I'm going to be traveling this weekend to see family, so there is a good chance that I won't be able to post anything Sunday or Monday. I promise Tuesday's update will be well worth the wait, however. Plus, you can always follow me on Twitter to get frequent updates. This post is a memory partially sparked by a conversation I had on Twitter about claiming to be a virgin when one is not. Enjoy.
At the end of my Junior year of high school I was at peak physical condition from swimming anywhere from 3-4 hours a day, every day. But I still wanted to do more to get better. So my coach helped me get set up with a personal trainer who I would see from the end of my Junior year until right before I went to college. He worked a semi-freelance gig at a local gym where he got to work out for free as long as he only trained people in that gym. So I joined up and got in the best shape of my life. And of course, I'm telling this story because I got some dick action too.
Anyone who has had a personal trainer knows that all the good ones are going to get right up close to you and know your body inside and out. Mine was no exception. The first day I met him, he measured me, tested my endurace, strength, and flexibility, and then took me into the locker room where there was a scale to weigh me. I stripped down to just the spandex shorts I wear under my workout gear and he looked me over on the scale. "Not bad," he said, "But we definitely need to work your strength training hard." It was true, I was pretty scrawny back then.
But what he said that really made me laugh (and I will always remember it) was, "You don't know how to engage your hamstrings. You do too much with your ass." At the time I had been doing a lot with my ass, so it was a very ironic statement.
From that first day, I met with my trainer regularly to work out twice a week. Because of our schedules we could only meet either very early (5am) or very late (10pm) but we always got a good workout in. He had a great body, and he would wear those sweat pants basketball players wear that have the snaps on the side, sometimes with a jock as the only thing under them. If we were doing squats side-by-side I would always peak into the holes and get a nice look at what was inside.
By the time I started my senior year of high school, we were more workout buddies than trainer and trainee. Don't get me wrong, I disliked him on a lot of levels, and he knew that and channeled my anger into my workout, but I really liked him as a partner in the gym. Like I said, this was the best shape I have EVER been in. As we became closer, our late at night sessions started going later and later until we were basically closing the place. As a psudo-employee, my trainer got to stay late, and I got grandfathered into that privaledge because the owner liked me and was related to a friend of mine. (Hear that, people? Good connections really do help.)
When we stayed that late, he and I both wound up showering at the same time. Now, his body was not the standard hollywood muscle god, but he was built strong and could not have had an ounce of body fat on him. I was quickly getting to a similar place, though I did not have the pure years of work in my body that he had put into his.
One day in the showers, as we were joking around and getting rid of a lot of sweat, he looked me up and down and said, "Man, your thighs are getting huge! You're going to be so ripped soon!" This isn't really a strange thing to say to a workout partner, so I gave him a similar compliment. Before he had said things like, "Man, you're getting too big for your jeans," or "You've gotten so much stronger," so I didn't think too much about it. This time though, he bent down and felt my thighs up. I felt a little uncomfortable, mostly because I had placed him squarely in the friend zone at this point, but I figured he knew what he was doing. "They're really tight though," he said, "We should get you doing some yoga."
Soon after I was coming to the gym on Saturdays after my morning swim and he and I were doing yoga. At first I found it hard to flex at all, especially in the uncomfortably tight briefs I wore. Normally they weren't an issue, but when you're doing a split, you don't want that digging into your balls. My trainer advised me to buy, believe it or not, a thong to help with that. It was actually a dancebelt, like what ballet dancers wear, but you get the idea. I had worn thongs before, especially over at Paul's house, but I didn't know anyone else who did. The dancebelt did help my flexability, but by then I had started catching his vibes and I wondered if he didn't just want to see me change into a thong.
It was after one of our late night sessions that he finally made his move. After months I guess he figured he should just go for it. We were in the shower, and he was feeling my muscle growth again, when his hand slid down to my ass cheeks. He didn't even pretend to still be looking me over, he just looked me right in the eyes. I could tell that he was trying to see if I was ok with what he was doing or not. I had a split second to decide my next move.
I smiled at him briefly and then looked away, as if embarrassed by his touch. He quickly apologized, but I told him it was ok. "I'm just not used to being touched like that." Yes. I lied to him. He told me not to be ashamed, that it was ok, and I simply smiled shyly again. I was playing the virgin for him, but that made him want me all the more. He was rubbing my whole body with both hands, and he had developed quite the hard on.
He pressed me up against the wall of the shower area and began feeling up my ass, especially my hole. "Has anyone ever touched you here before?" he asked. I told him no. He began to work his fingers into me, and I worried that I would be loose and give myself away, but he never said anything other than words of praise. Well, he did say something to the effect of, "I shouldn't do this. You're so young." I was seventeen though, and I don't think either of us really cared.
He had put his whole cock head in before he spoke up and said, "I don't have a condom with me, is that ok." I simply turned innocently back to him and said, "That's ok. I trust you." He pushed deeply in me after that.
I don't remember it being a particularly spectacular fuck. It was quick and after he shot his load we went back to being just workout buds in the shower. I don't even remember if I shot my load at all. We didn't fuck around too much after that either. It was maybe a once a month thing. I think his wife was holding out at home because of their two girls reaching the age where they wouldn't sleep through sex. So he would get worked up and fuck me. He asked me once if anyone else touched me like he did, and I told him no. I figured it was best to keep the illusion going for him.
When we parted before I went to college it wasn't a huge deal. Like I said, I did hate him in some ways. But my times with him are the only times I've ever gotten fucked or shot a load in a locker room, which is something I do miss.