I was about to close a huge and heavy chapter of my life. But it has been pointed out to me that before I skip away into the tangerine sunset of my new life, there are a few issues that probably need addressing. (And I'm not talking about my body hang-ups). And who’s better for that purpose, than one’s favourite ex-personal trainer. This story started as a fun flash, but as usual, grew to something much much bigger. I hope it was worth all the added parts and hours. Enjoy. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Erm. :D

Saturday night. I’m so bored. Let’s see who’s online.

“Hi, T.”

“Well, well. I wonder what dragged the cat in.”

“:D Are you still on the scene T.?”

“I haven’t seen you since the 2010’s”

“Oh, doesn’t it make us sound sooo old. There was a pandemic and all.”

“Pandemic, right. How’s the husband?”

“Well, that does not matter”

“If you say so, baby.”

“I have a few positions opening...”

“As in??”

“I need a personal trainer. Among other things.”

“Afraid I’m too far for that.”

“You know me, busy as ever. But I could sacrifice the odd Saturday and the rest could be online or summin.”

“That seems doable. Did you say you’re looking for something else too?”

“Yup, a sidekick.”

“Oh.”

“That could be part of our new arrangement.”

“Haha, what do I get out of it?”

“Little ol’ me.” I include a blushing cat emoji to try to sweeten the deal.

“Oh, I dunno Kat, my prices have gone up... Cost of living etc. :D”

“I have new skills... Lol, no, just messing with ya. I’m happy to pay for your professional coaching, as always, obviously. The rest... That is a fair arrangement, init? So what do you say T., wanna play? :D”

“Where do I sign?”

“.................... here :D"

“Oh, wait, I cannot sign it, you’ll find out my name.”

“Aren’t you just sweet, that you remember our little inside joke?” I have found out his name ages ago, I just didn’t tell him. “Just sign as T."

“T......... So when do I see you?”

“Now?”

“What?”

“I can go on cam.”

“Wow, that’s definitely an unforeseen turn of events. Let me just find somewhere more quiet. I just got in, still in the kitchen, coming over the shock of a stray cat barging in on me.”

“:D Yes, let me put something ‘more comfortable’ on too.”

***

Fuck, what the hell has gotten into me? I wasn’t planning on jumping right back to that. Where the hell are those fishnet stockings he always liked? Fuck, fuck!! My hair is an absolute mess. And he’s gonna hate me for all the pounds I piled on... Well, no chickening out now.

“Just a warning, I have asked you for the training sessions for a good reason...”

“Just get your sexy, fat ass on cam already!”

Charming. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He is still goddamn wet dreams material. His smile always reminded me of a cute arctic fox – if that arctic fox had black hair and eyes that could pierce through the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

After staring at each other with the unfamiliar familiarity and grinning like two overripe pumpkins, his hell-rising lips break the silence.

“I like that top.”

“I know,” I grin, “I remember your lace and fishnet obsession.”

“I like how your nipples are so hard and poking through the lace.”

“Oh, it’s cold.”

“Cold, right. Let me see the rest of you, let me see what I’m working with.”

All my insecurities that I tried to hide under baggy mummy clothes for the last year or two rush to the surface, trying to burn a continent-sized hole into my fickle confidence. Then I remind myself that he won’t see my bingo wings or pudgy tummy. He knows what I’m capable of. All he will see, is potential. “Part of me wants to grab a marker and outline the problem areas as if we were doing cosmetic surgery. Is that weird?”

“Very. But we cater to all kinds of kinks here, kitten," he chuckles. "But if you ask me, all you need is a little shape-up. You’re being hard on yourself.”

“And stamina. It would be nice to go back to running. At the moment, I can’t even keep up with the kids.”

“You used to do 10k, didn’t you?”

“Would you think I’ve gone bonkers, if I said I wanted to do a marathon? Or at least a half?”

“Again, you’re being hard on yourself. You just had a baby.”

“That ‘baby’ is now in school.”

“Fuck, we are old!” If I remember correctly, he has two boys, who are similar in age.

“OK, no excuse then, but don’t exhaust yourself. That’s my job.”

“Fuck. Cannot wait.”

“Let’s keep your masochistic streak for the bedroom, baby.”

“Wait, are we not talking bedroom?”

“We’re most definitely taking bedroom. Are you wet?”

“I wasn’t, till you said you will make me work hard,” I laugh slightly uncomfortably.

“You have no fucking idea!”

“Are you hard?”

“I was hard when your message popped up.”

“Liar!”

“Am I?”

He theatrically lowers the camera and shows off his hard-on through his tight black jeans, smoothing the material against it, to throw his mighty size in my face.

“Fuck, I miss you like crazy.”

“Can you not come over?”

“No, not tonight.”

“Shame.”

“Shame, indeed.”

“We just have to make do. Get those tits out and pull on those hard nipples. Scrape your nails across them.”

I do as I’m told, like the good girl I am.

“Where are your signature black nails?”

“Had to tone down, new job.”

“Oh, look at you all good-girl-professional. When I see you, I want the old Kat, black nails, kitten ears, collar... Where’s your collar?”

“Gathering dust in my toy box.”

“Shame.”

“I know, right?”

“Get your sexy ass and fetch it. Buckle it around your submissive neck.”

Again, I follow his orders, because, well that’s what I do, then show him proudly. “Like this?” I purr.

“No, the tightest hole. Remember, my grip won’t be so light around your neck...”

“Fuck.”

“That got you fucking wet, didn’t it?”

“You know me too well.”

“Good girl. Now, tighten that fucking collar! What other toys do you have in that box?”

“Just my usual old junk, nothing new.” Not that he would know, we haven’t used much before. I turn the camera towards the old shoe box so he can see the contents.

“That glass cock looks nice and thick.”

That used to be my husband's favourite, not that it matters... “Good choice, that’s about the only one that has been used recently and doesn’t need a wash,” I smirk.

“Can you fit all of that length in your small mouth?”

“Nah, not all of it.”

“But you will try, right?”

Oh, I’d crawl over hot coals when you ask me in that voice. “Of course, I will,” I purr.

“Be a good girl and put the camera where I can see you and use both hands.”

I sit down on the floor and place the phone on the TV stand, propped against my husband's PS controller. If he spent half the time on me than on his stupid games, I wouldn’t be here doing this without him, I ponder vindictively.

“Com’ on then, let me see you try,” T. prompts me, narrowing his fox-eyes at me.

I had that thing in my mouth before and let me tell you, I’m not looking forward to it. And that’s coming from someone who had the fortune (or misfortune?) to swallow - correction ‘try to swallow’ - a 10 inch monster before. I slide the head and an inch or two through my reluctant lips. “Damn, that’s cold,” I whisper popping it out of my mouth drawing a line with it on the tip of my tongue for porn effect.

“Tell that to someone who cares! It will warm up in no time. No, push it down your throat, fusspot!”

“Mmm, I like it when you’re being mean to me,” I mew and grin into the camera.

“Less talking, more swallowing, slut!”

“Or?”

“God, shut your bratty mouth. I’m losing my patience!”

“Ok, ok,” I sigh, going under, putting the uncomfortable, cold stick back in my mouth. It is nothing like the real one. Why do I have to have a glass fetish? Why can’t I have a nice silicone ones? Why do I hate the look of those so much? A silicone one would definitely feel softer in my throat.

“Deeper,” he snaps, tapping some sort of hard surface in front on him. “Wrap your other hand around your throat, I want you to feel it going down!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I used to love it when he did that. That memory fuels me to try harder. For a fraction of a second I manage to push it through the resistance in the back of my throat and swallow the full length.

“Now, that’s much better, but I want you to keep it down, gag on it a bit.”

I try my hardest to keep it down but it’s so fucking uncomfortably hard in my neck. He slowly counts to two as I push recklessly against my body’s limits.

“Now, that’s my girl.”

That sentence (or fucking my gag reflex) starts the Iguazu Falls in my knickers.

“Now, I want you to do that again and again. I want you to have a sore throat tomorrow and think of me all day.”

I’m sure I will, even without that overkill-potent threat, but I happen to love his rough rouge ways. “I try.”

“You better try, and better try hard, slut!”

It’s not cold anymore. Still hard, thick and alien, though. I fuck my throat with it, my other hand alternating between squeezing my neck and pulling on my collar as I imagine he’d do. I curse in and between. And when I dare to ask, I inquire if he had enough of torturing me. To which the answer is always “No.” or “Absolutely not.” or “You wish.” or “Get stuffed, slut.”

The only thing that keeps me going is that every time I push through my limits, he rewards me with a glimpse of himself rubbing his outrageously hard cock and hisses things like: “If I were there, I’d push your face down on the bedframe and force all that down your neck till you can’t fucking breathe!” That threat alone would push me over the edge - just like the actual act used to in a threesome. But fuck, let’s not go back there. I don’t want to think of that, I don’t want to think of him.

The next time I’m allowed to come up for air, I beg, “I need to see you, T.! And very soon."

“I know. You will,” he smirks. “Cost of living etc..., I can’t let a potential customer slip through my fingers, can I?” he jokes. “I need to keep her happy... and satisfied. Don’t I?”

I grin like a kid that got a new bike and a basket of puppies for Christmas.

“You’ve been a good girl. That’s enough. Now, I want you to rub your hard nipples with it and tell me how do you feel.”

I think my whole body breaking out in sweat and my chest becoming all flushed is the perfect indication of how I feel.

“Do you want more?”

Good heavens, I want to fuck that voice! “How do I feel? I already have a sore throat, thank you very much.” The brat replies. But the good girl gone bad alter ego adds, “I feel fucking filthy and needy.”

“I like needy. Do you want to fuck yourself with that dildo for me, kitten?”

You need to keep talking to me in that voice and you need to smirk at me like that for the rest of my life. And beyond. Pretty please! I would do anything, Sir! But, alas! I just realised that I'm not quite prepared for all of this and, well I forgot to tend to my winter lady garden. Why the hell did I not think we will end up doing this? We always have. Was planning on only discussing the fitness lessons with him? Probably.

Well, the best way in my opinion is always, honesty, so I tell him what’s holding me back.

“Up to you,” he replies nonchalantly. “I can wait. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t even have to show me all the details, you know. I just enjoy watching your face when you cum.” Another one of those smirks that want to make me cum right here, right now.

Haha, I don’t know which one is worse, though. “Thats even worse,” I laugh. But it’s not really funny. If we were together, I wouldn’t mind. I never did. It used to push me over the edge. But not like this. I don’t want him watching me cum on cam. “Oh my god, I hate this. Can you really not come over?”

“No, not tonight baby. I got the boys.”

“God damn it.” I want to kick something over. Preferably something of husband’s possession.

“It’s OK. You just shut up and do as you’re told. It will be OK. Trust me.”

I don’t have another choice, do I? “Yes, sir.”

“That’s much better, kitten. I want you to slide the cold glass between your labia and then fuck yourself hard with it. Really hard. And deep. And stretch yourself a bit too. How does that feel?”

“Fucking nice.”

“Would you like this in your mouth while you’re fucking yourself?” he teases, showing himself fisting his chunky meat glistening with precum. I catch a glimpse of his wedding band. I wonder what has happened there. Last time we hung he was divorcing. But who am I to judge with my fucked up back story? In fact, to my messed up mind, it’s just a turn-on. So is his other, square ring that he used to love rubbing against my G-spot 'till I screamed - while the other one gagged me with either his cock or palm, I don’t quite remember that detail.

God, I got a bit carried away, haven’t I? “Are you sure you cannot come over?” I beg. This is not enough! I want his fingers around my neck to leave an imprint, I want that irresistible cock inside me and I want that damn ring on my clit!

“I said I can’t. And you better shut up about it or your big butt gets a hard spanking, when I CAN come over!” He’s pulling his t-shirt over his head. Those abs! I want to die on them! “That is not a threat and you know that,” I grin.

“Enough slut. Clean that dildo for me. I want to know how you taste.”

“Mmm I taste like manuka honey. I taste like the Eden of tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow can work. Fuck, can’t wait to shove all of this in your pretty little mouth.” Of course, he demonstrates what he means by ‘all of this’ and my insides scream up to my head to just jump in the car, like NOW. “Yes please.”

“Beg for it.”

“I need you to shove that perfect irresistible cock down my throat. And fuck my face like you used to.”

“Good girl. I bet you’re dripping wet.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Tongue out, I will cum on your tongue and I want you to make yourself cum on the glass cock. One hand on nipples, rubbing them, other one working the dildo. I wait for you.”

I really don’t need much. I rub the hard glass against my g-spot and pull on my nipple, piercing it with my nail as I imagine he would.

“Cum on my tongue,” I beg as my sight distorts into the birth of a new universe and my voice goes all weak and funny.

He squirts his load on those delicious abs.

“Tomorrow you’ll be cleaning all this all up,” he taunts with fox eyes reflecting a starry night.

“See you tomorrow, T.” I grin close up into the camera.

“Good night, kitten.”

That ‘tomorrow’ turns into next Saturday but that just makes it all more fucking stellar.