into his chest and lower abdomen. A few times, he would bump into my chest heavily and then slide down to my stomach, a very strange feeling. When I looked down, I couldn't help but glance at the instructor, and the bulge below his abdomen, that male symbol, became more and more obvious.

Soon, my breathing and gliding rhythm was very smooth, and I was tired, so I went ashore and lay down on a deck chair to rest. At this time, the instructor kindly brought me a cup of herbal tea, explaining that he had specially invited me, no wonder he hadn't brought it the previous times.

He suggested I get a hot oil massage after swimming to relieve muscle fatigue and prevent soreness the next day. This course was newly designed and not yet officially implemented; he wanted me to be his experimental subject so he could write a course report.

I thought it was a good idea, otherwise I'd always be exhausted after swimming.

After that, I went to the changing room to quickly wash up and change into the disposable top and shorts provided by the club. However, the top was a bit small and couldn't cover my full breasts at all, leaving about a third exposed. Wearing a bathrobe afterwards prevented it from being too revealing.

When I got to the massage room, the instructor was already waiting for me. Since it was an experimental course, he would personally massage me. The massage room had about 10 massage beds, separated by short screens. The warm-toned sheer fabric, dim lighting, and soft music created a relaxing atmosphere.

I chose to lie down on the inner corner of the bed. He began by gently pressing from head to neck and shoulders for about 10 minutes. Then the instructor said we would start the hot oil massage. I only responded with a soft "Mmm." He helped me up and tried to remove my yukata. As he removed it, I felt ashamed, as if a lover were gently removing clothing before making love.

I hesitated for a moment, but then agreed; otherwise, how could I have the hot oil massage without removing the yukata?
When the yukata was taken away, I shyly covered my chest with my hands and lay back on the massage bed. Most of my breasts were exposed to a strange man, making my heart beat faster, my chest rising and falling with my rapid breathing.

Then the instructor asked me to turn over and lie face down, starting with my back. He applied essential oil to his hands and gently pressed and massaged my back. His nimble fingers worked quickly, and after a few minutes, my tension gradually subsided, and my muscles relaxed considerably. This was the first time I had received a male-assisted oil massage; it was different from same-sex massage, more like being caressed by a lover.

My lustful little hole began to throb, especially when his hands pressed near my armpits, his fingers lightly brushing against the sides of my breasts that had been squeezed out by my protruding breasts. The sensation was incredibly tingling, and I began to enjoy it. Warm currents flowed down my body, and his gentle praise of my figure and soft skin further stirred my lonely heart.

Soon his hands moved to my feet, pushing upwards from my ankles. After gently kneading my calves, his hands moved to my thighs. I had expected him to linger on my thighs, but he only lightly touched them. I was a little disappointed but didn't dare ask for anything.

Then he asked me to turn around. I turned, a little shy, crossing my arms and squeezing my legs together. He noticed my tension and softly told me to relax, gently pulling my hands down and pressing them against my shoulders.

As the coach pressed on my shoulders and arms, I secretly noticed that his gaze remained fixed on my chest. My already small breasts had shifted after the massage and acupressure, revealing two-thirds of my breasts and cleavage, with only my nipples showing.

As he gradually pressed down on my thighs, he continued chatting with me, but his eyes remained fixed on my breasts. His massage moved higher and higher, even slipping his hand inside my loose shorts, pulling it back just before it touched my panties. After repeating this several times, I felt incredibly comfortable, and my legs naturally parted slightly, allowing his hand to move more easily along the inside of my thighs. Several times his hand almost touched the bottom of my thighs, then he would lightly touch it and pull back. I couldn't tell if the instructor was doing it intentionally or unintentionally. My panties were soaked with my juices, but thankfully his hands were covered in massage oil; otherwise, he would have definitely noticed my arousal.

After the massage, I quickly showered in the bathroom and changed back into my dress. I chatted with the instructor for a while in the reception area before leaving the club and going straight home.

When I got home, I lay on the bed wanting to sleep. As I closed my eyes, the image of the coach's strong figure appeared in my mind, tenderly caressing every inch of my skin. At that moment, my lower body became wet again. My right hand unconsciously lifted the hem of my skirt and rubbed it up and down through my soaked panties, while my other hand reached into my collar and grabbed my full breasts. At this moment, I could only use my hands to soothe my lustful desires.

As I kneaded my breasts harder, my moans grew louder, changing from rapid breathing to... mmm... mmm... mmm... mmm... mmm... oh... oh... oh... ah~ I want a man's penis so badly~. I quickly took off my clothes to make it easier for my hands to roam over my body. I spread my legs wide and used my right hand to directly part my labia, inserting my middle finger into my vagina and continuously probing inside and out. Mmm... mmm... mmm... mmm... oh~ As my moans grew louder, my finger movements became more intense. Mmm... mmm... mmm... I called out to my husband lewdly, but in my mind I was thinking about the coach's strong muscles. After a while, my tense body felt a little tired. I hugged my breasts tightly with both hands, sandwiched a pillow between my thighs, and fell asleep in a state of lust.

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My swimming coach

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