Chapter 1:

The Booking

I stared at my phone screen, thumbs hovering, heart already doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did when I thought about texting him. It was barely nine in the morning on a stupidly hot Saturday in July, and my dorm room felt like a sauna. The upcoming gymnastics trials were in two weeks, and my coach at college had been riding my ass about flexibility and endurance. I needed something extra. Something intense.

I needed Dom.

My finger tapped send before I could chicken out.

Riley: Hey Coach, sorry for the last minute thing but any chance you have a spot open today? Like… now? Trials are killing me and I’m freaking out. I can pay extra.

I tossed my phone on the bed and paced, biting my thumbnail. Dominic Reyes. Forty-five years old, built like a damn tank, covered in tattoos that peeked out from under his compression shirts. Ex-pro athlete turned private trainer. His home gym was legendary luxury equipment, mirrors everywhere, that deep commanding voice that made my stomach tighten every single time he corrected my form.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Dom: Riley. You know I don’t usually do same-day, especially on Saturdays. What’s going on, kid?

I smiled despite myself. He always called me “kid” even though I was nineteen and turning twenty in a few months. It should’ve annoyed me. It didn’t.

Riley: I’ve been practicing on my own but my splits aren’t deep enough and my endurance is shit. I need someone to push me hard. Please, Coach? I’ll bring coffee.

Dom: Coffee won’t save you from what I’ll put you through today. You sure you can handle it? Last session you were tapping out after ninety minutes.

My face heated up. He remembered. Of course he did. I typed faster, legs pressing together without thinking.

Riley: I can handle it. I promise. I’ve been stretching every morning like you showed me. Just… I need more. Deeper work.

There was a longer pause this time. I chewed my lip, imagining him in his big house, maybe shirtless already, scrolling through his phone with those massive hands. God, what was wrong with me? He was more than twice my age. My trainer. But every time those big palms adjusted my hips or pressed down on my lower back during stretches, I got stupidly wet. Embarrassingly so.

Dom: Alright, little athlete. Be here in forty-five. Wear the tiny black shorts I like the ones that don’t hide shit when you sweat. And skip the sports bra if you’re feeling brave. We’re doing full intensity. No half-assing today.

My breath caught. He liked those shorts? I’d worn them last time and noticed him staring, but I thought I was imagining it. Heat pooled low in my belly.

Riley: Yes, Coach. Thank you so much. I’ll be there.

Dom: Good girl. Don’t be late. And Riley?

Riley: Yeah?

Dom: Come ready to be pushed. Really pushed. You asked for it.

I set the phone down, thighs clenching. My pussy was already throbbing just from a few texts. This was so bad. He was my trainer, not… whatever my brain kept turning him into. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it his deep voice growling instructions, the way sweat would bead on his tattooed chest, how his muscles flexed when he demonstrated moves.

I changed quickly, slipping into the tiny black shorts that barely covered my ass and a cropped tank top. No bra, just like he said. My small tits felt extra sensitive against the fabric. I threw on a hoodie for the drive, grabbed my gym bag, and headed out.

The drive to his place took twenty minutes. His house was in a fancy neighborhood big modern place with a private gym wing. I parked, heart hammering, and walked up to the side entrance he always left open for clients.

I stepped inside the cool air-conditioned gym and my breath hitched. Dom was already there, wiping down a bench. He was shirtless, of course. Broad shoulders, thick arms covered in dark ink, abs carved like stone, and those low-slung gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the heavy outline of his cock. At forty-five he looked better than most guys my age. Stronger. Meaner in that hot, experienced way.

“Riley,” he said, voice low and rough like gravel. He turned, eyes dragging slowly down my body. “Right on time. Hoodie off. Let me see what I’m working with today.”

I swallowed hard and unzipped it, letting it drop. My nipples were already stiff against the thin tank.

Dom’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “Good. Those shorts look even better than I remembered. You wet yet, kid? Or do I have to work for that?”

My face burned. “Coach! I…I’m just nervous about trials.”

He chuckled, deep and knowing, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. He towered over me. “Nervous, huh? That why your cheeks are flushed? Drop the bag. We’re starting with warm-ups. But first tell me exactly what you need from me today. Be specific.”

I shifted on my feet, already feeling the dampness between my legs. “I need you to stretch me deeper. Make my splits better. Push my endurance. I keep… holding back on my own.”

Dom’s eyes darkened. He reached out, big hand gripping my chin gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Holding back? That’s not gonna fly here. Today I’m gonna push every limit you’ve got. You’re gonna sweat, you’re gonna shake, and you’re gonna thank me for it. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” I whispered, voice breathy. His thumb brushed my lower lip and I nearly moaned.

He released me and stepped back, clapping his hands once. “Then let’s go. Mat. Now. Legs wide. Show me that flexibility I’m paying for, the flexibility you’re paying me for.”

I moved to the big mat in the center, heart racing. As I dropped into a straddle stretch, I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and hungry. This was just the booking, just the start of the session… but something felt different today. More charged.

Dom crouched behind me, hands pressing down on my thighs, spreading me wider. His breath was hot against my ear.

“That’s it, Riley. Deeper. You want me to stretch you deeper, don’t you?”

I bit back a whimper. “Yes… please.”

The day had only just begun, and I was already completely screwed.

Chapter 2:

First Arrival

I stepped fully into the gym and the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to calm the heat already crawling up my neck. Dom was right there, wiping down the bench like he’d been waiting. Shirtless. Jesus. Those tattoos snaked across his broad chest and down his thick arms some tribal-looking patterns, others more personal, all of them making him look even more dangerous at forty-five. He straightened up, easily six-three, towering over my five-two frame like it was nothing. My tiny black shorts suddenly felt way too small, and the thin tank top? Yeah, my nipples were already betraying me.

“Riley,” he rumbled, that deep voice rolling through the room. He tossed the towel aside and looked me up and down, slow. “Hoodie off. Let me see what I’m working with today.”

My fingers fumbled with the zipper. I shrugged it off and dropped it on a chair, standing there in just the cropped tank and those shorts that rode up my ass. “Here, Coach. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dom’s mouth curved into that half-smirk that always made my stomach flip. “Good girl. Those shorts look even better than I remembered. You wet yet, kid? Or do I have to work for that?”

My face burned hot. “Coach! I..I’m just nervous about trials. That’s all.”

He chuckled, low and rough, stepping closer until I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Nervous, huh? That why your cheeks are flushed? Drop the bag. We’re starting with warm-ups. But first tell me exactly what you need from me today. Be specific.”

I shifted my weight, feeling that familiar throb between my legs already. “I need you to stretch me deeper. Make my splits better. Push my endurance. I keep… holding back on my own.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached out, gripping my chin with one big, calloused hand. Not hard, but firm enough to make me focus. “Holding back? That’s not gonna fly here. Today I’m gonna push every limit you’ve got. You’re gonna sweat, you’re gonna shake, and you’re gonna thank me for it. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” I whispered, my voice coming out breathier than I wanted. His thumb brushed my lower lip for just a second before he let go.

He clapped his hands once. “Then let’s go. Mat. Now. Legs wide. Show me that flexibility I’m paying for no, the flexibility you’re paying me for.”

I moved to the big black mat in the center of the gym, the mirrors on every wall reflecting us back at me. God, he looked massive next to me. I dropped into a straddle stretch, spreading my legs as wide as I could, leaning forward until my chest nearly touched the mat.

Dom crouched right behind me, his hands landing heavy on my inner thighs. “Wider, Riley. Come on. You can do better than that.”

I pushed, feeling the burn in my hips. “Like this?”

“Deeper,” he growled, pressing down firmly, spreading me further. His breath was hot against my ear. “That’s it. Feel that stretch? Hold it. Breathe through it.”

My shorts were already riding up, the fabric pulling tight against my pussy. I could feel myself getting slick, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice yet. But of course he did. His fingers stayed on my thighs, thumbs circling slowly as he held the position.

“Fuck, kid. You’re shaking already,” he said, voice lower. “How long you been this tight? You practicing like I told you?”

“I have been,” I gasped, holding the stretch. “Every morning. But it’s not the same without you pushing me. Your hands… they make it go deeper.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “My hands, huh? Careful what you say, Riley. I might take that as an invitation.”

I turned my head slightly, looking up at him. “Maybe it is? I mean… for the stretching. I need it.”

Dom’s grip tightened just a fraction. “Alright. Up. Let’s do some dynamic warm-ups. Jumping jacks first. Then high knees. I wanna see that body move.”

I stood and started, arms and legs pumping. My small tits bounced under the thin tank, and I knew he was watching every second. Sweat was already starting to bead on my skin from the heat outside and the nerves inside.

“Faster,” he barked. “Don’t slack. Arms higher. There you go. Good little athlete.”

After a minute he stepped in, correcting my form. One big hand on my lower back, the other on my hip, pulling me into better alignment. “Posture, Riley. Arch your back a little yeah, like that. Feel how it engages your core?”

His touch sent sparks straight down between my legs. I nodded quickly. “Yeah… feels better when you do it.”

“Course it does. Now squats. Watch me first.” He demonstrated, dropping low, thighs thick and powerful, sweatpants stretching over his ass and that obvious bulge in front. When he stood, he nodded at me. “Your turn. Ten reps. Deep as you can go.”

I copied him, bending my knees, ass pushing back. On the third one, Dom moved behind me again, hands on my hips. “Lower. All the way down. That’s it. Good girl. Hold at the bottom.”

I held, thighs burning, and felt his fingers dig in. “Coach… it’s hard holding it.”

“You can take it,” he murmured, close enough that his chest brushed my back. “Push through. I see how your body’s reacting. Those shorts are getting damp already, aren’t they?”

I froze mid-squat, face flaming. “I… it’s just sweat. It’s hot in here.”

Dom’s laugh was dark. “Bullshit. That’s not sweat, kid. I can smell how turned on you are. Every time I touch you, you get like this. Don’t lie to your Coach.”

I finished the squats on shaky legs and turned to face him, breathing hard. “Okay… maybe a little. But it’s embarrassing. You’re my trainer. You’re… older. I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” He crossed his arms, muscles flexing. “Get wet when a real man corrects your form? There’s nothing wrong with that. Means your body knows what it needs. Now, lunges. Alternate legs. I’ll spot you.”

We moved through more warm-ups. Lunges, where his hand stayed on my waist, steadying me as I stepped forward. Then shoulder rolls and arm circles, him standing so close I could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.

“You’re doing good, Riley,” he said after a set, wiping a drop of sweat from my collarbone with his thumb. The touch lingered. “But I can tell you’re holding back still. What’s really going on in that pretty head? Trials got you this worked up, or is it something else?”

I bit my lip, glancing at the mirrors. We looked insane together him this tattooed beast, me this tiny flushed gymnast. “Both, I think. I want to impress my college coach, but coming here… it feels different. You push me in ways no one else does.”

Dom’s eyes locked on mine. “Damn right I do. And we’re just getting started. One more form check before we ramp it up. Bent over rows. Grab that dumbbell.”

I picked up the weight and bent at the hips, back straight. Dom stepped right up behind me, his crotch brushing against my ass as he adjusted my grip and posture. “Keep your core tight. Like this.” His hand slid down my spine, stopping just above my ass.

I gasped softly. “Coach… I can feel you.”

“Yeah? Focus, kid. Don’t get distracted now.” But his voice had that edge, rougher. “You’re soaked through those shorts. I can see the spot. Keep going. Five more.”

I did the reps, each one making me more aware of how my body was responding throbbing, aching, leaking. By the end, I was panting.

Dom pulled me up straight, turning me to face him. His hand tilted my chin again. “See? That wasn’t so bad. You handled my corrections well. How’s that pussy feeling after all that touching?”

“Coach!” I squeaked, but I didn’t pull away. “It’s… aching. In a good way.”

He smirked, thumb stroking my jaw. “Good. Means you’re ready for more. Real training’s about to start. You still want me to stretch you deeper today?”

I nodded fast, heart pounding. “Yes. Please. I need it.”

The session had barely begun, but I already knew I was in way over my head with him. And I didn’t want it to stop.

Chapter 3:

Tension Builds

I was still catching my breath from the warm ups when Dom clapped his big hands together, the sound echoing off the mirrored walls. My legs felt a little shaky already, and we’d only been going for twenty minutes. He loomed over me, sweat starting to glisten on his tattooed chest, those gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. God, the man was built like a wall.

“Alright, Riley, time to ramp it up,” he said, voice that deep rumble that always hit me right in the gut. “Squats. Real ones. Not that light shit you do at college. Grab the barbell. We’re doing sets of eight, deep as you can go. I want to see your ass nearly touch the floor.”

I nodded, wiping my forehead. “Okay, Coach. I’ll try.”

“Trying ain’t enough,” he shot back, stepping behind me as I positioned myself under the bar. His hands came down on my shoulders first, adjusting my stance. “Feet wider. Shoulder width plus two inches. There. Now drop. Slow on the way down. Control it.”

I bent my knees and lowered, feeling the burn hit my thighs immediately. The tiny black shorts rode up even higher, digging into me. On the third rep, Dom moved closer, his body heat blasting against my back.

“Deeper, kid. All the way,” he growled, one hand pressing firmly on my lower back while the other gripped my hip. “Push that ass back. Like you’re sitting on something. Yeah… just like that. Hold it at the bottom for two seconds.”

I held, thighs trembling. “Coach, it’s burning already. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Good. That’s the point. You wanted me to push you, remember?” His fingers dug in a little harder on my hip, pulling me down even further. “Four more. Don’t you dare half-ass these. I can see your form slipping. Arch your back more there. Fuck, look at you. So flexible but still so tight in all the right places.”

My face flushed hot. The way he said it… it didn’t sound like regular coaching. I finished the set and stood up straight, panting. Sweat was trickling down my spine, soaking into my tank top. Between my legs, I could feel myself getting seriously wet. The fabric of my shorts was starting to cling in a way that made me want to die of embarrassment.

Dom didn’t give me much rest. “Again. This time I’m spotting you closer. And stretches after. We’re gonna work those splits hard today.”

We did another set. This time he was right up against me, his crotch brushing my ass every time I dropped low. I could feel the heavy outline of him through his sweatpants. It made my pussy throb so bad I had to bite my lip to stay quiet.

“Coach… you’re really close,” I whispered during the hold at the bottom.

“Damn right I am,” he replied, voice low and commanding right by my ear. “How else am I supposed to fix that lazy posture? Keep your core tight. Squeeze those glutes at the top. Good girl. Fuck, you’re getting stronger. But something else is getting wetter, isn’t it?”

I nearly lost my balance on the next rep. “What? No, I….”

“Don’t lie to me, Riley.” His hand slid from my hip to my lower back again, but this time it lingered, pressing just above my ass. “I can see the spot forming on those tiny shorts. Right between your legs. You’re soaking through, kid. Every time I push you down, you drip more. That turn you on? Your old Coach manhandling you like this?”

My heart hammered. I finished the set on shaky legs and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest like that would hide anything. “It’s just sweat, Coach. It’s hot in here. You’re making me work really hard.”

Dom stepped forward, towering over me. He tilted my chin up with one thick finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Sweat doesn’t leave dark wet patches right on your pussy like that. I’ve been training girls for years. I know the difference. You’re fucking drenched. And it’s not the first time I’ve noticed either.”

I swallowed hard, thighs pressing together instinctively. The pressure only made it worse I could feel more slickness leaking out. “I… okay, maybe a little. But it’s embarrassing. You’re forty-five, I’m nineteen. You’re my trainer. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“Shouldn’t?” He smirked, that possessive glint in his eyes making my knees weak. “Your body doesn’t seem to agree. Look down. Those shorts are ruined. Turn around and show me in the mirror.”

I hesitated, but his stare didn’t leave room for arguing. I turned, and there it was clear as day in the reflection. A obvious damp spot right at my crotch, the black fabric darker and clinging to my folds.

“See that?” Dom said, standing behind me now, his hands on my waist. He pulled me back against him so I could feel his cock, half-hard and massive, pressing against my ass. “That’s not sweat, little athlete. That’s your tight college pussy reacting to a real man correcting your form. You like when I get aggressive, don’t you? When I spread you wide and push you deeper.”

“Yes…” I admitted in a small voice, barely above a whisper. “It feels good when you touch me like that. I get all tingly and… wet. I can’t help it.”

“Damn right you can’t.” His voice dropped even lower, rougher. One hand slid down my stomach, stopping just above the waistband of my shorts. “We’re not even at the real stretching yet. You think this is bad? Wait till I have you oiled up and legs pinned back. But first, more work. Straddle stretch on the mat. Now.”

I moved to the mat and sat down, spreading my legs wide into a straddle. Dom dropped down right in front of me this time, his massive frame between my thighs. He grabbed my ankles and yanked me wider, almost painfully so.

“Deeper, Riley. Lean forward. Chest to the mat if you can.” His hands pressed on my inner thighs, thumbs digging into the soft skin. “Fuck, you’re flexible. But I bet I can make it better. How’s that feel?”

“It burns… but good,” I gasped, forehead nearly touching the mat. Sweat dripped off my face. My shorts were pulled so tight now that the seam rubbed right against my clit. “Coach, I’m getting even wetter. I can feel it dripping.”

“I know you can,” he growled, leaning in closer. His breath fanned over my neck. “I can smell it. Sweet and needy. You’re making a mess on my mats already. Keep holding. Tell me how bad you want me to stretch you deeper.”

“So bad,” I moaned softly, unable to stop myself. “I need it, Coach. Your hands… they make everything feel more intense. Please don’t stop pushing me.”

Dom’s grip tightened, spreading me another inch. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear. But we’re just building tension here. Imagine what happens when I really start breaking you in. You think you’re wet now? Just wait.”

He released one leg and trailed his fingers slowly up my thigh, stopping inches from where I was aching most. I whimpered, hips twitching without meaning to.

“Coach… you’re teasing me.”

“Teasing?” He laughed darkly. “This is still training, kid. But yeah… I see how bad you need more. Keep stretching. We’ve got all day to see just how far you’ll let me take this.”

My whole body was on fire thighs burning, pussy throbbing, mind spinning. The age gap, the power he had over me, the way he talked… it was all too much. And we weren’t even halfway through the session yet.