Pulled Muscle

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Stella's trainer gives her a different workout.
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I blame it all on my husband. Well I would. It's easier than blaming my own weakness. I guess I will leave you to judge.

It all began months earlier. I had decided not to slide into decline just because I was sliding into middle age. I admit, I had let things go in recent years, a few wrinkles here a few extra pounds there. Then I woke up one day and realised I was on a slippery slope and would need to work hard to maintain my current footing. Any hope of climbing back any higher were beyond my purse strings and my principles.

I am a firm believer that just because women can look 30 years younger, doesn't mean they ought to. Maybe I'm wrong, but if I was a fella and was behind a female with shapely pins in a pair of Daisy Dukes, with long wavy blonde tresses, who then turns around to reveal a face like a Terrahawk? (Google it if you're too young to know, do I have to explain everything?)... well that's just wrong.

That doesn't mean we should get lazy and just not bother trying to make the best of what the Fates gave us. With this in mind I finally I decided to do something about my own terminal decline.

So, I began by seeking an anti-wrinkle cream. Just how the fuck does a body go about choosing one of these products? I mean the shelves are literally heaving with them. They range from hideously expensive to 'I need to re-mortgage the house to save my face.' Good grief, working the monthly costs it probably is cheaper to go under the knife.

I eventually just picked up a jar of vanishing cream, wiped it on and hoped that the last 20 years of experience would vanish from my face. Well, not really, just that they would maybe 'soft focus' a bit.

After realising I can't afford what it would cost to look 20 years younger, I decided to at least try and get my body back into shape. Well it was a shape already; the kind of shape my grandson makes with Play Doh. I wanted to see my feet again without having to bend. I wanted to reacquaint myself with my waistline. And I didn't so much have bingo wings as flying fox arms. Anyhoo, the gym near me had been doing a promotion, so I trotted along and signed up.

I am a tenacious little bugger, and once I had set my mind to getting fit and back in shape, I worked hard at it. I turned up four times a week in the early mornings, did a mixture of cardio and free weights and rounded off with a swim. I was dedicated, and beginning to see results, I was even able to start buying clothes out of regular shops. Of course, there you run the risk of becoming 'mutton dressed as lamb' as my grandma used to sniff. In other words, dressing way younger than your dignity ought to allow!

Not that I was too worried about that. However much weight I lost, I would have thighs like cold porridge and knees like an elephant's bollocks - so I wasn't about to stock up on Daisy Dukes to distress horny but innocent bystanders.

I did invest in some Lycra for the gym, though I still wore my ratty old tee shirt over it and my trainers were not so much designer distressed as just - distressed. (Practically suicidal actually, I wasn't sure how much longer they would keep body and sole together)

I hit something of a hiatus though, not losing any weight or feeling any fitter even though I was still going 4 times a week so I was finding it difficult to motivate myself. Having mentioned just that, and bemoaning the fact I didn't have a woman friend to exercise with, hubby surprised me on my birthday with a tub of anti-wrinkle cream, (the expensive stuff, not the vanishing cream.) some new undies, that looked a bit sexy and something I might actually wear; and ten sessions with my very own personal trainer!

Okay so hubby was hiding behind the door when they were handing out imagination, but his heart is in the right place, (I saw the scans) and I must admit, I was a little excited about having a trainer. She could show me how to increase my exercises, building up reps and weights, help me with an eating plan, teach me how to use some of the machines, (I had fought shy of the stuff that resembled BDSM equipment) and make sure I was maintaining the correct posture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, my first appointment with Sam is for a wet and miserable Monday evening. I'm not really looking forward to it, as it is after a long day at work, and from what I gather involves her using callipers to measure my body fat, weighing me (At the end of the day and fully clothed girls, how unfair is that?) and asking all sorts of personal questions that I will never be alert enough to lie about.

It gets worse. A whole world worse. Imagine the humiliation of a perky blonde twenty-something, to whom cellulite and droopy boobs were anathemic. Now imagine the blond twentysomething being hot and cute and very, very male! What made me assume Sam was short for Samantha?? Do I have some sort of mental short circuit that allows for complete self-humiliation?

Give him his due, Sam is very professional and clinical, makes lots of notes and schedules our first workout for the following evening. I must look as disappointed as I feel. "Unless of course you have time and want to make a start tonight? I have no one else booked?"

I grin. "I would, if that's okay? I just kind of worked myself up to thinking I would be starting today."

"Keen huh? No worries. I might as well capitalise on that, who knows when you will begin to hate me." His easy grin sets off an echo in me. Yup I quite possible will hate, loathe and detest him at some point in the future. Though I very much doubt I would get tired of looking at that gorgeous tight bum.

He gentles me into an easy jog, circuiting the gym, shouting encouragement as he sets out an assortment of equipment on the floor.

After five minutes, he calls me to him and reaches for my hand. A little forward I think, until I realise he is checking my pulse against the second hand of the wall clock. I must still be alive because he begins to explain the equipment to me, and how I will work my way around it, sprinting from one to the next and doing a set of reps on each. He will be timing me.

"Okay Stella. Ready, Go!" He clicks his stop watch and follows me from piece to piece giving encouragement and shouting at me to sprint faster. My legs are getting heavier by the second, my lungs have shrunk in size but are doubling up as a smithy's bellows and burning a hole through my ribs. And I am in serious danger of vomiting all over Sam's expensive trainers.

"Time." Shouts Sam. "No, get up. You can't just suddenly stop! I want you walking it off until I say so." Walking? Oh, yes, that thing where you put one foot in front of the other, I remember how to do that I think. I manage to lift each foot in turn and perambulate around as Sam seeks further torture for me. I look at the clock. We are ten minutes into our half hour session. I might die tonight, and I haven't gotten around to writing my will.

Next Sam has me doing crunches and something he calls Russian twists. Another reason to hate the Ruskies. Then he gets me to do burpees. Innocuous sounding eh? Yeah, right. He shows me. Looks easy enough, a jump and a squat thingy. Yeah right. Wrong! My lungs are going like the clappers again, my legs have turned from lead to cooked spaghetti, and I am now in serious danger of cardiac arrest.

"Squats."

I know technically how to do squats. I just didn't know if I am physically capable of ever standing back up if I dip down into one. But, the tenacious bugger in me grits her teeth and goes for it. Catching sight of my face in the mirror I begin to feel concerned for the purple faced geriatric as she dips frequently out of sight.

Next, I am given a gym ball to sit on. Ooookkaaaay, I can sit. I learned that at six months. Then I'm told to kneel. No, kneel on the ball.

"You know you said I would hate you?" I grumble.

"Doesn't take long does it?" he grins at me. Sadistic bastard.

The plank sounds nice. Imitating a lump of wood is easy in my current condition -practically comatose - But no. I hold my weight on the only bony part of my otherwise fleshy body, the tender skin of my elbows screaming mere seconds into the pose.

"Don't arch, you need to keep level."

I almost squawk as Sam's hands bracket my body front and back holding my jiggly belly and my bum. He is in no hurry to let go as he uses the supporting hand to slide around showing me the core muscles I will learn to build up. His hand ends up even lower down, with his little finger spreading across my mound.

I know that he is completely unaware that he is practically feeling me up, and is giving me the most sexual experience I have had in months.

"You're doing great Stella, I love an enthusiastic partner."

Poor child has no idea the perverted visions clamouring for attention in my dirty mind.

"Okay, that's it for this session Stella, relax now." He slaps my arse with a crack that resounds around the now empty gym. If I had the energy I would yell.

"Oops sorry Stella, didn't mean to catch you so sharp there" Sam soothes his hand over my throbbing cheeks and as the sting eases, another sensation takes over. I squeeze my legs together and wonder briefly whether the shower heads are fixed.

He hunkers down in front of me, sparky and bright eyed. I have never felt so driven to kill another human being.

"Well, how do you feel after that session, Stella?"

I glower at him. "Homicidal, is the first word that springs to mind."

He throws his head back and laughs. Holding his hand out, he helps me to my feet, and supports me as I sway slightly. "You okay?"

"Honky- fucking - dory Sam. Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure thing Sexy Stella." He gives my arse another cracking slap and saunters off. I am sure there is a no touch policy here. I am also damply happy that Sam doesn't feel the need to adhere to it.

The shower heads in the ladies' locker room are fixed, which is probably as well, considering the showers are also communal. I squirm on the bus all the way home, and decide that the next time I will bring my car. At least I will be able to frig myself on the drive.

Not that the bus driver would have minded, from the look he gave me as I climbed aboard. I guess I forget I am quite a few pounds lighter than I used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I didn't frighten you off then Stella?" Sam's smile almost appears a little insecure. I guess he needs the income, which he would lose if I decided to change to a different trainer. He can relax. I like him. He is irreverent enough for me. I hate youngsters who call me ma'am or Mrs. I don't want to be treated like I have no idea what an orgasm is, or a reefer, or Instagram. I might be over fifty (Just!), but I am not desiccated.

"Relax Sam, you are stuck with me for the duration, you'll get your wages." His face seems to drop a little.

"Stell, I won't lie, I do need money for those annoying little things like food and a roof, but I was looking forward to our session tonight for your company, not your purse."

I could almost believe him. Until he turns back into the sadistic little shit that makes me feel like I have been through a mangle. It is getting to the end of our session, I hope, and Sam is squatting in front of me holding my ankles down as I do sit ups.

"Higher Stella, come on you're doing great."

"Great?" I huff. "The last time I sweated like this, at least there was an orgasm at the end of it!" My eyes suddenly widen as I realise who I am talking to. Sam's jaw had dropped before snapping shut. Then he grins at me wolfishly. "That can always be arranged Stella."

Oh fuck, the look on his face as he says that I almost cream there and then! I gulp. Is he offering extras? I have no idea how to answer him.

He obviously sees my confusion. "Relax Stella, I was joking."

I'm almost disappointed. It's been a long time since my husband gave me a look like that. Longer still since he followed up on it.

"That's okay then Sam. It's been so long I wouldn't know what to do with you."

He is hauling me to my feet as I speak, and his enthusiastic tug pulls me into his body, where, if I am not mistaken he is nurturing a very impressive hard on. Instead of distancing himself, Sam pulls me into his groin.

"I'm sure I could refresh your memory Stell, if you wanted me to." There is absolutely no mistaking his intent this time.

Once again tonight, we are alone - Sam having claimed one of the smaller fitness rooms for our use. I tilt my head to look at him.

"What would a gorgeous young man like you want with an old fart like me Sam?" I want to push him away, but for the second night in a row I am having more sex than I have in months. And I will frig to this memory on the way home, so I want to make the most of it.

"For one thing Stell, you are not so old, and I am probably not as young as you think I am. For another, I happen to like my women with a little more maturity. For another, have you any idea how fuckin sexy you look when you bend over?" He groans as he slowly rotates his cock against me.

"And now I guess I am sacked and facing a sexual assault charge?" He dips his head to meet my eyes. I can see the pleading in there. Is he begging me to not make a complaint? Or is he asking me to want him too? I lift a shaky hand to his chest, sliding it up to cup his neck.

It is all the permission he needs as he drops his mouth to engulf mine in a kiss that knocks the spots off any I have had before.

"Jesus Sam, if you fuck like you kiss I might never let you leave this room."

He laughs as he peels his tee shirt off.

"I've never had any complaints Stell, but then, I am pretty choosy. Come here." He takes my hand and leads me to the back of the room. Throwing open a cupboard door he drags out a pile of workout mats. He spins me round and as I lose my balance he lets me fall onto the soft mound.

Even as I land he is tugging his sweats down and tipping off his trainers. I am looking at a very impressive seven-inch cock, the first shaved dick of my experience.

"Get naked Stell. Now." He stands over me a brow raised, waiting. I guess he needs me to prove my compliance. My grotty tee flies off. The Lycra takes a little more of a tussle and Sam takes pity on me, drawing my leggings and panties off. Staying in position, he spreads my legs, and stares.

I don't shave, but I do trim, so I know it is not a complete jungle down there, but his are the first stranger's eyes to see my vagina in thirty years. My husband probably hasn't had a close-up in twenty and my gynaecologist doesn't judge.

I squirm in embarrassment. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing Stell, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. It is beautiful." Before I can stop him, Sam lunges forward and swipes a tongue from my ass-crack to my clit.

"Euw, Sam, I am all sweaty and nasty. You don't need to do that. Fuck, even my husband rarely ever did that. Unless he wanted reciprocal."

It suddenly dawns on me. "Oh, don't worry Sam, I will happily go down on you, you really don't need to feel obliged...Aaaaagghh!" I have no idea what the fuck he is doing down there but I hope he never stops.

Fingers are fighting into my channel, his tongue is doing something that I am sure is illegal in most states and his thumb is rasping across my clit. His other hand is tweaking a nipple to a painful peak and I can feel an orgasm beginning to rise. He has moved again, now one of his fingers is reaming my back passage ruthlessly, an unexpected but not exactly unpleasant feeling. His mouth now has claimed my clit and is drawing it into a vacuum. He is palming my breast roughly and I can feel my hips surging rhythmically off the mat.

"I'm going to come Sam! Christ I'm going to come!" He lifts a feral face to meet my eyes before returning to his feast. Seconds later the first pulses surge through me and I begin to cry out. He won't stop, he holds me down as he relentlessly chews on my muff, his finger pistoning in and out of my rectum. Finally, he eases away, his face slick with my juices. He manages to lift my leg over his shoulder without removing his finger from my ass.

"I'm clean Stell, you covered?"

"Yes, oh Sam fuck me please." I have no thoughts of my marriage, the age gap, the relatively public nature of the room. All I want is that this firm young cock pounding into me. He grins.

"Come to daddy." He lunges up my body to take my mouth, smearing my own juices around my face, filling my senses with my aroma and taste. His dick is nudging my labia, and I reach down to guide him home.

It has been a long time, and as Sam's impressive cock begins to force its way up my narrow channel, I can see the tendons standing out on his neck.

"Fuck Stell, you sure you're not a virgin? I've fucked asses slacker than this pussy." He grins at me as he inches further in, dipping his head to draw a nipple into his mouth and sucking it like he just did my clit. He still somehow has his finger up my ass and the multiple sensations are driving me towards another cliff. Now firmly seated, Sam begins to draw back before thrusting his hips back in.

"Oh yeah, fuck yeah. Oh, momma, you feel good" As my juices slicken his rod he speeds up. He finally removes his finger from my ass to hold my hips in both his huge hands.

His eyes glitter as he gazes lustfully at me. "Hold on Stell, it's gonna be a wild ride." He drops his head back to my tits, his mouth blindly seeking and finding a nipple as he begins to ruthlessly pound into me. I can feel every millimetre of his length as I sheath him.

His powerful body is moving us further up the mat with every thrust until he reaches instead to hold me under my shoulders. I am tight against him now and every time he hits me deep I can feel his dick battering me. My second climax, one more than I have ever had before during a single sex session is making my teeth tingle as it approaches with the speed of an express train. I drop my head back and yell out as I clamp around Sam's dick, slowing his tempo. Before I have stopped shuddering he is withdrawing and I am bereft, until I find myself flipped like an egg over easy, and my back being lifted at the hips.

I immediately catch on and draw my knees up until I am on all fours. Without preamble Sam's cock surges back into my clutch, and the climax that had begun to peter out was back with a vengeance.

The force of Sam's fucking pushes my head down and I am sucking mat when I feel his finger return to my ass. In this position I can feel the press of his finger against his dick through the thin membrane. I began to scream as another orgasm takes over and as I collapse I hear Sam's strangled cries as he joins me.

I have no idea how long we lay there panting, my core would pulse and then his dick would twitch as if someone was sending a low level electric current through us. Easing his finger from my backside sends further spasms shuddering through us both.

I can feel Sam kissing down my back as he eases himself from my body to fall alongside me. I turn my head to face him.

"Now that kind of workout I can really get into." I grin. My eyes widen as he drops his head to start nudging a breast.

"Stella baby, that was just the warm up..."

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AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Fantastic!

Great writing and I must have laughed out loud 6 times! Loved the humor!!

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Hot Hawt Hot!

Love the character commentary and dialogue, very hot buildup!

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