It had been a hard work out, both sitting slumped over the bench at the bottom of the mountain, catching our breath. The gentle mountain breeze helping somewhat as I sucked in large lungfuls of air.
“Jump to it, lets get some stretching done…”
My PT is a ball breaker, I’ve been working hard to follow that gorgeous arse up the endless steps. The pain of each agonising tread offset by the silky lycra clad legs before me.
Feeling my muscles burn as I stretch out.
Cheeky sidewards glances as I’m being instructed on improved technique.
I’m starting to feel fitter and stronger, its been a few weeks now with this new regime. However also comes with a cost, an increased sex drive.
She knows she’s hot, I’m sure she intentionally positions herself just at the right angle to drive me nuts. Theres a line though, no playing with the clients, very clear rules. All it does is drive me crazy.
“Ouch… ” she cries suddenly, a twinge in her shoulder. She winces but shrugs it off and commands me to get down and start doing burpees, definitely not my favourite.
As I’m huffing and puffing, I notice she is rubbing her shoulder, obviously in pain.
I finish my mandatory sentence and stop.
“Would you like a rub?”, I ask.
She begrudgingly agrees, obviously the pain offsetting the reluctance for physical contact.
My strong hands, gentle against her soft skin.
I feel knots that need working on, and my thumbs start their magic.
She moans, but quickly shuts that down.
I gently walk her to the bench and continue releasing the pressure on those sore muscles. My hands feel good against her skin, our closeness is comforting.
“This doesn’t mean you get off the rest of the work out, buddy!” Told you she’s a ball breaker.
Yet she remains seated as my hands work across her shoulders, down her slender, yet strong arms.
Feels nice, straddling the bench, she pushes back between my legs, not much but enough that there is contact.
She leans forward, stretching as my hands work down her back.
Sports bras can be annoying to massage around, however there is enough other parts that need attention.
My strong hands firm against the tops of her waist, massaging those lower back joints that can ache.
She groans again, unintentionally, trying to resist that feeling of release as the muscle tension goes.
“Right you” she jumps up, opportunity gone…
A week later we are back at her favourite place of pain, as she likes to call it.
I’m feeling the burn, my legs ache, my chest thumping.
That lithe butt just meters away, so cute, tormenting me.
Come on push through I keep willing myself as i put the next foot in front over and over.
We pause at the usual spot someway up the mountain. Plank time.
She usually just stands over me, making we work, don’t know, something is different today.
She joins me.
We start with a plank.
I assume the position, she’s facing me.
Usually I’d be looking down, yes I know, bad posture, bowing my back, but there is an incentive today.
I’m trying so hard to look up and forward, she’s facing me, I’m either looking straight into her smiling eyes or trying so desperately not to drop my gauze as I notice out of my peripheral vision that her sports top is looser than normal.
Tantalising view of forbidden flesh.
Its killing me, I can’t look without being obvious yet my mind is crying out…. please peek.
“Good job” she says and jumps up, obviously the two minutes has gone quickly.
Her gorgeous butt, disappearing further up the trail.
At the tail end of summer the weather can be quite erratic, it had been quite warm in our work out, however a sudden rain shower dumped on us as we reached the top of the trail head.
I guess most work out clothes are meant to be adapted to allow for being drenched.
Not sure that whether it was intentional or not, but what was a white top no longer offered much concealment.
Sure a good sports bra conceals most things.
But enough of an incentive to push to get to the top to see the front part.
My legs burned as I passed her. Couldn’t help but glance sideways at the lovely view presented next to me.
She was slightly startled by my new enthusiasm, usually always leading and pushing on.
I make it to the top, but only just in front.
I turn to admire my success, grabbling one quick glimpse of this gorgeous woman, almost naked from the waist up before she commands me with the next exercise.
It’s so very hard to concentrate as I’m doing sit-ups, she’s standing, spotting me, and each sit up is greeted with a lovely view. Luckily there is little blood left over after my antics to embarrass myself right now.
The return down the hill is always a little challenging particularity when it’s been raining, the steps slippery, the light drizzle not helping at all.
My previous efforts left me quite drained, a little unsure of my footing, and in the rush to get down I slip and tumble off into the ferns beside the trail. I slide some way down the side of the trail coming to rest awkwardly on my back.
“You okay?” She calls down
“Think so, but my leg is killing me” I respond.
Next thing she is sliding down beside me. Normally something I’d be very very happy with, except she’s sort of on top of me, in the rain, at the bottom of a little valley covered in leaves and moss and my leg is now killing me.
Without hesitation she strips off her top and wraps it around the gouge in my thigh where I’ve landed on a protruding stick, her sports bra offering scant protection from my quick eyes.
We slide and struggle back up to the path, rain is now pretty constant, my shirt is ripped to shreds, her shirt stained in blood, wrapped around my leg, sorry sight that we are, now getting cold but still in good spirits.
“Can you walk?” She asks.
I nod and grimace.
We start limping down the pathway, her under my arm supporting my leg.
Despite the pain, I can’t help notice how nice she feels tucked in close, our bare skin touching, warm.
The rain is slowly draining our heat from exposed flesh, she snuggles in closer.
My arm hanging over her shoulder close.
She feels nice and soft where our body’s touch, my mind wanders, definitely helping with the pain.
My eyes catch the subtle bounce of her almost revealed breasts with each step.
“Hey Mr, watch where you’re walking..” a warning that I’m clearly not focused on the task at hand.
“‘Hey Mr, watch what that hand is doing…” a warning as my hand may have slipped somewhat.
We make it back to the car park safely. “The wound doesn’t look too major, just get it cleaned and dressed”, she says, “we may need to continue with some less impact exercise next week”
And with that, jumps in her car and speeds off, only to return minutes later and exit via the correct road.
I stand looking wistfully after her, feeling a warm glow from the day, I wonder what next week will hold…
The Pool
The Doctor had done a good job of cleaning up my leg wound and had supplied me with a waterproof plaster that would allow me to continue my exercise regime, my goal to be fit and buff again.
“Good morning” her cheerful voice called out.
My PT was becoming more and more a motivation to work out as time went by.