An in-home personal trainer was a mixed message of an 8th anniversary present. I really couldn't tell whether it was super thoughtful of my husband because I was working remotely nine out of 10 days, and we lived out in the boonies, or if it was some kind of subtle critique that I wasn't in 'good enough' shape for him. Kind of a blow to the old self-esteem there.
Jesse banished my negative thoughts pretty quickly, however. He was professional, enthusiastic and encouraging - and kind - all while working with me to create and start executing a plan to set and then achieve the goals I wanted. The house's neglected basement workout room was suddenly not a place to guiltily avoid, but look forward to visiting. Jesse talked with me about music, books, even my work; non-workout things, to distract me from the physical effort, to find the right motivation for an incremental improvement, to make a game of getting one more rep or 5 more seconds holding a crunch, or to find the right beat of music to make a treadmill run more effective and almost fun.
I'd insisted early that he dump the "Mrs. Molloy" and call me Nicole. The only time Jesse Hall use his last name was on the phone and his business card. Despite being a working relationship, it wasn't fair not to talk on more equal terms.
It didn't hurt that he praised my successes, even flattered me. I mean, maybe it was part of his motivational technique, but he was complimentary to my body, my movements - he used the word 'graceful' to describe me with a straight face! - and, well, in truth he made me feel attractive, even desirable.
In fact, over time, he made me feel desired. By him. it was subtle. A look. A smile, a comment that just might have had a double meaning. A guiding touch in an exercise that lingered a half second longer than expected. It was a kind of attention I had been missing for a long time without even realizing it, and I drank it up. It took me a while to notice it. When I did I didn't even wonder, at first, if this was the kind of thing he did with al his clients, because it seemed, at least at first, like he didn't know he was doing it. When I did start to wonder, I pretty quickly realized I didn't care. That he might be making others feel good about themselves didn't diminish how he made me feel.
Jesse was obviously easy on the eyes himself - and his touch was gentle and strong and nice. By the second month of our thrice weekly sessions, I was reciprocating his flirtations, and it was pretty clear that's what they were, now. Over the next several weeks, one tiny move at a time, almost without noticing it, or rather, I noticed it but pretended I could ignore it, we moved farther. We stayed connected longer - a guiding hand slid off my arm or side or leg instead of lifting off. I leaned into him for balance support instead of against him. Almost every session held one more incremental step towards the edge of a precipice that I couldn't or wouldn't look at, but couldn't or wouldn't turn away from.
I did wonder then, a little, if seduction was part of his plan - either a weird motivation technique, or something a little less pure. If it was that, though, he was very good at it, and I could, I believed play the game either way. Could - and wanted to.
Nine, ten weeks in, I was definitely stronger, and I didn't need Jesse's praise to notice my improved muscle tone and coordination, and body confidence. My colleagues commented on it on my office days, and friends noticed it on weekend get togethers and parties - that I mostly attended by myself because of Ryan's schedule. Ryan himself barely seemed to notice anything. It was almost like he'd forgotten his present to me and didn't realize, or really care, that it was slowly but surely changing my physique - and my life. I wondered for the first time if Ryan was seeing someone else on his long days, or his business trips. I sincerely doubted it, but began to think that maybe I didn't really care.
Week 12 - the Wednesday session to be exact, Jesse was spotting me on the workout bench as I lifted dumbbells until I couldn't do another rep. I remember my arms shaking and him taking hold of the weights around my own hands and helping me lower them down to the mat. This put his head right over mine and, I don't know, something happened in the moment, like blurred eyes suddenly coming into focus. A rush of adrenaline hit me as I looked at his upside-down face and the whole world shifted.
While his hands were still on mine, I raised my head and kissed him on the lips. He froze for a moment, a heartbeat, but didn't startle, didn't recoil. Instead, he kissed me back, slowly pushing my head back down to the padded bench, and really kissing me back. It took my breath away just as much as the hardest of workouts. His hands caressed up my arms, to my shoulders, to my face. His tongue sought mine out and I responded in kind. His hands moved down to my sweat soaked sports bra and cupped, then squeezed my breasts through the fabric, and I sighed and then moaned into his mouth.
His hands found their way under the bra, and their touch was electric. I knew things were changing then, that they had already. This was the step off the cliff; something real that would not be able undo or take back, and I wanted it. My hands found their way above my head to caress his chest through his workout shirt - and then under it. It was me who first grabbed the fabric of his clothing and made to pull his shirt off. Jesse let me, and returned the gesture, easily sliding the tight sports bra up and off me before resuming his kiss, settling his big hands firmly on, around my breasts, catching my nipples between his fingers and gently pinching them, making me gasp against his lips.
His lips moved on me, sliding off mine to kiss and lick down my neck, I turned my head to let him - one side, then the other, opening my mouth to breath deep shuddering breaths. He trailed his tongue and lips down to my chest, teasing his way to a breast, enveloping almost the whole thing in his lips and sucking slow and hard, tongue swirling over my nipple, making me shudder and squeal, and grab at his sides as I stared up at his chest. I though for a moment about trying to reciprocate, but it felt so good, I just sighed and craned my neck, giving me a view of his muscled abdomen and the clear bulge in his gym pants. After a good long suckle, he slid his mouth over to my other breast and repeated, and I squirmed and closed my eyes in pleasure. My breasts had never been treated like that before - like they were feasts to be devoured; like they were erotic keys to be turned to unlock... what?
Desire. The word "burning" is cliche - and not exactly accurate. I was hot, so very hot. But I wasn't burning with desire - I was, I realized, soaking with it. I could feel, just from my shifting hips, how wet I was under my yoga pants. I wanted... needed... Him.
I opened my eyes to see Jesse still arched over me on the bench. I was still down again along his body, his taught abs, seeing again he was was hard under his shorts. I realized with a shock and thrill, he was hard for me.
I reached for his waistband and, while he sucked voraciously and I panted, I tugged and pulled at the awkward angle to pull his shorts down. I noted as I did that all of a sudden my arms didn't seem so tired, and smiled to myself. My smile changed, I'm sure, when I finally freed his cock. Many thoughts hit me at the same time just then. Jesse was big. Bigger, thicker, longer than Ryan, and still thickening and growing now that he was no longer confined. And dark. I mean, I had never been unaware of Jesse's blackness - his dark-chocolate skin was gorgeous and flawless - but his shaft, close up, was truly striking in contrast to the paleness of my hand as I reached and took hold of it; striking and mesmerizing.
Jesse's response to my fingers curling around his warm thickness was to twitch and throb in my hand and hum-groan into my breast. I pulled on him, trying to bring him closer to my mouth so I could reciprocate some of what he was doing to my breasts, and he let me draw him in. He smelled, and felt good and are and work against my cheek, and lips. I stuck out my tongue and dragged it around the head and sides of his cock and felt and heard him react appreciatively. He tasted good. Sexy. Fitting my lips around the tip, I pulled him into my mouth, one hand around the base of his shaft, the other reaching for his hip.
I didn't get more than an inch or two into my mouth - and even that spread my lips around the girth - before a lightning strike of pleasure between my legs made me squeal around it. I had been too distracted to notice Jesse's hands sliding along my sides to insinuate under the waist of my pants. One of his hands was now cupping the whole of my mound, a thick finger sliding along, between, the folds of my slit, dragging across my clit while doing so. His other hand was pushing the waistband downward, exposing me to him.
I raised my hips, both to make it easier to strip me and to press my pussy up into his hand, at the same time as pulling him more insistently into my mouth. His hardness against my tongue was proving to be an incredible turn on. The up-close and personal view of his heavy looking balls made something deep inside me quiver, almost ache. I sucked and licked at his shaft, knowing I couldn't get too much in my mouth without gagging; I was no blowjob pro, after all. Ryan liked, but didn't love them, and I hand't felt the urge to bother with it with him for a long time. He had almost never reciprocated either, and wasn't nearly as challenging or erotic in my mouth as-
Jesse's hot tongue replaced his finger on, then in my pussy, worming deeply into my slit, completely derailing my train of thought - and all other thought - from my head. He started going down on me with the same purpose, the same intent and intensity and attention he'd been giving my breasts. I simply couldn't give his cock the attention I'd wanted to then. I had to pull him out of my mouth, and just hold his shaft and his hip tight, because all I could do was moan and buck up into his mouth. As he did things with his mouth and tongue I hadn't known were possible, I stared up at his hard, hard cock, watching a pearly drop form at the very tip. Between gasps and other noises, I felt compelled to bring that tip down to my mouth and lick the salty sweetness from it, feeling him twitch in my grip.
If he kept going for any longer, he was going to make cum, and my body was almost vibrating in anticipation. Jesse paused, then, and stood, freeing his cock from my handhold and moving around me. He briefly replaced his mouth with the broad palm of his hand, keeping my hips moving, never breaking contact between my legs.
He moved to the foot of the bench and straddled it, his legs just outside of mine. His thumb slowly slid up and down over my clit as he looked a question down at me. The question was as obvious as the cock now pointed right between my legs, and my answer was clear as I raised my legs and bent and parted my knees wide open in brazen invitation.
"Do you have a condom?" He asked. The fact he did melted any last doubt in me away. It also took away any sting my answer could have given me.
"No, but it's ok, I... can't get pregnant. At all. No fertility." The pain of that knowledge had been bad for the three years Ryan and I had tried to start a family, but now that wound was pretty healed, though maybe its scars explained some, or a lot of, the cooling of our marriage. Jesse's eyes softened at my answer, and I could tell sympathy and concern were making him hesitant now, even in his rampant state. I was beyond hesitation, though, diving headlong off the cliff, and I wanted him with me.
"I'm ok, I can show you my medical record" I babbled thinking he might legitimately be concerned about things like STDs - I don't know why (ok, maybe I do), but I had no doubts he was fine in that department. It was all just part of the buzzing in my head and tingle between my legs that had me humping up against his hand, eyes half closing in pleasure, "I want you. I want-"
Jesse lowered himself toward me, cock in hand, nuzzling the fat tip between my vulva, making me shiver from both the first stretching sensation, and the shocking visual of his big black thing nosing at my pale pink, suddenly small-seeming entrance.
We both stared at that junction as his cock pushed into me, inch by inch, by inch. My body trembled, outside and in as he filled me more than I'd ever been. I mewled and gasped and sighed as he made my pussy take him, more and deeper than I'd ever been filled. He wasn't silent either, letting out low growls of his own pleasure, until, just as I felt a strange new pressure impossibly deep inside me, his abdomen pressed against mine. I was stuffed completely, the head of his cock pressing firmly against the end of my passage, the base of it hugged tight by my stretched inner labia, the length of it surrounded by my spasming walls. It was so much. Too much. Just perfect.
I raised my eyes to meet and stare into his as my orgasm hit, just from being hilted by his cock. He held there as I contracted over and over, crying out and squeezing him.He only started to move after my head lolled back with a deep sigh. But this meant that now, oh, so slowly at first, Jesse was fucking me. He was also demonstrating that I'd never really been fucked before. Not fucked.
I had to alternate my attention between raptly watching his cock disappear into my obscenely open pussy and shifting to look at his face as he watched himself fuck me, or look back at me. I also closed my eyes every few strokes just to feel his complete taking of me. At one point he leaned down and kissed me while my eyes were closed and I moaned and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him to me as his pace quickened. I came a second time that way and he slowed as I shook again, but I hissed "Don't stop!" In his ear. "Don't ever stop."
