A Very Personal Trainer

John catches Szandi’s glance across the gym floor and a wicked grin slides over his face. He ambles up behind her at the squat rack, plants both palms on her chest and squeezes. She yelps, then smiles that wicked, dimpled smile that tells him yes. Her fingers dart under his shorts and wrap around his stiff length, pumping once, twice, before she drops to her knees and takes him into her mouth. The rubber mat squeaks as she slobbers and gulps, spit running down her chin. He hauls her up, spins her around, and drops onto the bench while she straddles him, shoves her workout shorts aside and sinks down in one slick motion. Szandi rides with short, greedy bounces, moaning loud enough to echo off the mirrors. Sweat and lust fill the air. That particular lift never felt better.