"Will they, like, let me in the gym if I'm not a member?" Lisa asked.
It was a fair question, but her stepfather was a bit of a jerk. The light changed, and he roared through the intersection chirping the tires. Lisa gripped the door panel as the car powered around the corner. He was a lawyer and her mother often characterized him as selfish and ruthless. Negotiating the turn, he accelerated down the highway.
"All under control," he said. Grabbing her leg just above the knee, he gave her a firm squeeze and winked. "I'm meeting with my trainer so you'll be on your own."
Lisa nodded, grateful to go solo.
Maybe this was his way of connecting, she reasoned. His relationship with her mother was so strained, Lisa couldn't help but feel guilty about doing anything fun with him.
At the gym, the attendant smiled warmly as they made their way inside.
Lisa marveled at the opulence of the locker rooms and tried to look older and more sophisticated than she felt. Looking at her reflection, she saw an eighteen-year-old girl with shaggy blonde hair and a pert nose. Although she would never admit it, she craved the attention of a man. She stripped, admiring her firm breasts, toned thighs, and shapely ass. If her mother wasn't so strict about dating, Lisa would surely have had a boyfriend by now. As it was, she hadn't much experience with men. She'd gone down on a boy once at the shore and allowed one of her friend's older brothers to grope her tits. She masturbated regularly, sometimes with a hairbrush, and other times with just her finger. Pulling her gym shorts high on her hips, she looked into the mirror and admired her ass. The gym would be filled with muscular, available men. A tingle between her legs made her mouth go dry. Watching herself in the mirror, she twerked until the sight of her gyrating ass bolstered her confidence enough to leave the locker room behind. The air-conditioned gym air made her nipples hard.
Her stepfather waved her over.
The trainer was lean and muscular and might have been the most attractive man Lisa had ever seen. Dark skin, clean-shaven, and a no-nonsense chin. The tingle between her legs returned, making her eyelids flutter. Checking her look in the mirror, she made her way toward them. Her stepfather suddenly grabbed himself between his legs. "Sheeeeeee," he swore, stretching the vowel. "We be ma'fuckin kings up in this bitch."
Lisa gave her stepfather a horrified look.
He was using African American vernacular to express himself. Worse, the trainer looked like an African American. He reached out to greet her. Composing herself, she took his hand. His name was Jamal, and he was younger than her stepfather but at least ten years her senior. He didn't seem at all offended by her stepfather's questionable behavior.
A phone rang.
Her stepfather swore again, the same as before, and told Jamal he needed to step outside to take the call. Wondering what had gotten into her stepfather, Lisa excused herself and began her workout. She ran on a treadmill to warm up, then made her way to the rack to start on her thighs. As she squatted, she looked into the mirror to find Jamal watching her.
She racked the weight. Turning to him, she said: "I'd like to apologize for my stepfather's behavior. That was, like, incredibly disrespectful."
"He's a character." Jamal shrugged, pointing to the rack. "You want some tips for this?"
"Am I doing it wrong?" Lisa looked at the rack.
"Do a few for me."
She shouldered the weight and did a few more reps. His attention ignited a pleasurable warmth inside her that went beyond the heat she was generating with her workout.
"Hold up," he said.
He stood behind her with his chest a tantalizing distance from her back. A light sandalwood fragrance filled her head. He was explaining something about the mechanics of lifting and his fingertips stroked the muscles in her shoulders. Her mouth dried up and a flutter in her stomach made her thighs clench.
He had her rack the weight and then removed the plates.
He got behind her again, but this time he pressed his chest against her back and put his hands on her hips. A firm bulge pressed into her ass. Her heart rate quickened and she took a big gulp of air. Something --
his erection
-- was grinding against her. As if to underscore this development, he made a soft growling noise in his throat.
She didn't trust herself to speak. What would she say? Looking around the gym, she reassured herself that no one could tell what they were doing.
"You ready," he whispered.
"Sure," she said. Her voice came out all husky and wrong.
She cleared her throat to provide a better response, but he gently shushed her. His gesture seemed to acknowledge the lewdness of what they were doing, allowing her to glory in the wrongness of it all. Her stepfather would go ballistic if he knew she was flirting with his personal trainer.
"Squat," Jamal commanded.
She lowered herself; his body moved with hers.
It flashed across her mind that maybe this was just how athletes trained with one another. Maybe her dirty mind was making his innocent instructions into something sexual. At the bottom of the squat, his cock pressed into the small of her back.
Maybe that was his athletic cup
. Maybe he was just teaching her the proper way to do a squat.
"For squats," he said with a throaty whisper. "We
sink it deep
."
She sighed, her heart thumping in her ears.
His intentions were perfectly clear. If that was his athletic cup pressed into the small of her back, then his athletic cup was holding an erect cock. He moved his hands from her hips to the side of her torso and his fingers were deliciously close to the sides of her boobs. He whispered for her to rise and she did.
Her legs were weak, her throat wonderfully tight.
She racked the bar and watched in the mirror as he took a long, admiring look at her bottom. Turning to him, she couldn't help but immediately glance at the front of his workout pants. A glorious erection stood in his shorts. He smirked and deftly adjusted his waistband to camouflage his bulge.
His phone jangled and he turned to answer.
She let out a big exhale of relief. Her body thrummed with pleasure and her nipples were poking through the material of her shirt. Turning to hide from the rest of the gym, she blew air from her lips to calm herself. Her mind returned to the fat cock pressed into her ass.
Jamal touched her shoulder and it made her start.
"Hey," he said, "your stepfather is tied up and asked me to give you a lift home."
***
"Do you like to party?" Jamal asked.
He parked at a deserted lookout spot and produced a mirror and some white powder. Lisa watched Jamal get high. He offered her the mirror and she accepted. She hadn't much experience with drugs, but they'd bonded telling one another stories of her stepfather's egregious behavior, and she didn't want him to think she was unsophisticated. Soon her head tingled and her mouth went dry. Jamal gave her whiskey to wet her throat. The alcohol made her feel bold, and she began talking about her mother's plans to leave her stepfather.
She soon found she couldn't stop talking.
She talked and talked.
Jamal moved his seat back, lifted his bottom, and shoved his pants to the middle of his thighs. His cock was long and dark, surrounded by a thick bush of pubic hair. He took his shaft in his fist and gave it a stroke.
Lisa gasped.
She laughed, averting her eyes.
She couldn't make sense of what she'd just seen. Had he forgotten she was sitting next to him? Before she could chide him for exposing himself, his hand was on the back of her neck, and then suddenly her face was in his lap. His musky scent filled her nose. She tried to rise but found she couldn't. He was holding her by the neck.
His big cock filled her view.
A deep and horrible sense of guilt consumed her.
She'd been talking too much. He was patient, but every man's patience had a limit. She'd pushed past his and now he'd had no choice but to shove a cock in her mouth.
She whimpered. Trying to crane her head around, she wanted to apologize.
His fist closed around a handful of her hair and her scalp erupted in pain. Her cheek pressed into his pubic patch. His warm cock bounced off her nose. She opened her mouth and scooped his cock inside. His fist relaxed and the pain in her scalp receded. She worked her hips around so that she could kneel on her seat. His hand rested on her head. Jacking his cock with her fist, she frantically licked her lips to wet her mouth. Fully committing to his pleasure, she shoved his cock as far into her mouth as she could. He was attractive, she reasoned. A good listener. She really didn't mind sucking cock. Next time--
if there were a next time
--she wouldn't talk so much. He held her head with both hands and began bucking his hips.
She mewled, realizing he would soon come into her mouth.
Cum didn't taste good, but she wouldn't consider asking him to spare her. A little cum wouldn't be so bad, she decided. Besides, he'd suffered such poor treatment from her stepfather, who didn't understand the African American struggle. She took pride in how much she'd taught herself about black people. She wanted Jamal to know that she was different. She was white, but she wasn't like other white people. She was willing to do whatever it took to recognize inequality -- even if it meant letting him fill her mouth with a big nasty load of cum.
He froze, holding her head to his groin.
He grunted.
Cum filled her mouth. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but there was way too much, and the excess blasted out the sides of her mouth, coating his shaft.
He batted her hands away and pumped his cock.
His rejection of the way she was jacking his cock shamed her. Her inability to swallow all of his semen humiliated her. She wished she were better at sucking cock. These were the thoughts going through her mind as he pumped his nut into her mouth. Something went down her windpipe and she coughed, spitting semen into his lap.
