The gym Rebecca goes to has a personal trainer named Chris. She had told me all about how he was sort of a celebrity. Amongst the suburban white women, a tall and muscular black personal trainer like him was in high demand.
His schedule was always booked solid, though Rebecca had mentioned that she never had any trouble making an appointment with him. They had become friends.
I decided to tag along with Rebecca to the gym one day. She had been hassling me about how I was letting myself go. It was true. I had been working nonstop and eating pretty poorly. On my skinny frame, a gut looked quite bad. I wanted to look good for my wife.
The training day went OK. My wife did her routine and I played around with some of the machines and free weights.
I felt a little weird in the gym. All of the men, even the older ones, were stronger than me. A few had tried hitting on Rebecca, but she had fended them off. During the conversations, she would point at me, probably indicating that I was her husband. The other men looked surprised that a woman like her would be with a guy like me, but they respected her wishes.
About halfway through, Rebecca stopped working out and went to the massage area of the gym. She had a weekly subscription to the massage services and it just so happened I had chosen to accompany her on the day she was scheduled to receive a massage.
After she finished up, we met in the common area and headed to the locker room to change. The locker rooms at the gym are private, meaning one person or a couple can use them at once, although there are many lockers for gym goers to store their belongings.
We entered our locker room and I assumed Rebecca did something to make it clear that the room was in use. Apparently she did not, and a man walked in, startling me.
"Chris! What the fuck!" my wife said, holding a towel up to conceal her naked body. Chris had somehow caught us at the worst time, right in the middle of us changing. I quickly pulled up my underwear to conceal myself.
Chris looked equally startled.
"Shit, sorry, sorry!" he said, covering shielding his eyes and looking down immediately.
"Mind if I go over there? I gotta get out of her quick and all my stuff is in here," he said, gesturing towards the other side of the locker room.
There was partition in the middle that separated the room in half. His locker was on the other side, so we could both change separately, even though there was no full divider.
"Yes, go," my wife said, rolling her eyes at me.
Chris hurried over to the other side without looking up. Seemed like a good enough guy.
We heard him open his locker and begin undressing. I started to put my clothes on. My wife dropped her towel and reached for her clothes, but got distracted by a text on her phone. So she was standing there naked checking her phone.
"Hey, either of you have Marinda today?" Chris yelled over the divider. Miranda was one of the newer employees who had just started a few weeks ago.
"Yes, I did," my wife replied, without looking up from her phone.
Chris popped around the corner of the divider wearing just a towel around his waist. She had her back to the divider and I was facing it. I saw his eyes instinctively drop to admire her ass. He couldn't take his eyes off it. My wife just swiveled her head around to look at him, without turning around or covering up, so that her behind was still exposed to his gaze. I found myself looking at his body, wishing I was strong like him.
"Yes? What?" my wife said, clearly a little annoyed. She had noticed that Chris was looking. Chris seemed friendly but also sort of like a pest.
He finally looked up.
"She's new, you know. She did a terrible job on me," he said.
"Oh? How can you tell?" my wife said, a little interested. She had actually been complaining about her massage a few minutes earlier.
"Tight glutes. May I?" he said, gesturing abstractly towards my wife.
"May you what?" she said hesitantly, putting her phone down and paying attention, but still not turning her body around to face Chris. I guess she preferred him seeing her backside rather than her breasts.
"Check your glutes. If possible, you can check mine too," he suggested, in what seemed to be a joking way.
My wife looked back at me with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
"Uh, thanks, Chris, but no thanks. Bye," said my wife dismissively, as she walked over to me.
Chris put his hands up, as if to say no harm done. "No problem," he said with a smile. I couldn't deny he was a charming guy, if a bit annoying.
Once he retreated to his side of the divider, my wife whispered to me.
"So?" she said.
"So what?" I replied.
"Think it's a good idea?" she said, shaking her body back and forth tentatively. Despite her cold reply to Chris I could tell she was interested.
"I'm going to be pissed off all week if my massage sucked," she continued, stretching her body a little and wincing.
"You know he does this sort of stuff for a living. What do you think?" she said, not looking at me directly, still feeling around her body for places of tightness. Chris was a personal trainer, but I guess he had massage experience too?
"Uh, up to you I guess," I said, not really knowing how to respond. I was a little caught off guard, as I thought she had turned him down and that was that.
"Let's just see," she said, and turned around to walk over to the divider. I was about to exclaim but it was too late. She went into view of Chris not wearing anything.
"You know Chris, let's just see. Come, come," she said, gesturing him over to our side again.
"You can put a towel on, please," she continued. Chris appeared and walked over to our side still wearing nothing but a towel. Had she just seen him naked?
He stopped and just sort of stood there, not approaching my wife. I could tell he felt a little awkward.
"So, we don't have any equipment here, but I can perform a basic check no problem, if you want. Please, come stand here," he said, motioning next to him.
My wife walked over at his command, still not wearing anything.
"Okay. I'm going to start now. Basically, if my hands feel good, then the massage was not completed correctly," he said.
He walked up to my wife so that he was inches from her, facing her. He moved his hands around behind her and pressed his fingers into the side of her buttocks, feeling for a pressure point. He wasn't groping her but his hands were all over her ample behind. His muscular frame was essentially wrapped around her.
"Oh!" gasped my wife.
"Feel something?" he said.
"Yes, right there, exactly there," she said. I saw her body relax.
"No problem. Shouldn't take more than a minute. This isn't a complete massage, but it'll last you until next week, when you can get someone other than Miranda, hopefully," he said with a laugh.
"Hah, yeah," said my wife. She wasn't really paying attention to the words, just the sensations from his hands on her plump buttocks. I started getting aroused, just staring. I was watching another man massage my wife and I was enjoying it.
Chris had to reach down in order to get to where he needed to be. When he tried to reach lower to scoop her buttocks into a firm hold to perform some sort of massage technique, he had to readjust his legs, and his towel fell to the floor.
"Oh! No problem," said my wife. She bent down to retrieve the towel and her face was very briefly next to Chris's extremely erect cock. My wife put a hand on his hip, right near his groin area, to stabilize herself. Then she picked up the towel and stood up. I think I may have seen her stabilizing hand brush over his penis, but I couldn't see for sure.
He took the towel from her hand and tied it around his waist. I now noticed that his bulging member could be easily seen through the cotton towel. His penis was pressed against my wife, though through the fabric of the towel.
"Almost done. Now, please relax again," he said.
She did. He continued his massage of her buttocks, wrapping his arms around her and taking his time, but also not doing any overt groping.
His actions seemed to be having an effect, because my wife was leaning into him, with one hand gripped to his bicep to keep herself from falling over. She was pressed firmly against him as he did his work. In fact, it sort of looked like my wife was the one being unprofessional, not Chris.
After about a minute he released my wife and pulled away from her, putting his hands on her shoulders so she didn't fall down.
"All set. How's that?" he said.
"So much better. Thank you, Chris," she said, as she bent down to finally retrieve her clothing. I saw Chris involuntarily bite his lip as he admired her backside.
"Anything for me?" he said, grinning sheepishly. She turned back around to look at him, then down to the outline of his penis through his towel, then back up again.
"No, I think you're good for now. Thanks though!" she said dismissively, as she turned around again, ignoring him. He turned away, rejected, and went back to his side. My wife dressed quickly and we left quickly without seeing him again.
"Yeesh! What a hassle," my wife said as we were on our way out the door. She was wearing a short sundress. I couldn't help but admire the sway of her hips as we walked by the front desk. Her assets were quite remarkable.
I caught myself after a moment and looked up: the man behind the front desk was doing the same as me. He gave me a nod, out of respect I think. He probably didn't know what had just occurred a moment before.
Once we were in the car, I turned to her.
"Had your fun?" I asked, trying to play it cool, but still show my disapproval.
"Oh, yes. Thank you sweetie. I'm glad you got to meet Chris. He's harmless as a fly," she said, as she curled in the passenger seat and rested her head against my shoulder.
"Yeah, he's alright. A little irritating," I said, as I started the car and turned to drive home.
---
Three weeks later my wife came home with another story.
"Ugh, I had Miranda again," she said as she walked in the door.
I looked over from the couch. I was in my boxers drinking a beer. I had started slacking on my fitness again.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "Luckily Chris was able to help me out again," she continued, as she tossed her keys on the table.
I knew what that meant and groaned internally.
"He wanted to give you another massage?" I replied.
"Well, no," she explained. "He said he was afraid he would get in trouble. But I gave him puppy eyes and he agreed to come into the locker room and help me out."
"That's cool," I replied curtly.
She didn't seem to notice my tone.
