by K D Grace
‘But, I don’t have a proper workout partner,’ I say, trying not to grind my hips against his massaging hands.
He gives me that how-long-must-I-suffer-fools look and shakes his head. ‘Your body, I can do something about, Davis. But it’s up to you to exercise the muscle between your ears.’ He taps a finger against my temple, emphasising each word. ‘There’s just you and me. I’m your trainer and your workout partner. That’s what you pay me for.’
The light bulb finally comes on in my head, and my stomach manages half a flip-flop before the hand that has been massaging my abdominal muscles so expertly suddenly slides down until it nestles against my pubes. His thumb rakes my clit, causing me to offer up an undignified grunt. He knows he’s found the control switch, and, holy crap, does he know how to use it! The rough pad of his thumb circles and rakes, and circles and rakes my nib until it feels like a lead weight straining against his fingers.
He nods to the bench I’ve been coveting, never taking his steel-blue gaze off my face. The hand not circling and raking moves to cup and squeeze my tits in turn. Then he scooches me back, and back, and back, almost like he’s herding me with his thumb on my clit until I plop down on the bench.
He shakes his head. ‘The bench is not for sitting, Davis. Squat in front of it, and rest your elbows on it. This is a workout, remember? That’s right, now open your legs and lift until your weight’s on your elbows.’ All the while he continues to circle and rake my joy button, until I’m completely in his power, and I’ll do whatever he says, because the only other person who has touched my clit for ages is me.
‘Mm hm,’ he says, slipping his long index finger between my cunt lips and stroking. ‘Just as I suspected. You need some serious relief of a sexual nature, Davis, or we’re never gonna accomplish anything.’ He slides his finger up into my hole, and I swear I’ve had cocks in me that weren’t that thick. I go all ragdoll and limp, like he’s supporting me just on his finger, and I’m squeezing and gripping like nobody’s business.
‘Jesus, Davis! That’s one hard-gripping fanny you got there, and slick.’ He lets out a low whistle as he squeezes another sausage finger into my pout, and I’m wondering what the hell his cock’s gonna be like with fingers that size.
‘Put your feet on my shoulders,’ he orders. He doesn’t offer to help, and I figure that’s a part of the workout, all designed to make me look good in my bikini. When my weight is supported on his shoulders and my elbows, he goes exploring. Face first.
Even his tongue is well-muscled. And long. It’s almost like it’s not a part of him, the way it wriggles and squirms and eats at me, all hungry and animal-like. He holds my labia splayed wide with his thumbs while his tongue darts in and out of my hole, then laps and slurps and presses at my clit. Then he starts all over again. He does this until I’m out-of-my-mind hot, and he has me squirming and writhing and babbling like some porn star. Then he starts nursing on my clit like he’s a newborn who’s just found a tit full of milk.
And I come. Jesus, how I come! I’m bucking and bouncing, banging my elbow on the edge of the bench and howling like some banshee on heat.
Then he pulls away, all wet and slick with my pussy juices, and I hear his fly unzip as he brings out the big gun.
I scrabble and squirm for a good view of his very military cock standing at full attention. It’s as substantial and as pumped as he is. I feel a little twinge of fear at the size of him, but not for long, because my pussy’s pouty and anxious, greedy enough to swallow him down whole, and he knows it. He teases my lips wide open with one hand. With the other, he manoeuvres into position, then he shoves and grunts his way in, pushing my knees up against my tits in his efforts. Sweet Jesus, I have never been so totally and completely full of cock! As he begins to hump, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on.
He doesn’t support my arse with his hands. He makes me support my own weight, pressing up to meet him every time he thrusts into me. And the harder I press, the better the rub against my marbled clit.
‘Good girl,’ he breathes, reaching up to cup and knead my tits. ‘We get some of that pent-up energy of yours released and we’ll have you in shape in no time.’ He rakes my nipples to hard, raw points against his thumbs. Then he sucks me like he’s trying to suck me inside out. I bounce and squirm and buck all over the weight bench, digging my heels into his kidneys, riding Hawk Sturgis like he’s a bucking bronco and I’m a cowgirl.
I reckon he’s a master of timing. He suddenly stops playing with my tits, grabs onto my hips like he’ll crush bone, and jackhammers my cunt. He’s holding his breath, baring his teeth like an angry lion, and I’m hanging on for dear life, every muscle in my body trembling and twitching.
It’s like some kind of feral battle cry when he comes, rattling the mirrors on the wall and raising the hair on the back of my neck. I can feel his cock go into convulsions in my hard grip, and that’s enough to kick-start my own convulsions. And we come and come and come.
Even a hardened military man like Hawk Sturgis needs a little recovery time after all that coming. And when at last his pecs aren’t heaving like bellows, he speaks. ‘That’s a good start, Davis.’ He pulls away and tucks his cock back into the camouflage. Then, while he’s wiping my pussy with the workout towel, he lays a splayed hand low on my belly. ‘I reckon you’ll be sore tomorrow after your first day. Nothing to worry about. I know a few massage techniques that’ll work out the kinks.’ He offers me a serious look. ‘No pain, no gain.’
‘Permission to speak freely, sir,’ I say, watching him wipe and caress my pout.
‘What is it, Davis?’ He doesn’t look up. He seems totally focused on his efforts.
‘I know you said sex is a part of my training, but I’m wondering if –’
‘Damn right it’s a part of your training,’ he interrupts. ‘A very important part. But –’ he heaves a chest-expanding sigh. ‘Man’s gotta have some compensation, doesn’t he? You don’t work for free, do you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You got a problem with that?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good.’ He offers me a smile that makes him look much less GI Joe, much more pussy-creaming hottie. ‘Don’t worry, Davis. You’ll toughen up just fine. And come summer holidays, well, I reckon you’ll heat up the beach to boiling point in your new bikini. Tomorrow we’ll do some squats and work your legs and glutes.’
Same time?’
He nods. ‘We’ll start with a run from your flat. But if you’re too sore, we might start with sex instead to loosen you up.’
Suddenly getting up at five doesn’t seem so bad.
We hear a key turn in the lock, and the lights in the outer hall switch on. I’m scrambling back into my clothes and Hawk Sturgis is watching me like he’s dreaming up his next torture session. But I don’t care. If he makes me come this good after every workout, I’m more than willing to honour the terms and conditions of the contingency plan, and I may just return my more modest bikini for a thong after all.
As we step out of the gym into the anaemic daylight that has appeared while we were occupied inside, he slips an arm around me and nods in the direction of my flat. ‘We won’t run back this morning, since you’re just getting started and all. I can tell by the way you move you’re feeling a bit tender.’ He slides a hand down my back to cup my arse and give it a gentle knead. ‘In fact, I think once we get back to your flat, I’ll see if I can’t loosen up some of those muscles for you so you won’t be so sore tomorrow.’
In a peripheral glance, I can’t help noticing the camouflage front of his trousers is struggling for containment. And I’m willing to bet the slight swagger in his step has nothing to do with the hard workout or the heavy boots. Come to think of it, I’m sure I haven’t worked off my debt for the day yet, and that thought makes my pussy quiver right along with all the other muscles that are quivering and trembling from their first real workout in a long time. Suddenly, I’m very much looking forward to getting in go
od shape. After all, my body is my temple. It’s serious business keeping it fit and healthy.
Accidental Hitchhiker
‘I’m lucky it got me this far,’ Liz said, squinting through the driving rain at the Ford Escort now dead by the side of the road.
The lorry driver looked like some strange phantom in his over-sized rain poncho with the hood swallowing up his face. He slammed the bonnet shut and turned to her. ‘You’ve got a hole in your radiator,’ he shouted above the wind. ‘You’re not going anywhere tonight.’ He nodded to his truck, which sat idling behind her deceased car, bathing both of them in a wet halo of incandescent light. ‘You’re soaked. Get in the truck and get warm.’
In spite of the horror stories she had heard about people hitchhiking in America, Liz grabbed what she needed from the car and followed him back to the truck. She wasn’t really hitchhiking, she reminded herself; she simply didn’t have other options.
She climbed in the passenger side and sat shivering, relishing the warmth of the humming heater. The unfamiliar twang of country music played softly on the radio. She jumped as he opened his door, stripping off the poncho and giving it a shake before he crawled into the cab.
What had been hidden beneath the poncho was not the stereotypical American trucker she had expected. He ran a hand through damp auburn hair in need of a cut. It hung in unruly curls around the soft stubble on his face. There was no beer belly, no good-ole-boy tattoos, no missing teeth. He wore a faded T-shirt stretched over his chest. His eyes seemed black in the dim light. His lips were full and sensuous, incongruous with the thin, pale scar running low along his right jawbone, making him look a bit dangerous. The overall effect made her pulse race, and the feeling low in her belly was like the deep vibration of the lorry motor, only inside her.
‘Can’t I call roadside assistance?’ she asked between chattering teeth.
He offered a sympathetic smile. ‘Not in the middle of bumfuck South Dakota you can’t, at least not tonight.’
Suddenly she was fighting back tears. She was tired, on her own, and stranded a long way from home.
‘There’s a rest area 20 miles up the road. I need a break anyway.’ For the first time she became aware of his lack of accent. She was relieved. Some of the more provincial American accents were hard to understand when she was tired. He nodded to the curtained sleeping berth in the back of the cab. ‘You can sleep there.’ He offered her another smile, reassuring this time. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sleep in the seat. Things’ll look brighter in the morning, you’ll see.’
With a groan of the engine, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.
‘You’re English?’ He handed her a battered leather jacket, which she gratefully slipped into, engulfing herself in the sharp scent of maleness, which only served to amplify the tingle below her belly.
‘Yes. From Bristol.’
‘What brings you to South Dakota?’
‘The Black Hills, of course, and who could resist Mount Rushmore?’
He grunted. ‘Most Americans, actually. In fact I’d wager most don’t even know where it’s at.’
‘I’ve always fancied a road trip across America,’ she said, ‘so I saved my money, took some time off, and here I am.’
‘Here you are. You’re adventurous to take such a trip by yourself.’
She thought of Mark, of how they had planned and schemed and dreamed this trip together. Until she caught him in her bed fucking her flatmate. Her chest tightened, and she pushed the memory away. ‘It was either by myself or not at all.’
He nodded approvingly and turned up the heater. ‘Travelling alone’s not a bad thing. It’s been good for me.’ They lapsed into companionable silence punctuated by the slap slap of the wiper blades and non-stop country hits on the radio.
At the rest stop, he parked the truck. ‘Come on.’ He motioned to the berth. ‘I’ll show you around.’
A frisson of fear passed through the pit of her stomach as she watched him disappear up over the seat behind the curtains. That was quickly tempered by the view of his bum, which nicely filled out his jeans. She followed him over the seat, feeling suddenly, strangely naughty.
He switched on a muted overhead light, and she found herself on a large mattress covered in a dark blue duvet.
‘Home sweet home,’ he said.
She sniffed and sighed. The smelled of clean laundry didn’t quite mask the scent of dream-filled sleep, body heat, and the cocktail of male pheromones that made her want. She fought back the urge to bury her face in his pillow, to wrap herself in his sheets, to cover herself in his tantalizing scent. ‘It’s so tidy,’ she breathed.
‘I spend a lot of time back here, so I like it to be neat, you know, a well-ordered personal space and all.’ He nodded to the bed. ‘The guest room’s ready.’
As she slipped out of the jacket, for the briefest of seconds his eyes lingered on her nipples, fully erect beneath her wet vest and aching from the chill. She had worn no bra because it made her feel sexy to drive down the wide expanses of American highway with her tits free. There hadn’t been nearly enough feeling sexy since her break-up with Mark, so she did what she could. She didn’t wear panties either. She had discovered she could masturbate while driving down the interstate and no one ever suspected.
‘You’re so wet,’ he said.
Wetter than he knew, she suddenly realised.
‘You’re shivering. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and under the blankets. How long were you standing out in the rain before I …?’ He stopped mid-sentence as she slipped the vest over her head and reached her arms out to him.
‘I’m so cold,’ she whispered, inwardly shocked that she would be so bold. Was it just being so far from home, feeling so alone, or was this her way of getting even with Mark? At the moment she didn’t care.
Without hesitation, he slipped his own shirt off and pulled her close. ‘Body heat’s the best way to warm up,’ he said.
She felt his intake of breath as her cold breasts pressed against his chest, and his arms encircled her in warmth. ‘Your skirt, get out of it, and get under the covers.’ As he shimmied it down over her hips, his gaze came to rest on her clean-shaven mound where her knickers would have been, had she been wearing any, and he brushed rough fingertips over her smoothness. ‘Typical English?’ he asked with a soft chuckle.
She lifted her hips for a closer brush with his palm. ‘Typical me,’ she replied, noticing the bulge now distorting the front of his jeans.
When she was naked, he nestled her down next to him and pulled the duvet over them. He smelled of clean perspiration and maleness that reminded her body just how long it had been since she’d had a good shag.
She fumbled with his zipper. ‘I need more body heat,’ she whispered against his throat.
As he reached down to help her with his fly, she ran a hand inside his waist band to cup his arse cheeks, feeling them clench and tighten with her caress, as he wriggled his jeans off over his bum.
‘No underpants? Is that typical American?’
‘Typical me,’ he said.
She felt his erection, now free from restraint, bounce against her cold tummy.
He gasped. ‘You’re like ice.’
‘Then give me more body heat,’ she demanded.
He took her mouth, teasing her lips apart and caressing her tongue with his until she was breathless.
Then he pulled away slightly and cupped her left breast with a large, calloused hand. ‘How about I start here?’ He kneaded her like she was bread dough and he was about to bake something delicious. His thumbs circled and pressed her nipples, then circled and pressed again until they felt mountainous atop her breasts, still stippled with goose flesh. Then he trailed kisses over her collar bone and lowered his mouth to bathe her tits in his hot breath as he suckled.
With one knee, he forced her legs apart and positioned himself so the bend of his leg pressed deliciously to her pout. The soft hair on his leg tickled and ru
bbed against her smoothness. As she rocked against him, she could feel her juices soaking his thigh.
‘You’re definitely not cold down there,’ he breathed.
‘Wet, though.’
He kissed and nibbled his way down her belly, hot mouth against cold flesh like little fires igniting all over her body. ‘I’ve never kissed a shaved pussy before,’ he whispered. His breath was hot against her split.
Anxious for him to continue his explorations, she reached down and opened her swollen lips with two fingers, but he pushed her hand away. ‘Not just yet. Be patient. We’ve got all night.’
He ignored her groans of frustration and slid his hands beneath her, cupping her arse cheeks, drawing her closer to the fire of his mouth. But instead of exploring her slit, he licked and nibbled her bare mound, pressing hard against her pubis as he did so. His efforts created exquisite pressure on everything low inside her that ached to be filled.
She rocked and butted her pubis against his face, trying to ease her body up just enough that his tongue would find its way down to where her clit marbled and forced back its hood. But he would not be rushed. She felt the heat of his breath as he chuckled against her, making her whimper as he nipped and sucked the smooth flesh just above her slit.
‘You’re all fire and ice, English. I hardly know which to attend to first.’
‘Please,’ she gasped her frustration. ‘Please lick me, down there. I need …’ There seemed to be a lack of oxygen in the truck. ‘I need …’
Again, a soft, but definitely wicked, chuckle. ‘I know what you need.’ He rotated his hands on her bottom, bringing his thumbs up around her anus to open her pussy from beneath, spreading her until he could see every heavy fold and slickened splay of her.
