Brod: The Trainer

"Um. This is men's body wash," I said. Even after all this, her giving me a simple two-word command surprised me. Two of the girls nearby laughed.

"Do you honestly think that men and women need different soap? That we have some kind of alien chemistry?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "This soap is too manly for us, ladies, we might start growing boob-hair."

I wasn't sure, but I think I blushed. "S-sorry?" I warbled before giving my own uneasy chuckle. "No, you just surprised me."

"Brod, if you want me to keep training you, you're going to wash me," Yara told me. "Now."

I squinted at her, not sure how to take this. I mean, I'd followed her orders up till now, but that's because I thought it was all part of the training. Now It just seemed like she was rubbing it in. What came out of my mouth was, "You're a strong girl, I think you can handle it."

Yara sighed and moved closer, patting my cheek. "Brod, Brod. It's just a game. Okay? You liked me ordering you around before. You got a boner from being smothered."

I gave her what I thought was a Clint Eastwood man-with-no-name glare. I just ended up looking like a pouty raisin. I'm really bad at being a tough guy.

She kissed my cheek. "I like you. There's a type of guy that comes in here whose brains are basically powered by testosterone." She did her best frat boy impression, " 'Oh, you sure you can handle this? Hey babe, how 'bout I train you?' Then I have to whip them into shape and teach them some respect." Yara rolled her eyes.

"What does that have to do with making me wash you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Back then, I just didn't understand the game.

Yara chuckled. "This is what. You respected me right off the bat. You have the biggest nuts I've ever seen in my life, but you don't act like an idiot. My point is that I think you're mature enough to handle the game, if you want to play."

The water kept raining down on us as we had this conversation, making it unintentionally melodramatic. And then that melodrama was quashed by my stupid pouty face and the fact that we were naked and girls were standing everywhere leaking my jizz.

She continued, "I can't make you do a single thing you don't want to. And you liked it when I gave you orders before. It's all up to you. Do you want to wash me? If you do, it's your choice."

My face softened. It ... sounded reasonable. I was just playing a game with her, not signing over my autonomy. It was a game. "Tell me again."

She grinned before putting on her serious face. "Brod. Put yourself to use. Wash me."

"Yes, okay." I began to lather her body up as she stood there, hands on her hips. Fuck, such long legs, such sculpted lines ... she was like a caramel-colored Wonder Woman. I gently scrubbed over her small breasts. I wanted to suck them. Suds rolled over her flat eight-pack. The cloth swept over her rounded deltoids, her taut biceps, her wide hips. I knelt at her feet. She stared down at me, her face impassive and stern. Come to think of it, she may also be why I have a thing about Kiryuin Satsuki, even though I haven't seen much of that show.

Regardless, I began to run my washcloth over her quads, the swept line of the sartorious, the powerful calves. She lifted her foot so I could clean her toes. I stood and moved behind her, lathering her back, my hot breath lost in the falling water. I also felt a heavy pulsing. My cock was reawakening. It began swelling as I moved past her bubble butt, panting as she bent forward to let me clean between the cheeks.

Even popping her ass up at me, she still managed to look dignified. I finished the backs of her legs and moved in front of her, sinking to my knees once more. I looked up and briefly made eye contact before I ran my tongue up her stomach, panting heavily as I licked her abs. My half-yard cock jutted out between her legs, pouring precum onto the floor as my melon-sized nuts touched the tiles.

I stared at her silky-shaven cunt and leaned in. I kissed the outer lips, slipping my tongue up into her, and—

"Hello? Where did everyone go?" called a voice.

"Shit," grunted Yara. She moved away from me. I licked my lips, still tasting her. I got to my feet.

A chubby middle-aged woman dressed in some kind of neon-and-black spandex suit from the 80s came around the corner and into the shower room. "Yara, are— Oh my god, what is going on here?!" she squeaked, turning bright red when she saw me.

"A special class. Who else is here?"

"Well, Petra, Milagros. The whole spin class is here? We've been waiting for about fifteen minutes." As she explained, the woman's eyes kept darting to me—particularly my pulsing cock. "I heard the showers going, and I came to check."

"Mrs. Allan. I'm sorry for the tardiness, but we were just getting done with a training session for Mr. Kanayama here," explained Yara. "To make up for it, why don't you inform the rest of the ladies that they can either ride the bikes, or Brod, here." She gave me that stern look. "Brod, you will be an exercise machine today. Is that clear?

I nodded. "I can handle it. How big is the class?"

"Eighteen."

"I might need some help, I'm pretty sore," I admitted.

"I'll help. It's my class, after all," said Yara, giving me a wink

Mrs. Allan took her wedding band off, pocketed it, and left the room.

"I think this is the start of a good working relationship," chuckled Yara, swatting my ass.

***

Sarkopheros Keeps Talking:

All comments are encouraged, be they criticism, compliments, or anything else! I reply to everything I can.

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Written by Sarkopheros

Copyright © Sarkopheros 2015. All rights reserved.

This story is a work of fiction and is intended solely for the entertainment of adults.