Personal Trainer

I'm Jake, 28, stuck in a rut. Office job, beer gut creeping up, confidence shot. Gym memberships? Started strong, fizzled out.

****, I sign up for personal training at Elite Fit. The ad promises results with a no-nonsense trainer. First session's today.

I arrive early, towel over shoulder, shorts loose. The gym's packed—clanging weights, grunts echoing.

A woman approaches: tall, muscled, mid-30s. Black sports bra hugs her chest, abs rippled under tanned skin. Leggings cling to thick thighs, a suspicious outline at her crotch.

'Jake? I'm Tara, your trainer.' Her voice commands, handshake crushes mine. Eyes lock—piercing green, assessing.

We start with basics: warm-up jog on treadmills. She matches my pace, barking form corrections.

'Knees up! Push harder!' Sweat beads fast; she's dry, effortless. Moves to weights—squats. She spots me, hands on my hips, guiding down.

'Deeper. Feel the burn.' Her touch lingers, firm grip. I strain, thighs quaking. She presses closer from behind, breath hot on my neck. 'Good boy. Hold it.'

Session ends; I'm wrecked, muscles screaming. She hands a water bottle.

'Progress. Twice a week. Don't skip.' I nod, dazed. Her bulge twitches as she adjusts her leggings—definite cock shape.

Futa? Rumors swirl in the locker room, but I shake it off.

Week two: deadlifts. Tara demonstrates—back straight, ass flexing. I try, form sloppy. She steps in, body molds to mine.

'Like this.' Her front presses my back; hard length pokes my butt through fabric. I freeze.

She grinds subtle, whispers, 'Focus.' Lifts improve, but arousal stirs. Post-workout stretch: on mats, she pins my leg high.

Face inches from her crotch—scent musky, intoxicating. 'Breathe through it.' Her hand trails my inner thigh, stops short.

By session three, tension boils. Cardio circuit: burpees, she counts reps loud. I collapse after, chest heaving. She kneels, straddles my waist—weight pins me.

'Push-up position. Up!' I rise, her pussy heat radiates through leggings, cock semi-hard against my abs. She rocks during holds, friction building.

'You're getting stronger. But you need motivation.' Eyes dare me.

Locker room after: I shower quick, towel around waist. Door creaks—Tara enters, bold.

'Forgot to mention: private sessions available. My office.' She's in a tank top now, shorts tented obviously. I stammer, 'Uh, sure.' Follow her to a back room—mirrors, bench, dim lights.

Door locks. 'Strip. Full workout.' I hesitate; she yanks my towel. Naked, cock half-erect from earlier. She circles, appraises.

'Not bad base. We'll build.' Peels off her top—breasts full, nipples dark. Shorts drop: cock flops out, thick eight inches, balls heavy. Below, pussy lips peek, shaved smooth. 'Suck it. Warm-up.'

On knees, I lean in. Tip brushes lips—salty pre-cum. Mouth opens; tongue swirls head. She grabs hair, thrusts shallow.

'Deeper, trainee.' Gullet stretches; I gag, saliva coats shaft. She face-fucks steady, balls tap chin. 'Good stretch for your throat.' Hand pumps base, foreskin glides.

Pulls out, strings of spit connect. 'Bench. Ass up.' I bend over, cheeks spread. She spits on my hole, finger probes—circles rim, pushes in.

'Tight. Loosen.' Second digit joins, scissoring. I moan, cock drips below. She lubes her dick—bottle from drawer—lines up.

'Breathe.' Head breaches; burn flares, then fullness. Inches slide, prostate nudged.

She grips hips, rams deep.

'Take the reps.' Slaps echo—wet, rhythmic. Balls swing, smack my sack. I push back, chasing friction. Her free hand reaches, strokes my erection.

'Edge it. No cum yet.' Pace quickens; she grunts, sweat drips on my back. 'Clench—milk me.' I do; her cock throbs.

Yanks out sudden.

'Flip. Legs up.' On back, ankles to shoulders. She plunges her pussy down—wet folds engulf my shaft. Tight, velvety grip. Rides hard, tits bounce. Her dick slaps my belly, leaking.

'Fuck back.' Hips buck; dual sensations overwhelm. She jerks herself, syncs strokes.

'Now—inside you again.' Shifts, cock re-enters ass. Pounds missionary—deep angles hit spots. Her pussy grinds my base.

'Cum with me.' I erupt first—seed sprays her abs. She follows: hot ropes fill me, overflow leaks. Pussy spasms, juices soak my groin.

We pant, bodies slick. She pulls out slow, cum bubbles.

'Session complete. Hydrate.' Cleans us with towels, dresses. 'Next week: endurance. Be ready.' I nod, legs jelly. Hooked—fitness goal? Secondary now.

Sessions evolve: weights with her cock in my mouth between sets. Cardio? Her riding my face, pussy smothering as I plank.

Deadlifts: bent over, she rails from behind, spotting with thrusts. Dominance ramps—collar during privates, 'Good boy' praises.

One night, overtime: full circuit. End with her on bench, me eating her out.

Tongue laps folds, sucks clit. She cums—squirt hits my chin. Then anal chain: I fuck her ass first—tight ring grips, she moans commands.

Pull out; she bends me, reclaims with her dick. Mutual creampies—her in me, me in her pussy after.

Months in: mirror shows changes—lean muscle, stamina up. But the real win? Tara's ownership. Post-gym dates: her apartment, bound to bedposts.

She pegs with strap-on while stroking her real cock, then switches. Orgasms endless—throat, ass, pussy filled.

Final 'graduation': gym closes early. She locks up, leads me to empty floor. 'Ultimate test.' Strips us both. Starts with blowjob—deepthroats me to edge, denies.

Then ties wrists to pull-up bar. Legs spread, she alternates: cock in ass, fingers in pussy on herself.

Drops to knees, sucks my balls while thrusting. 'Endure.' I beg; she allows release—cum arcs, she catches on tongue. Frees me; I eat her—cock and pussy, alternating licks. She unloads down throat, pussy floods mouth.

Climax: her on top, cock buried in me, my dick in her cunt. Grind together—sweat, moans fill space. Dual peaks: seed mixes, leaks everywhere. Collapse, her weight comforting.

'Trained well, Jake. Maintenance sessions?' I grin. 'Daily.' Dominant futa trainer? Best decision ever. Body transformed, submission complete.

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