I was never one to give a shit about fitness, but after randomly deciding to take up kickboxing some years ago and attending a few classes with a hot instructor, I loved it. 8 a.m. workouts? SURE! Burpees, planks, and push-ups? MY FAVE. Like a true athlete, I was suddenly really, really passionate about fucking my teacher becoming physically fit and improving my skills.
Because I’m certainly not immune to the draw of a cliché sexual fantasy, I had always been fascinated by the hot taboo of the student-teacher dynamic. Unfortunately, I’d never had a teacher attractive enough (or accessible enough) to actually test anything out. But after a month or so of classes with James*, my crush was growing. (I think my biceps were growing too, but honestly, that’s beside the point).
My horniness quickly overtook my laziness, and I actually had the motivation to perform well in class, throwing punches and kicks with all my might, constantly making eye contact with my new teachercrush to make sure he was watching me. To my delight, he almost always was. Call me delulu, but I started to think he might feel the same about me, and I found myself wondering if he was checking out more than just my kickboxing form.
My questions were answered one night a few weeks into my new fitness routine when I got a Facebook friend request from him. Naturally, my infatuated ass couldn’t help but interpret the request as a sign that he was interested, and I decided to make the first move.
Me: Stalker.
Him: Noooooo 😄. Very beautiful pictures though!
Me: Haha SURPRISE! I look good when I’m not covered in sweat and punching bags with poor form.
Him: Who said you didn’t look good while sweating and hitting those bags? 😝 lol.
Holy shit. My stomach dropped. I wasn’t delusional—this crush was mutual.
Over the next couple of weeks, I’d message him to check when he was teaching and plan my workout schedule around that. (Pathetic? Maybe. But with great horniness comes great shamelessness.) It felt like with every class, the sexual tension was building till it was so thick, you could cut it with a jab-cross.
When he messaged me one day asking if I wanted to stay for a double-header class and hang out while he closed up shop—casually dropping that his manager wouldn’t be around—I knew it was on. I wouldn’t be able to think straight in class, but hell yes, I’d be there.
Driving over to the studio, my adrenaline was through the roof. On top of being nervous for my physical well-being after two hours of cardio and kickboxing, I was freaking out at the idea of what was going to happen after all the other students left. Suddenly I was second-guessing all signs I’d been reading so confidently for weeks. Was this just going to be an innocent hangout? Was something more going to happen? I truly had no idea.
James kept coming over to my station during class, quietly telling me that I looked good. I knew he wasn’t referring to my boxing form because it sucked. With every glance he shot me and every compliment threw my way, I was getting more and more turned on—and more and more turned off by the idea of having to sweat through another class after this. Couldn’t we just be naked together already?
My concentration was nonexistent and my nerves had fully taken over by the time round two kicked off. There was only one other student in this class, another regular, and I wondered if they picked up on the horny, angsty vibe I could feel practically pouring out of my skin like sweat.
When the class wrapped and it was finally just the two of us, James and I sat next to each other on the studio’s crappy folding chairs exchanging some obligatory small talk—family, career, “Where’d you grow up,” etc., etc. The innocence of the conversation left me questioning his motives. Was I the only horny one here?!?
“So, how are you liking kickboxing?” he asked.
“I’m loving it,” I replied. And then, realizing that I would once again have to be the one to make the first move, I went for it: “...And my body has never looked better.”
“Oh, really?” he responded. I could tell that piqued his interest.
“You wanna see?” I asked. He nodded. I lifted up my baggy tee shirt, revealing my sports bra and the baby abs coming in just south of it, giving him a sneak peek before letting the shirt drop back down.
“Wow, you do look good...” he trailed off.
“Let me see you now,” I basically demanded.
He took off his shirt so I could see not only his six-pack but also his impressive pecs and shoulders and the tattoos that peeked out of the waistband of his shorts.
“Are there cameras in here?” I asked. My heart was racing.
“Yes...but there aren’t any in the locker room,” he responded with a mischievous smile.
No more words were needed. I turned around and walked toward the locker room. He followed. Once we were out of the cameras’ sight, he swiftly picked me up like I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he started kissing me—one of those kisses where you go HAM and devour each other right off the bat because you’re both so horny. I’d been waiting for this for what felt like forever. His tongue in my mouth. My hands all over him. Me and him alone together. It all felt surreal.
We’d been making out for just a few very hot, very heavy moments, when he started to lower me to the ground. Lying flat on the locker room floor, I knew where this was going. He knelt over me and started making his way down…which was all very exciting until I remembered that my pussy and I had been working out for the past two hours in sweaty gym clothes.
“Wait. I’m so sweaty. I just took two classes,” I said.
“I don’t care,” he stated matter-of-factly. And before I knew it, his head was in between my legs and I was moaning with pleasure. His lips and tongue on my pussy felt amazing, and I loved that he wanted to eat me out despite the fact that I was nowhere near fresh and clean. It felt so raw and animalistic in the best way.
As great as his head game was, I wanted to fuck him. I’d BEEN wanting to fuck him. I asked him if he had a condom, and he said he did...in his car.
“Go get it,” I practically ordered.
So there I lay naked on the floor, staring at the locker room ceiling in complete disbelief that this was actually happening. How was this my life right now!?
When he finally returned what felt like an hour later, he quickly got back to kissing me. He took off his pants and I grabbed his dick—and damn, was I pleasantly surprised. This penis was nowhere near average. I felt it get harder and harder as my hand tightened around it, sizing up his impressive length and girth. I wanted him inside me ASAP. And reader, my wish was granted.
I watched impatiently as he rolled the condom on and then guided himself inside me, thrusting slowly as I warmed up to his size. The hot make-outs continued, and I couldn’t keep my hands from running all over every damn inch of his ripped body like they had a mind of their own. Sure, being on the cement floor wasn’t the most comfortable, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Once the deed was done, the two of us lying together in a slightly awkward and somewhat abbreviated post-sex cuddle (again, locker room floor probs), he told me that it wasn’t his best performance. Apparently, he was nervous about his boss finding out and losing his job. He made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I promised my lips were sealed.
We left the studio and went our separate ways, hoping that his boss wouldn’t see us on the cameras after hours and wonder what the fuck was going on.
A few days later, it was back to class. It was so hot knowing we had this dirty secret, and none of the other students (or management) had a clue. Our little game continued, with him giving me preferential treatment. Except now, instead of coming up and telling me that I looked good, he’d say, low enough so only I could hear, “You look so fucking sexy.”
We planned to meet up after class at my place. Although the locker room was fun and exciting, it wasn’t exactly optimal for sex. He knocked on my door, where I greeted him freshly showered (finally) and wearing no underwear. He was still in his workout clothes, which I eagerly pulled off so I could suck his dick, excited to get him nice and hard, ready to fuck me….
Let me tell you, that man was not lying when he said the locker room sex wasn’t his best performance. I’d never fucked someone so physically fit and strong. I didn’t have to do *any* work. He was expertly lifting me up and twisting me into different positions, fucking me with his perfect dick while barely even breaking a sweat. To say I was impressed was an understatement. (Note to self: Have sex with more people who follow a strict workout regimen.)
I loved the way his thick cock stretched me out with every thrust. I was breathing heavy and moaning, thinking about how much more fun this workout was than sweating my ass off on the treadmill. It felt incredible. I couldn’t get enough.
Unfortunately, timing never seems to work in my favor. After just a couple of post-class hookups, I was heading out of the country for a preplanned month of solo travel, and when I came back, he somehow had a girlfriend. I wasn’t necessarily jealous of the relationship, but I sure as hell was salty that I wouldn’t get to experience that man’s expert sex skills any time soon, if ever again.
My love for fitness classes continued, however, even if I wasn’t getting laid after them. A true convert to Team Athlete, I ventured into other types of exercise, but it’s safe to say that no workout has ever been nearly as fun as that free trial period of one-on-one personal training sessions with James. ClassPass could never.
*Name has been changed.
