Author's note: The character of Jill is based on a personal trainer with whom I worked once. That is, Jill looks like the trainer. The activities described in this story are completely fictional.
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One thing was clear; I had to get into shape. I had been working out pretty regularly at the gym, but then the covid pandemic hit, and the gym closed down. Even after it reopened, I had trouble getting back into an exercise routine. First, I was very careful about the virus, and I didn't rush back to the gym as soon as it reopened. Mainly, I had got into a new pattern of behavior and activities, centered around my computer, and it was hard to change that new pattern. Also, I have to recognize, I was older than I had been before the pandemic, and every year takes its toll.
Even after I renewed my gym membership, I easily found excuses not to go there, and, even when I went to the gym, I didn't have a good program going. I did a few reps of this exercise, a few on that machine, spent a little time on the treadmill, etc., but I really didn't sense that I was getting anywhere. I requested a personal trainer, and I was assigned to a tall woman, seemingly 5-10 years younger than I was, slender but appropriately toned, as a trainer should be, with moderate curves in the right places, and blond hair tied into a pony tail.
"Hi, I'm Jill," she said, extending her hand to shake mine.
"I'm Jerry," I replied, and then I told her my exercise history and my goals.
Jill assigned me a set of exercises which would reveal the strength and flexibility of different body areas, and also my balance. "Well, we have a lot of work to do," Jill said, "but it should be fun."
"Since it looks like we are going to be working together for a long time," I said to Jill, "Maybe we should get to know each other better." It was an unsubtle pickup line and a long shot, but I was still at loose ends after my divorce, and I noticed that Jill was not wearing a ring.
"OK," she replied, and we agreed to meet for coffee after her last training appointment of the afternoon. I was waiting at the coffee shop when Jill appeared, wearing a short white skirt and a pale green top. We got our coffees and some pastry and told one another some things about ourselves. I did statistical analysis for one of the larger companies in town. I had been married for three years, had no children, and had been divorced for four years.
Jill had had a succession of boyfriends, but none of the relationships lasted very long. "Usually, people talk about some women as being high maintenance, but I think that some guys are high maintenance, too, and I can't deal with that," she explained. It was also clear, as Jill talked, that she had a very strong drive to succeed at her work. She kept a rigorous work schedule and regularly took professional development courses, and she had made her way up to being a Level 3 Trainer. I wondered if that might have had something to do with her love life.
As we talked, I accidentally knocked my phone, which had been sitting on the edge of the table, onto the floor. "Damn it!" I exclaimed, and I bent over to pick it up. As I did that, Jill opened her legs slightly, and what I saw under the table was, not a flash of panty, but a cleanly shaven snatch, with the small outer lips parted and an inviting pink slit. I might have taken more time than necessary to pick up my phone, but, in a minute or so, I took care of it and returned to our conversation. I took Jill's no-panties gambit as a hint of things to come. Was I right? At that time, I could only speculate.
Back at the gym, I was not doing very well. I have never been very well coordinated, and I had difficulty following Jill's instructions to do exercises. Finally, to help me with a particular arm and upper body exercise, Jill said, "Watch me." She did the exercise smoothly. Then she said, "Now, put your hands on my shoulders to feel how the muscles and joints move." I did as Jill had said, and she performed the movement again. As I removed my hands, they lightly brushed over her breasts. Jill looked at me for just a second, and then we proceeded. I did the exercise with Jill's hands on my shoulders. When she judged that I had got it right, she had me do 10 repetitions.
Something similar happened when we got to leg movements. Jill demonstrated the movement, and I tried to do it, badly. Jill told me to put my hands on a spot on her hips as she did it again. I felt the firm flesh under her yoga pants, and my cock twitched a little as I felt her move. Then Jill put her hands on my shorts, close to my crotch, as I tried the exercise. My cock twitched again, and Jill looked at me with a slight smile, for a few seconds.
"Mmhh, I think that we need to try that again," Jill said. She looked around quickly to make sure that there were no people in our area of the exercise room, and, this time, she put her hand under my shorts, touching my cock through my jock strap. My cock did more than twitch. It heaved up, pushing against the fabric of my clothes.
Jill and I continued with this system for a while. I learned how I should move by feeling Jill's legs, hips, butt, stomach, arms, shoulders, and back through her clothes, and Jill checked the correctness of my form by feeling my legs, thighs, crotch, stomach, chest, shoulders, and back.
One day, Jill said, "I would like to try something new, but we have to go to another room for that."
"I'm game," I said, and Jill led me to an unused exercise room. It contained a few old machines, of types not used any more, some mats, a table, and bars.
Jill locked the door and said, "You know, our exercise traditions go back to ancient Greece, but, along the way, we have lost something that the Greeks had."
"What is that?" I asked.
"Exercising nude," said Jill. "So I want you to strip," she added. I pulled off my tee shirt, shorts, and jock strap, standing naked except for my sneakers and socks. Jill put me through our whole exercise routine, and felt my legs up to the groin, adding a little ball stimulation as she went along, rubbed my butt, and massaged my back and shoulders. When she got to my chest, as we faced stood face to face, with only a few inches between us, Jill planted a firm kiss on my lips.
