The Trainer

She wore thigh high black boots, a very short black skirt, and a black jacket over a white, button down shirt. She was medium height, blonde, and very fit. She placed his hand on her leg as they sat at the bar and told him that all of this was his.

He wore blue jeans and dress shoes, a smart oxford, untucked. They were the same height because of her boots.

After a couple of margaritas and some tacos, she wanted to go for a walk. The night had a chill - it was early March, after all. She snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder and her body as close as she could get to him and the warmth of his wool coat and his body.

She wanted dessert. She wanted him. She wanted another drink. The first place they stopped was in the process of closing, drinks only, they said. No food to be had.

The next stop was perfect, decently crowded. They took a spot in the back

She ordered them drinks, and some shots to get started. His hand was on her bare thigh now, working its way to her center. She was warm and he could tell she was excited. Her blue eyes connected to his deep brown eyes and they knew - knew that they wanted the exact same thing, knew it would be incredible.

They were in the elevator of his building, he was pushing her into the corner, his lips on hers, the leather of her boot against his thigh. His erection was bulging through his jeans and pressing into her stomach. His hand on her firm ass.

The door to his apartment closed, and he was on her again. Could not resist her scent, her hunger, her firm body. She was 10 years older than he was and had by far the hottest body he’d seen. She unbuttoned her shirt to reveal amazing breasts and a belly button with a butterfly piercing.

As she unzipped her boots, he realized how short she truly was. He took her hand and led her to the floor to ceiling windows. She was in only black lace panties and her bra. He placed an arm around her waist and they looked at the city. He couldn’t stop looking at her, though. Wanting her.

He turned her to him and kissed her mouth again. Then took a step behind her, pushed her gently so she was facing the window, admiring the city. He stood and placed his hands at her waist, teased her piercing with his fingers.

His kisses danced on her shoulders, his bites on her neck ignited desire. His hands couldn’t resist the feel of her breasts, and he helped her remove her bra. There she was, looking out on the city, her body on display. Probably, no one could see her. Or, maybe they could make out a body, but couldn’t tell for sure what they were seeing. She found the thought of being caught, being seen exhilarating.

As he kissed and touched her, she felt the hardness of him. She told him to take off his shirt, and he complied. His warm chest now against her back, his hands inside her cotton panties, his fingers dancing on the wet folds of her pussy.

His tongue traced a line down her spine, then all the way back up. He turned her head to him, kissed her desperate lips. He unzipped his pants, and she noted the thick bulge, the wetness from his arousal.

He told her to turn around again, and she did. He pressed her against the cold glass, kissed her back, her shoulders, down, his tongue and teeth and lips on her firm ass. He really hadn’t seen a body like this one, like hers. He grabbed the waistband of her panties, pulled them down. Held them to his face, took in her scent.

His lips were on her again, parting her ass, tasting her down to her dripping pussy. He grabbed her waist, pushed her body forward, positioned his head so he could tease and taunt her angry clit.

She was pressed to the glass, her mouth hot and wet and steamy, the glass cool against her fiery skin. She wanted him, wanted him inside her, but she also didn’t want this to stop. His tongue was exceptional. Stiff and firm and wet and hungry for her.

Her hands opened against the glass, her face was hot and red. He was relentless, and she loved every second. He could feel her body tensing, could feel her getting close. He kept going, going. Tasting her salty, sweet, heavenly essence. Two fingers inside her as his tongue and lips sucked and licked and pleased.

She let out a deep moan, a scream, her body pulsing on his face, his mouth absorbing every drop of her.

He took her hand, led her to the bed, told her to rest.

He began rubbing her calves, her thighs, his hands cupping her breasts, holding them. He applied his lips to her neck, kissed her, held her.

He stood and just took all of her in. She admired the thickness of his cock in its outline against his boxer briefs.

He pulled them down, and her eyes grew wide at the sight of him. Thick, decently long, and clearly very ready for her.

He kissed her inner thigh, tasted the creamy warmth of her climax. Then, he was on top of her, his cock in his hand, held against her clit. His mouth on her mouth, his eyes locked on hers.

He looked at her, watched her react as he inched inside. One inch, two inches, all of him. Thick and hard and pulsing and eager. Her body felt so good, so warm, so ready for him. He was as far inside her as he could go now, and he held himself there, kissed her. Tasted her desire.

He eased out a bit, then back in. All the way. Slow, soft, rocking her body gently. She eased her feet onto his back, urged him inside her. They fucked carefully, savoring each and very second of the unity of their bodies.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pushed in, out, in, and out. Hard, fast, looking in her eyes the whole time. His body hot, sweaty, pressed against and inside hers. She felt him thrust hard and long and he held it there, then back out. Then back in again, all the way, hard, holding. He was grinding against her as his mouth let out a sound, a muffled scream, the word “fuck….”

He looked into her eyes as his cum poured inside her. Smiled. Let himself slip out.

They held each other. Bodies sticky and warm and wonderful.

She told him he was a pretty good workout. And that she would accept the position as his personal trainer.