Sweat Session

“No… I can’t… Uh… My body belongs to my husband…”

At the gym, I hired a personal trainer to work on my glutes.

To make sure I was training my hips right, I wore a pink mini skirt with a hint of my plain white underwear peeking out from underneath.

As if I wasn’t sensitive enough, the personal trainer lifted my skirt and pressed against my thighs.

I felt a tingling sensation coursing through my body.

The personal trainer tugged down my damp underwear.

“Are you getting an itch you can’t scratch? Let me help you there.”

I, Kathleen Green, was an attractive housewife.

In the three years of marriage with my husband, we had tried every position imaginable in our 1,000 sessions.

One day, I was on all fours, my hips arched high to meet Kent Green’s intense thrusting.

He pounded hard against my rear.

It didn’t take long before he let out a sigh of resignation.

“Jeez. You can use a perkier bottom. It just doesn’t hit right.

“I love a nice bounce to it.”

To spice things up in the bedroom, I sought out a personal trainer to target my glutes.

My trainer was a total buffed hunk named Harry Mason.

His skintight gym wear did little to cover up his bulge.

Addressing my pleas, Harry set up a nighttime training schedule for me.

For better observation of my progress, Harry told me to drop the safety shorts under the skirt.

My cheeks burned with shame at the thought of how little modesty I would present myself in front of a stranger.

However, I convinced myself to go along with it to keep Kent happy.

Stepping out of the house in a mini skirt, I could feel the breeze between my legs.

I was careful not to bend over while out and about, or I’d be completely exposed to the world.

Every man I passed had their eyes glued to my hemline. It was the most embarrassing thing ever.

As a woman with a high libido, I practically had to hold myself back from screaming under the burning stares of these men.

Once at the gym, I couldn’t take my eyes off the sheer bulk of my personal trainer.

The little fabric was struggling to provide cover for his size.

Harry beckoned me over.

“Kathleen, come here. I’ve got your workout all planned out.”

I was on cloud nine with the room full of attractive men and women.

Overcome with nerves and anticipation, I approached Harry.

“Squats are key to getting a lifted, firm butt. Grip the barbell with both hands and squat down. Make sure you feel the pull along your spine.

“Push your hips back as far as possible to hit your glutes.”

Standing behind me, Harry guided me through every step.

His package was right there, brushing against my backside at close distance.

With each grazing contact, I felt a jolt run up from my tailbone, making me shiver all over.

“Alright. Try a squat now.”

I wasn’t one to hit the gym, so strength wasn’t my forte. As soon as I dipped into a squat, my center of gravity shifted.

Losing my footing, I fell back onto Harry.

Right on target, I landed squarely on that throbbing mass of his.

It was bad enough that I wore a skirt with little to no coverage, but my panties were practically nonexistent as it felt like he was positioned right against my skin.

Feeling a rush to my loins, I was utterly embarrassed.

The sheer scale of him felt so much better than Kent’s.

Harry held me under my arms and helped me back to my feet.

I said blushingly, “I didn’t mean to… I lost my balance. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re new. You’ll get the hang of the training soon.”

The way Harry looked at me was smoldering, like he wanted to devour me alive.

It struck me that, given our height difference, I couldn’t possibly bump my hips onto his swelling.

Unless Harry put himself there on purpose at the right place and time.

Oh, my! This was straight out of a tabloid headline, and it was happening to me in real time.

Yet, I wasn’t the least bit upset. In fact, excitement stirred within me.

To be honest, the rush was nothing less than thrilling.

With my thoughts wandering toward trouble, I quickly grounded myself.

I couldn’t possibly cross the line, as my body was reserved for my husband.

Soon enough, I reset my position, feet hip-width apart. I was determined not to fall this time.

Raising the barbell with all my might, I braced myself for another squat when Harry clamped down over my wrists.

“Here, let me give you a little extra support.”

His firm grip from behind made me feel almost bound, and my shame only deepened.

Surely, I wouldn’t drop out of my stance with Harry’s help.

Steeling myself, I tensed my muscles and sank back into a squat.