The Athletic Trainer

by Lana Brazen

  “A little higher. I see you’re still dripping. I can’t afford a spill on the mat, so let’s clean this up.” He moves me by my hips until I’m kneeling over his face. Propped on all fours, my hands hold me, but I tuck my head to look at his between my thighs in this position. He shoves the skirt over my backside and laps at my mess.

  Sweet Jesus.

  After the first firm lick, his tongue traces my already soaked folds, sucking at my clit before forcing his tongue inside me. My hips lower as my back rounds like a satisfied kitty. My pussy is so pleased with his eager attention and quickly, my knees shake, my arms quake. I’m not certain I have the strength to hold the position. Sensing my struggle, he curls his hands over my hips, holding me to his face as his tongue does what it does to me. Fucking, sweet tongue fucking.

  I clench, thrusting my hips forward and pausing in position as I fall apart again. A sweet release rushes out of me once more, and the mat disappears in my vision, breaking into tiny fibers as do I. I’ve never come three times in a row, and he hasn’t even entered me with that throbbing thickness of his.

  With a final lick, he releases me, guiding me back down his body. He continues pressing until I’m over his waist.

  “Jaw workout,” he groans, a fissure in his voice, and I look up to see the evidence of what he did to me coating his lips. He shifts his shorts lower on his hips, releasing the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. My eager fingers wrap around his girth, feeling the solid, firm length. I squeeze, but he grunts. “Mouth.”

  Lowering, I draw him as deep as I can, which still isn’t far enough. It’d be impossible to get him all between my cheeks. He’s so long, and my hand works the lower portion of his shaft before slipping my fingers to his balls and cupping the sac. His hips flex, forcing him upward, deeper into my throat. My eyes water, but I want to please him. I want to give him what he just gave me. Pleasure. Satisfaction. Freedom.

  “Do you know anything about me?” His voice strains on the question, and I’m wondering if I’m supposed to release him to answer. A hand tenderly comes to my hair, and I still.

  “You’re Eric McCurdy,” I state, not giving away that I do know a bit of his public history. I didn’t think we were supposed to share personal affects.

  “Dirty McCurdy,” he whispers, and I bite my lip. “I want to talk dirty to you.”

  For the first time, he looks at me as if asking permission for something. I nod, uncertain what I’m agreeing to.

  “I want to come down your throat. Spill down that neck.” His hand reaches forward, covering said neck, and I swallow against his warm palm. “That’s right. I want to feel you swallow my cum.” He pauses a second, watching his fingers at my throat. “But we have one final exercise to assess this evening.” Exercising self-control, he guides me to sit back with his hand still at my neck, and he sits up with abdominal strength I lack. Crunches pay off for him. “On your back again. Hip thrusts next.”

  I quickly fall back, bending my knees and separating my feet to provide for the width of his body, which follows after mine, returning to his kneeling position.

  “We’ll take this slow. Work it deep.” Pushing aside my skirt, he slips a finger in me again.

  “I see you are ready to continue.” He pauses and pulls a package from his shorts. Ripping at the foil, he removes the condom and covers himself. I watch, mesmerized as he strokes himself once, twice. His dick looks angry and ready to enter me, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me. He’s a vision of sport and athleticism with tight abs peeking out from his slightly raised shirt. He leans forward, placing a hand outside my hip again, and without much warning, he thrusts into me and stills. The muscles of his neck strain.

  “Let’s give ourselves a second.” He holds himself inside me, his other hand resting outside my hip. I watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes deeply. Then he sits back, drawing his knees underneath mine, and my lower half lifts.

  “We’re going to work it just like this. Up and hold.” He lifts me by my hips, with his thick dick still buried inside me. His hands slip to my backside, squeezing each globe as he holds our position and everything clenches. My butt. My pussy. Then he lowers me, only I don’t hit the mat. I land on his solid thighs. Under his guidance, our movement continues, lower and lift, lower and lift. It’s slow and concise and driving me mad.

  “Squeeze at the hold. Clench that sweet fucking ass of yours.” His hands clutch my backside, emphasizing his words before fingers glide between the tight crease and spread me.

  “Ever worked this muscle with someone?”

  This time, I understand his meaning. It’s crass to consider as I know why this is one of the strongest muscles on the body—expelling, not entering.

  “Never.”

  “Not even a finger.”

  “Nope.”

  We almost collapse, his attention lost a little at my revelation.

  “Then it needs exercise as well.” His eyes return to where he enters me, re-focusing his attention. “I want you to hold and squeeze.”

  Following his instructions, I pause after he lifts my hips, squeezing with my ass and pussy, and then he drags back and thrusts forward. Sweet Jesus, that was delicious.

  “Fuck, your pussy…you’re so fucking wet, and you’re dripping down my balls.”

  He lowers me but quickly repeats the exercise.

  Lift. Hold. Squeeze. Thrust.

  “Give me one more,” he demands, and I don’t know what he means until his thumb covers my clit. Our tempo increases, and I’m already catching my breath, concentrating on clenching around him.

  “Really work it. Squeeze,” he strains, losing a bit of control himself. My fingers are desperate to reach for his ass, to grip those two fine globes in my own hands and hold him in my depths. I scream as I come around him, coming apart myself like the atoms of my being separate before rushing back together. I’ve never come so hard.

  Quickly, Eric pulls out of me, and my lower half falls back to the mat. He rips off the condom, kneeling over me, and releases stringy ropes of cum on the strip of hair down there. Gripping himself, he watches as he spills his release on my landing strip. Christ, this is unreal.

  “Your pussy fucked me so hard.”

  I lay there, spent but satisfied.

  “Great workout,” he says, his own voice out of breath, and for some reason, I laugh.

  No kidding.

  3

  Alene

  Vanessa warned me not to get attached in these arranged situations. She’d been with Andrew when she was married. Her and her husband. But then, she grew obsessed, wanting more of Andrew and less of Max. Max was a good man. He just didn’t realize you can’t try to give your wife fantasies without a stable marriage. Vanessa was unsettled, and she hoped this would bring them closer—her, her husband, and a partner.

  Instead, it tore them further apart. They were already severed in many ways, and if you ask me, Vanessa wasn’t fair to Max. But she’s my cousin and my best friend, which is how I know about Andrew, who led me to Eric. Vanessa knew Stephen dumped me, citting how conventional and boring I was. She offered me Andrew’s number, not so I could hook up with him but so I could find someone willing to teach me a few things. Exercise my mind...or in this case, my body.

  I’d never experienced anything like I had with Eric. First, it was public, even if we were alone. Second, it was so out of control. Him with his exercises, each including something sexual. I wasn’t ever going to look at a real gym the same again. I’d want someone to do me on a treadmill, which didn’t even seem possible.

  Come to think of it, Eric’s gym didn’t have a treadmill. Speed and agility training, he called it the first time. Resistance training. I didn’t know anything about that, though. There’s nothing I’d resist from him.

  I return a week to the date of my first visit. He told me I’d need some recovery time, and I had to admit my upper thighs did ache as well as other parts. I told him about my thigh ache in our more formal pre-exercise
interview.

  “You can always stretch using a roller.” He tosses a cylinder hard-foam tube to the ground and lies face down, slipping it under his upper thigh. He rolls forward and back. His hips flex. His ass clenches. His body moves in a way completely sexual as though he’s thrusting into someone. Up and back. Up and back. I salivate a little, wondering if he’ll be using these motions on me.

  I’ve signed all the disclosures again, so I know we are on the same page about this workout.

  “We’ll be doing some arm work today,” he begins, serious and rugged as though he’s really coaching me. He hands me a long hollow bar and tells me to lift it over my head and around to my back. “This opens the triceps, biceps and shoulders.”

  I watch him watch my breasts, which are forced forward with each attempt to lift the bar, keeping my hands at equal distances, and stretching behind me. After several rotations, he steps forward, asking me to step back. I collide with a matted wall at my back.

  “Keep your arms up.” I hold the bar over my head, hands spread, and he strokes a finger along my neck and down to the swell of breast exposed above my sports bar. I’m back in the crotchless skirt and a new sports bra.

  “I see you have better support. May I assess the fit?”

  I nod, and he tips a brow. “Hold that bar. Don’t hit me in the head.”

  My new bra has a little zipper in the front, and he unzips it to relieve the weighty globes. Freeing one, he cups the fullness before bending forward and drawing the flesh into his warm mouth. His tongue teases the nipple, moving back and forth over the sharp peak before he engulfs the swell and then quickly draws back, tugging my breast with the retreat and nipping the nipple. The areola is large and dark, the nipple sharp and erect. The swell aches for more attention.

  “You have perfect breasts, and I want to fuck them.” He runs a finger through the tight crease formed from the two globes pressed together in the constricting bra.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He releases the other breast, and they strain against each other within the confines of the material trussing them upward. His mouth moves to my other breast, teasing, tickling, and sucking it taut.

  “Perfect,” he mutters, and that word does something to me.

  “You may lower the bar, but we’ll bring it to the bench.” Stepping back, he leads me to a weight bench and points for me to sit, knees at the short end.

  “Lie back but spread your knees.” I place the backs just outside the corners of the cushioned seat as I lie on my back, holding the hollow bar on my belly. Eric stands near my knees, assessing how the material of the skirt lays across the opening on my legs.

  “May I?” he asks, reaching for the covering and shifting it. “Come to the edge of the bench, please.”

  I scoot until my ass dangles, and then he tells me to lift the bar over my head, holding it once again. He kneels before me, eyes on my exposed center between my open thighs.

  “Did you work these muscles yourself in the past few days?”

  As honesty is the best policy, and you only cheat yourself when you lie about exercise, I tell the truth. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “Really? Temptation is dangerous...food, beverages, exercise.” I feel chastised, but he quickly adds, “May I test the muscle strength?”

  Slowly, he lifts the fabric of the skirt to my lower abs and slips two fingers into my depths. I’m already wet.

  “Hmm...” he moans, removing his fingers and lowering his head. His mouth takes me with a firm suck of my clit before his tongue splits my folds and enters me. My hips buck, but his hands press at my thighs, holding me still. Pinned by my hands curled on the bar above my head, I hold on for dear life as he eats me as though I’m his last meal. He’s ravenous as he slurps and sucks, coating me with his tongue. My own juices mix with his saliva, and he dips a finger into me. Then his tongue returns to its feast at my clit. The finger withdraws and slips lower, halting at the rim of another hole.

  “Open to the possibility.” He isn’t questioning but coaching, encouraging. He wants me to relax, and I take a deep breath. His finger returns to my wet pussy, dipping in and out again before he retracts and draws down to the puckered hole once again. He’s coating me in my own sweetness. He repeats this once more, and then his fingertip presses at my back hole, holding at the entrance as his mouth returns to teasing me, continuing to lap and lick and salivate. I’m dripping, and I feel the juices rolling from pussy to ass.

  His halting finger presses firmer, breaching the unbreeched, and I squeeze, resisting while curious.

  “Just breathe,” he murmurs against my lower lips as his tongue slices me, and the fingertip slips farther within. His mouth sucks my clit hard, and I break, clenching the finger stretching my other hole. It’s surreal, a bit sinful, and so sexy.

  Oh. Oh.

  When he pulls back, he looks up at me, slowly removing the thick finger from my backside. His lips glisten with what he’s done to me, but he also holds a smug expression on his face.

  “You’re going to be so fucking tight when I take you there,” he warns, hinting at the future of our workouts. “But today, we go back to upper body.”

  He stands and immediately forces his shorts to the floor. He kicks off his shoes and walks over me, straddling my body where it reclines on the bench. He climbs over me until his dick—long, strong and seeping—nears my face, and I lift my head, eager to take him in. My mouth falls open, ready for him, but he pauses.

  “You mentioned you sought self-satisfaction, but did you also seek anyone’s assistance?” There’s an edge to the question, and he adds. “Have you fucked someone since I saw you last?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been saving myself for you.”

  He slowly smiles. “So sweet.”

  The comment pleases me, and he holds himself steady, positioning the tip at my lips. I open and draw him forward, taking him once again as deep as I can. Using unparalleled thigh strength, he balances over me, not on me, sliding slowly forward and pulling back, guiding himself to fuck my mouth.

  “Those lips,” he groans as I suck the ridged edges of him, pulling up to the tip and focusing there before swallowing down the shaft. My tongue twirls around the thickness.

  “That tongue,” he growls, retracting from my mouth before moving his body lower over mine and pausing near my chest.

  “May I?” he asks as his fingers return to the zipper of my bra, unlatching the catch, and my breasts fall free with relief. He cups them each, lifting them as he places his coated dick, slick with my saliva, between them. Gliding back and forth, he presses the weighty swells on either side of his thick length. His eyes close as he takes his time, rubbing between my breasts. A soft grunt leaves him, and I look at the wet head slipping through the passageway my breasts make for him. His lids lift, and he looks down at himself sandwiched between the large globes.

  “Look at what you’re making me do,” he says. “Look how those nipples react, tight and peaked, knowing what these fucking breasts do to me. You have the perfect tits.” He lifts upward and leans forward, drawing his dick to my mouth once again. “Suck.”

  With more gusto, I do as he commands, hollowing my cheeks for suction as my tongue laps at the length. He pulls back too quickly.

  “I’m gonna come,” he warns, the strain evident, the release impossible to hold back.

  “On me,” I groan, knowing I want this. I want to see him lose control and cover me. As he stands over me, warm, white liquid spurts forward, and he draws it over the tip of one nipple before positioning toward the other. He paints me in the creamy substance until there’s nothing left. Looking down at me, his green eyes are the color of spruce trees at Christmas.

  Leaving me as I am, he reaches for the bar I’ve held in my hands and removes it from my grasp. Dropping it to the floor, he walks his body back until he kneels between my thighs again.

  Two fingers rush forward, filling me as he goes soft. His other fingers reach for the mess he made on my ch
est, spreading it over my nipples again, circling one and then the other, drawing an infinity sign across my chest. Then he lifts a finger coated in his cum and slips his hand back under my ass. With a finger pistoning into one hole, his finger covered in his own lubrication slips back to the other, forcing the stretch a bit more.

  “You tighten around my fingers in your pussy, holding me deep with your muscles. Yet you clench in resistance to the other up your ass. But you want them both, don’t you? You’re willing to work for it, but you want me to fill every part of you, don’t you?”

  He has no idea. I do, I so do, and my body begins to spiral, swirls rippling to my belly, and tendrils creeping up my thighs.

  “That’s it, fuck my fingers like you sucked my cock. You want this, and I’ve got you wrapped around my fingers. You like being wrapped around my fingers, don’t you?”

  Nodding, I scream in relief as I come, coating his fingers as his dirty words wrap around me. He has a filthy mouth, and I love it.

  We didn’t have actual sex this time, and I miss that, but this…this was more than I expected once again.

  4

  Eric

  “Man, I don’t want to talk out of school, but her tits are huge, and I lost myself a little last week. I forgot it was supposed to be about her.”

  “Is she ready for a third party?” Andrew claps and rubs his hands together as we sit at the bar. It’s Saturday, and I wish I was at the ball field because I need to blow off steam. Then again, I’m surprised by how much being with Alene has helped me release tension when it’s supposed to be about her experience. She wants me. I see it in her eyes. And she responds well to me, which is such a confidence rush.

  Do we need a third party? I don’t know that I do, but I won’t say no just as I didn’t decline Andrew when his girl wanted it. I also don’t think Andrew’s offering to be my wingman...unless...

  “Are you saying you’re willing?”

  “I’d offer nothing without Annette’s permission, so that’s a firm negative. I like watching her, how she gets off, but I don’t need an extra for me. She fulfills every fantasy I have.”