From Dakota’s journal
My Personal Trainer Kept Me After Hours
He told me to hold the stretch while he stood behind me with his hands on my hips, and when I arched back into him I could feel exactly how hard he was. The workout was over, but he was nowhere near done with me.

Okay so I did something kind of crazy a couple months ago and joined this gym because I wanted to tone up for summer, and the girl at the front desk talked me into a package of personal training sessions. The trainer they paired me with is the entire reason I kept showing up even though my legs felt like they were going to fall off. His name is Marcus, and he is this big broad wall of a man with veins running down his forearms that I absolutely cannot stop staring at, and he has this deep calm voice that makes every single thing sound like an order. For a girl like me, that is extremely dangerous.
I had been going twice a week for about a month, and I will be honest, I started dressing cuter for the gym. Tight leggings, little sports bras, hair done. I told myself it was for motivation but really it was for him, because the way his eyes would flick down my body when he thought I wasn't looking made me feel all fluttery and hot. He was always professional though. Always. Hands off, eyes mostly respectful, counting my reps while I tried not to stare at his chest.
Then last week I booked the last session of the day, and I got there a little late because of traffic, so by the time we finished our workout the gym was basically empty. The front desk girl had left, the lights were half off, and it was just us with the hum of the machines. He said we still needed to stretch, so he had me get down on the mat for cool-down stretches, and that is where everything changed.
He was guiding me through this deep hip stretch, kneeling behind me with his big hands on my hips to keep me steady, telling me to breathe and sink deeper into it. I was on all fours on the mat in my tight leggings with my ass up, and I could feel his body heat behind me, and I did the most bratty little thing without even thinking. I arched my back deeper and pressed back into him, just a little, just enough. And I felt it. He was hard. Really hard, pressing right against me through his shorts, and his hands tightened on my hips so hard I gasped.
Neither of us said anything for a second. Then he stood up abruptly and walked to the front of the gym, and my stomach dropped because I thought I had ruined everything. But he wasn't leaving. He flipped the lock on the front door and turned the sign around, and when he walked back to me his eyes were dark in a way I had never seen. He held out his hand and pulled me up off the mat, and I was shaking, because I knew exactly what was about to happen and I wanted it so badly I could barely breathe.
He sat down on the weight bench and pulled me to stand between his knees, and he looked up at me for a long second before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my leggings and dragged them down along with my underwear. I stepped out of them feeling so exposed standing there in just my sports bra with the empty gym around us, and he just stared at my pussy for a moment before he pulled me closer and buried his face between my legs. He licked me slow and deep right there, holding my hips steady while my knees shook, his tongue working my clit in these firm circles that had me whimpering within a minute. I came so fast it was almost embarrassing, crying out in the empty gym with my hands buried in his hair.
But he wasn't done. He stood up and stripped off his shirt, and oh my god, he looked even better than I had imagined, all broad chest and cut lines, and when he pushed his shorts down his cock sprang free, thick and long and already leaking. I dropped to my knees on the rubber gym floor without him even asking and took him in my mouth. I sucked him deep and eager, swirling my tongue around the thick head, taking him down my throat while he groaned and wove his fingers into my ponytail. I loved being on my knees for him like that, being his good girl, and he kept telling me how perfect my mouth felt in that deep voice that made me even wetter.
Then he pulled me up and bent me over the weight bench, face down with my ass in the air, and he ran his big hand down my spine before he pushed into me from behind in one long deep stroke. I cried out because he stretched me so perfectly full, and he started moving in me with these slow powerful thrusts, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. The bench creaked under us and the whole empty gym echoed with the sounds of him fucking me, my little whimpers and the slick wet sounds of how soaked I was for him. He reached around and rubbed my clit with his thick fingers while he pounded into me, and I came again so hard I saw white, clenching around his big cock and shaking all over the bench.
He flipped me onto my back on the mat then, pushed my knees up to my chest, and drove into me deep and fast, staring down into my eyes while he fucked me harder. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, begging him not to stop in this breathy little voice I barely recognized. He came with this deep groan, pulsing inside me, and I came right with him, my whole body tightening around him while I cried out his name into the empty gym.
We just laid there on the mat after, sweaty and tangled, and he brushed my hair back and held me for a while like he didn't want to let go. I got dressed all shaky and giggly, and he walked me to my car like a gentleman even though we both knew we were anything but.
I already booked him for twice a week now instead of once, and I am sore in the absolute best way as I write this. Every time I do a hip stretch I think about his hands on my hips and the way he felt behind me, and I get wet all over again. I don't think I'll ever be able to do a cool-down the same way, and honestly, I don't want to.
A little closer?
Call 314-649-3292 and ask for Dakota. You can text first if you prefer. Have your card ready when you call.

