The Training Session

Bridget Bellecerise
11 mins read
Published over 1 year ago

“Hips back, keep the bar tracking down your legs… nice! Perfect form, Ava!”

I wipe some sweat from my brow and give Jack a half smile. He’s worn me out with this class, but not as much as I want to wear him out. I try not to let my eyes linger when he demonstrates a pull up for someone, but I can’t help but stare at his hard, strong muscles. 

This whole hour has been torture—I can’t focus on squats or push-ups because I keep thinking about what happened a few days ago. 


I was a few glasses of wine deep, swiping through faces on a dating app when his stopped me, made my heart skip a beat. 

It was definitely him. Lively brown eyes, thick beard, broad shoulders filling out a rugged flannel. I’ve been yearning to taste him ever since I started taking his Body Pump class a few months ago. 

My wine-soaked brain, with no fear of potential awkwardness, swiped a hard right. Fuck. I put my phone down and groaned. 

Maybe he’ll be flattered, he’ll probably just think it’s cute. I tried to convince myself he wouldn’t hate me, pouring more red. Then, my phone lit up. 

It’s a match!

I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. 

Game on. 


“Ava, if you stick around after class, I can show you a stretch to help deepen those squats,” Jack says casually.

“Sweet, thanks.” I’m grinning. I hope the rest of the class doesn’t pick up on the tension I feel like I’m giving off. 

Everyone trails off and I kill time by stretching on the floor, trying to focus on the sensations of my body, the sound of my breathing, anything but my damp palms and pounding heart. I push up into downward facing dog and sigh. Then I hear the door click shut. 

I glance up and catch Jack checking out my ass. He senses me looking and his eyes dart to mine. He’s blushing now, but I don’t break his gaze. He closes the distance between us and then he’s pressing his palms against my hips slightly, his feet on either side of my hands. 

“Is this ok?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

He sinks his weight into my back, making my upper arms twist in and shoulders track down my back. He pulses slightly so that I’m loosening in places I didn’t even know I had tension. It feels amazing and a groan escapes me. Now it’s my turn to blush. But wait… 

Was that a twitch? 

Yes, I definitely feel a pressure where there wasn’t one before, just about where his cock would be. 

He pulses a few more times and steps back. I walk my hands back to standing, facing him. He’s looking a bit nervous, cheeks flushed. 

“That felt amazing,” I say, smiling at him. 

He cocks his eyebrow.

“I can show you an even better stretch, if you like.”

“Let’s do it,” I say.

I feel my heart beating faster in my chest as he asks me to face the mirror, the space between us thickening as it closes. I’m a few feet from the mirror now, and he has me lean forward so my hips are bent at a 90-degree angle, my palms against the mirror, arms straight and bracing. He guides his hips behind mine and I can feel the warmth of him through the fabric of my leggings. My pussy is starting to get wet at the thought of his cock being mere inches away from me. 

“You’ve got me in quite the compromising position, I joke. 

He smiles, holding me steady with one hand at my hip, his fingers folding into the crease where it meets my upper thigh. His right hand presses into my lower back.

“Deep breath in,” he says. I fill my chest up, my abdomen, my lower belly. “And exhale.” I release, and he presses along my spine, cracking it all the way up to my neck, where sparks erupt from my bones. I melt into him and fold forward, my ass brushing back against his pelvis. I nearly topple over but he catches me, easily lifting me to my feet. 

“Did that feel good?” His hand is back at my hip, my ass still grazing him. I look up at us in the mirror. He’s nearly a head taller than me. 

“It did.” I smile, cheekily resting my head back against his chest. 

“That was an ideal position to have you in.” He smirks, tipping my face up to his gently. 

“Oh, yeah?” I say, daring him to go further.

Our lips are almost touching. I can feel his breath. He pulls back for a moment and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

I answer by turning toward him and pressing my palm against his chest. With my other hand, I curl my fingers around the nape of his neck and bring his lips to mine. He kisses me slowly at first, tenderly exploring my lips and tongue. His hands move from my waist to the small of my back, then cup the curve of my ass. 

I have to stand on tiptoe to reach him properly, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other caressing the grooves of his muscular shoulders. I can feel the heat emanating from his body in waves as he presses his impossibly hard chest into my soft breasts, his iron hands running over my hips. 

He takes me by the back of my thighs and lifts me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist. My back is pressed against the mirror behind us and he pulses his hips into mine. I groan at the feeling of his cock hardening through the fabric of his pants.

I break away from his mouth to run my lips lightly down his neck, tasting the salt on him, his earthy aroma making me hungry for more. He tilts his head back and I make my way to his Adam’s apple, feel it vibrate when he says, “Now about that compromising position…”

I gasp in surprise when he drops me and catches me by the waist, turning me to face the mirror again. He runs his hands down my arms, spreading my hands wide and pressing them to the glass. 

“Spread your legs.”

“Fuck.” I obey him. I can feel my wetness seeping through my leggings now. I watch him in the mirror as he steps back to appraise me. His eyes are sparked with lust, but he has his brow furrowed seriously, deciding how best to handle this excellent opportunity. He runs his fingers lightly over my ass, then works his way up my back and waist, finally turning his attention to my breasts, which are practically tumbling out of my bra in this position. He cradles them in his big hands, pinching my nipples, feeling them harden. 

Suddenly, he yanks down the top of my tight sports bra, the neckline catching under my tits to push them up and together. I gasp and watch him stroke my exposed nipples while I grind back into his cock. 

He exhales and laughs, “I’ve been wanting to see those for a while.”

I grin and shimmy for him, letting him get an eyeful. “Anything else you wanna see?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says seriously, “but I’m taking my time.”

He presses one hand into my back, bringing it to an arch. “Be sure to keep your chest lifted,” he orders as he takes my ponytail and tugs it back toward him. I moan, loving the firm pressure at my scalp. Then, he reaches his hand between my legs, pressing strong fingers to my pelvis and drawing them back, stroking my pussy. I follow his lead, tilting my hips back toward him. He draws a line along my crease all the way up to the top of my ass, slowly, enjoying every inch. 

“Glutes strong,” he says, both hands moving to my ass now. I giggle at how he can’t help but instruct. 

“Don’t move,” he laughs. He reaches up, making sure my arms are still firm. My limbs are quivering from stimulation and exhaustion, but I fight the shake, eager to see what he’s got planned for me next. 

I look into the mirror to check out his cock, long and thick through what must be compression shorts. I can make out the bulge of his head, the cylinder of his shaft pressing against the black fabric. Am I imagining it or can I see it pulsing from here? The feel of his hand flat against my ass brings me back, he’s stroking it between my legs up past my clit over and over, creating friction, making my whole pussy tingly and warm. 

“You’re soaked for me, baby,” he says, breathlessly. 

He slows his rhythm and focuses his fingers, circling my clit. I can’t help but let out a high pitched whine from between clenched teeth as I feel myself swell. I arch my back harder, straining to press myself against his hand. I lift up on my tiptoes, begging him for more. 

“You know, I’ve been wanting to see your ass up close too,” he says as he kneels behind me. He reaches up and pulls my leggings down to my knees. Now just my red lace thong is separating us. He inches closer.

“May I?” he asks, grinning, fingers hovering just above my panty line. 

“God yes, do it!” I demand, and he strips off my thong, leaving my bare pussy inches from his face.

His warm breath hits me as he pauses. I squeeze my eyes shut and suddenly his wet mouth is on me, all over, working from my clit all the way up my ass. His hot tongue is moving like a wave, gently sucking, pushing, pulling me apart with his hands so he can reach every part of me. I brace myself against the mirror, knees too weak with pleasure to be useful. His mouth is covering my clit now, tongue smoothly licking up and down. He reaches one hand up, stroking his thumb in circles around my other hole, already wet from his mouth. 

“Yes!” I yell. “Give it to me!”

He pushes it into me slowly and I scream, squeezing my pussy, my walls throbbing, matching the rhythm of his mouth on my clit. The pressure from his thumb makes me feel so full that I might burst and I pump back into him frantically. I’m dripping into his beard and so close to coming all over him. 

“I wanna see your cock,” I whine, and he chuckles, reaching into his pants to oblige me. I watch him in the mirror as he pulls it out - yes, it’s so perfect, veiny, rock hard just for me. He starts to stroke it in time with my pulses into his face. It’s glistening with his juices.

“Oh, my God, yeah, yeah, you’re gonna make me come.”

He growls and works his thumb into me deeper, his mouth is all over me. I squeeze my pussy and he sucks my clit into his mouth perfectly and I can hear myself screaming, “Yes! Yes! I’m coming!” as I shudder against him, soaking his face.

“I wanna feel you come on my back,” I gasp, quivering with a glowing exhaustion.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, standing to tear my shirt up. 

“Give it to me, Jack,” I say, making eye contact with him in the mirror. He bites his lip and groans with his last few strokes, letting his hot come splatter across my bare skin. I exhale, eyes rolled back into my head, and fight the urge not to fall to the floor. 

He puts his cock away and takes off his shirt to clean me, and I finally get to admire his body fully. Chest and abs perfectly toned, two cuts of muscle at his hips angling toward his cock. I close my eyes to enjoy how gently and meticulously he cleans my back. When I’m all dried off, I turn around to help myself to his muscles, stroking between each groove. 

“Do you mind just... picking me up again?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes. 

He laughs and grabs me under my thighs, wrapping them around his waist and kisses me deeply. I can taste myself on him. I let my hands tool around his hair lazily, enjoying the feeling of melting into him.

Eventually, he breaks away to look at me and ask, “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?”

I can’t help but laugh at his earnestness, especially when his beard is still soaked in my come.

“Absolutely. I think we’ve earned it.” 


More by Bridget:

Better Than Dreaming
In His Head
The Visitor

BB
Written by
Bridget Bellecerise

Bridget Bellecerise keeps herself busy by conquering the mountains and men of Colorado. While she doesn’t like being told what to do when her clothes are on, it’s a different story in the bedroom. She draws her inspiration from her adventures in dating and the hot fantasies that occupy her mind.