All the best and fittest people have one, I understand - certainly all the sexiest women, we are all told. Some trainers are tied to gyms; but not me - quite the opposite - I only do house calls by referral - because what I do is often so personally tailored that I wouldn't be able to satisfy your needs in a gym. Not that I really dislike the gym - but it's impossible to do the careful followup that a woman like you sometimes seems to need...

Phone ringing - it's you. "Hi Joe...can you come over at four? Oh, and would you bring some new stuff with you, perhaps some small hand weights; and, Joe, I'm getting bored with my outfits - bring some from the store for me to try on. Oh yes, I'm going to need a massage today too - bring some oil and your massage machine..." It's now only noon, and no-one else later seems interested in my superb services. The question is how do I fill the four hours of anticipation of working with you, watching you, touching you... Looks like we'll have to take you to the beach Sam. Sam, you understand, is my dog - a border collie, cute, smart, but basically (I guess he suits this private man!) a one-man dog...

Can't get my mind off you though. Shit, Joe, this is supposed to be your *business* damn it - you can't just enjoy erotic thoughts of the customers all day... Not that you should worry that anything more than a small minority of customers get anything more than exactly what you would expect: training in keeping fit. Although many of them are ex- tremely sexy - and it's sometimes very hard (extremely hard on occa- sion...) to keep myself under control - they do get exactly what they want. That's my motto, folks - unlike the Stones, you can always get what you want. Now the small minority, like you...well, come to think of it, I hope you get what you want too. I had only been to your place a couple of times, doing the genuine fitness thing, before you made it plain (well, sort of) that you might also be interested in something other than shaping your body - perhaps more a question of *both* of us enjoying your body? But so far - at least on this end - we're still in the land of hope rather than fact...

It all started, the third session I think it was, when you answered your doorbell all in a sweat, puffing and panting, and wearing the briefest little thong leotard I'd ever seen (and I've seen a few in my business). You almost dragged me into your exercise den (most of my customers are in the quite well moneyed classes, and have enough space in their 5000- sq ft palaces to put aside a room for their sports - whatever their particular sports might be). Letting go of my hand (I'm puffing too, myself, from tumbling after you with all my equipment in its heavy bag), you collapse back onto your exercise bench, head back, arms flopping to your sides, your thighs spreading apart. Heavens, I can't avoid looking - I mean I just can't - although the top of your leotard is starting to get a little damp with the sheen of your sweat, the crotch, just the narrowest little thong over your pussy, is soaking, almost dripping, wet. As you slowly regain your breath, you sit up and pull your thighs together. "Oh I'm so pleased you're here Joe...I've just been thinking about you...in a physical sort of way, if you know what I mean..." How's that for enigmatic? Did you mean what I think you did? But for the next hour you were, completely, the devoted physical-fitness freak I knew already; though I remember I kept angling myself so that I could continue to examine you between your thighs...but I didn't do anything, did I?

The next session, three days later, you were much more collected, and we were almost back to normal; indeed, although your leotard was beauti- fully tight on your body, it was really quite modest, covering you to an almost frustrating degree. Ah, but then, just before we finished up, you lay back on your bench, and parted your thighs. The crotch of the leotard was quite definitely wet, and once again not all with sweat - and not just that - I could swear that I could see the base of something slightly stretching the leotard - a hard circle, centered on your cunt. God, were you exercising with a vibrator in your pussy? Hell, I cer- tainly don't dare ask (I mean, I'm quite shy you know - except on the net!!!), and we come to the end of the session in perfectly normal fashion (well, although I never took drama classes, I did a pretty good act that day I think). But as I walk out to your door, you make it quite clear - taking my arm, whispering in my ear that you want me to come back very quickly - "come whenever I want you" were the words you used. Hmmm!

And now it's today, and Sam is now pooped from his walk, and there are still two hours until I knock on your door, see you, train you, touch you, massage you...and (nothing like being optimistic!) pleasure you. First, a shower, then a freshly laundered thong, sweatsuit, my new sneaks. Then off to the fitness store to get your weights; I choose them very carefully, and mustn't forget some outfits for you to try. A number of my customers like me to be their supply house, and the woman in the store (wow, is she ever cute! - any chance of making you jeal- ous?!!) is quite used to me taking not just weights, bars, machines, etc. on sale or return, but leotards, tights, thongs, bras, and so forth too. No, I don't get a commission, just the pleasure of watching my customers select stuff, and then sometimes show me what they like to wear. But, like I said, without a clear indication of interest I'm really very well behaved; but that doesn't mean I don't like to watch, and fantasize a bit, does it?

Leaving the store with a bagful of stuff, I'm already starting to get rather excited by the thought of the afternoon (hey, how about an eve- ning too? - no, let's not get silly here Joe!!). Hop into the old TBird (a turbo-bird, now middle-aged but still fast given the rare opportuni- ty), crank it up, and set off. Traffic on the freeway is, as usual, moseying along in its normal torpid mode, and it's going to take me 45 minutes to get there. Change the station...get rid of that epileptic rapcrap...ah! the Stones, their best ever - Gimme Shelter (and if I don't get some comments on that from my readers, what will I get com- ments on?!). Then a CD - for a Stones followup would you believe Ozawa conducting Berlioz (march to the scaffold, 1789 and all that) at earth- quake volume down the pike? Arriving at your door I've finally managed to lay myself back a little; how else to cope with the anticipation of you?

Thank goodness for my tight little thong keeping me well under control - you're wearing almost nothing...no, it's definitely more sexy than nothing...do you really call that exercise-wear? And you want more outfits because you're bored with this one and its fellows? Expect me to believe that? Yeah!! Ah, but I have to tell my readers what you are wearing...a low cut spandex bra, pure glossy black, tight on your breasts, lifting them so that the creamy flesh is almost spilling out from the cups, tight on your thrusting nipples; and a tiny little con- trasting thong, pure glossy white, unlined, almost transparent - cer- tainly sheer enough that I'm fairly sure that it's clinging to your skin, and not to any hair...ah, you beautiful woman, you shave? Mmmmm, I like that.

"I think today, Joe, I'd like to just give you a demo, show you where I am with your training, can I do that for you?" And you lead me into your den. You start on your bench, your thighs spread on the shiny vinyl seat...I notice no sign of anything thrusting from your pussy today! You take the bar and press up; as you do your thighs tighten, and I admire their tautness; but more distractingly your beautifully prominent mound thrusting through your thong. As you press the bar high, your breasts are squeezed between your arms, the warm cleavage creamy and warm before my eyes. "How was that Joe?" Oh my...gulp... "Fantastic, you're really improving, your body's getting in great shape..." That's about the extent of my speaking abilities at this moment. And then the zinger - "Do you like my body Joe?" Well, there's an difficult question if I ever heard one, given the current situa- tion...are we talking physically here, or sexually? "Gorgeous, gorgeous - you must have been working so hard with my instructions these last couple of weeks." Ha! gotcha, my lovely lady! Did I just write *my* lovely lady? Perhaps you're getting a bit ahead of yourself here Joe?

Next some floor work...on your side on the mat, lifting, exercising those thighs, tightening them, firming them. "Get down by my feet Joe - make sure I'm doing this right..." and with that you lift your leg, bringing it high, so high. Your muscles flex - absolutely beautiful I must admit - but I scarcely notice; my eyes are absolutely glued to the crotch of your thong, wet with your sweat - and who knows what else; and you get wetter, and the tight spandex turns almost transparent, and I can see your slit, I can see your lips, swollen, pressing through... You turn over and exercise your other leg...you're even wetter now, the tiny little thong starting to slip into your slit. As your leg reaches up, a sudden glimpse of a tiny protuberance through the material, be- tween your lips - god, your clit, already erect - and wet.

"How about taking off your sweats Joe? I would like to see what sort of shape you're in, see how to do it, you know?" Oh my - my hopes, and my optimistic cock, are climbing somewhere towards the ceiling. I slip out of the shirt, and then the pants. Just my thong, and definitely swollen rather more than usual. "Mmmmmm, nice body Joe...show me how to do this exercise, would you?" So I lie back on the mat, on my side, and repeat it, carefully trying to get the form just right - the knee bent, the focus on the outer thigh. And as I do you slide down the mat, facing me, and you stretch out your hand and touch my thigh. "Mmmmmm, Joe, I love those hard muscles". Your fingers, initially on the outside of my thigh, slip around, sliding up from my knee, your fingernails doing incredible things to the nerves in my skin. All the way up, your fin- gertips sliding under the waistband of my thong, still sliding up, till your fingertips are above my hips, stretched up on my stomach. Your wrist inside the leg opening is pulling the material tight on my cock and my balls, and I'm - perhaps rather naturally, one might say? - getting harder. You make no secret of looking at the swelling bulge, but then you suddenly look up and say "how about some weights Joe?" Shit..! Well, you are the piper I guess...and your tune is quite at- tractive...

I lean back - my bag's on the floor behind me - and get out your new weights. They're really quite small, just the shaft with small knobs each end to stop them sliding out of your hand. "Let me show you Joe." And you take two of the weights and, grabbing your bottle of oil, pour some oil on them, circling your fingers and hands around the shaft and the ends, spreading the oil all over them. Oh my god... "Watch me - watch how I want to use them..." You take one and slide it down over your flat belly, sliding down to the inside of your lifted thigh. Then you reverse direction, bringing the head to the mound of your pussy. You rub the head of the weight on your mound, then, twisting so that you're lying almost on your back, you slip your other hand down to lift the crotch of your thong, sliding the head of the weight inside the spandex. "Could you help me with the rest please Joe? No, don't let it slip it out..."

I take the weight from your fingers, and as I do you pull your thong away from your pussy, baring your mound, your oily slit, your shaven, silky-smooth sex. "Inside me Joe, but slowly, slowly..." I rub the knob of the weight into your slit, creamy with oil, and, wet with your own slippery juices. You shudder quickly, as the head spreads the fleshy slit of your mound, and the hard cold metal touches your clito- ris. I slide the weight further down, and invade you, the cold knob slowly spreading your labia, separating them, splitting them, stretched and engorged and pink and wet. A slow but firm thrust slides the knob into your cunt, a sudden release of constriction as it slips past your lips. Deeper inside you, until all that's showing is the knob of the other end, nestled between your lips. Oh! you're so wet now - your pussy juice coating the knob of the weight. "Now a weight exercise for you to watch Joe...I want you to watch and check whether I'm using my muscles just as you would want."

You let the spandex of your thong slip back over your pussy, and you snug it up tight on your hips, so that the material holds the weight in place in your vagina. You lie back on the mat, and spreading your thighs and bringing your feet back almost back under your buttocks, you arch off the floor...rising, falling, thrusting, releasing. With each movement, the head of the weight pushes against the material, stretching it tight, before you release and fall back to the floor; then tightening again, thrusting up. What an exercise - perfect training - and I thought I was supposed to be in charge here too...

"Now your massage machine Joe..." I get it out, hop up and plug it in (mucho horsepower, this thing). "A soft head Joe, perhaps that rubber cup...mmmmm... Now turn it on, touch it to me...mmmmmm...now slowly down to my pussy..." In a moment the cup is vibrating gently against the head of the weight nestling between your lips, and your head is back, your mouth open, the tip of your tongue on your lips, your breath- ing getting shallower. I take the liberty (after all, I have been very obedient so far, piper lady!) of slipping my hands into your thong and pulling it down over you hips, down your legs, off your feet. I put the palms of my hands between your thighs and spread them - your head is still back, that smile on your open lips - and I touch the massager to the weight again, this time pressing it firmly between your lips. I just hold it there, moving it hardly at all beyond a slow tiny side-to- side movement. I wonder what it feels like inside you, the hard knob at the other end deep inside you, vibrating in your cunt. Judging by your reaction, I guess pretty nice, thank you! "Wait Joe, stop a moment Joe." I lift the head of the machine from you, and you lean over to root in my bag for a small weight, barely a pound. "In my ass Joe, put some oil on...gently into my butthole...ahhhhh..." It slips in with barely any pressure, your tight anal ring yielding easily to the hard smooth invasion of your anus. "Now massage them both..." The head of the massager is large enough to touch both together, and I press it to you, turning it up. Grasping the backs of your thighs in your hands, you bring them right back, relishing the building pleasure of the vi- brating stimulation. Your labia are getting even wetter, and swelling around the weight in your cunt, pushing out...you can't hold it much longer can you...and you finally come. As you reach orgasm, I lift the massager head from your labia a centimeter or so, and watch as you suddenly thrust the weight out of your cunt with the strength of your orgasm, so that it shoots out and hits the still-vibrating head; then I push it back it into you - deep and hard, ready for your next orgasmic hit... Six or seven times you push it out in your oblivion, and I thrust it back into you...until you finally let your thighs drop, and I let the weight slip out of your cunt with a slow, succulent wet plop. Slipping its small brother from your ass, I switch off the massager, and all is suddenly quiet...just the sound of your breathing, deeper, slow- ing. The sweat on your body is fresh, glistening, cooling your excite- ment...

You lie there for several minutes, slowly relaxing, occasionally stretching your legs, parting them, extending them - a proper cooldown, just as we trainers advise. "I think maybe my weight training was successful Joe; I want you to think about what should be next on your program for me - I certainly don't want to stop now. Hey Joe, maybe I can give you some personal training next time?! Oh, and by the way, could you leave the outfits you brought for me...I'd like to look at them and perhaps try a few on. I expect my girlfriend would like to try some too. But that's enough for today...could you come over on Satur- day?"

Oh, shit, damn it, I guess that's it, and all I did was get very hard and really very wet...no, not quite all, Joe - you also got paid quite handsomely my friend - an appropriate fee for service rendered, wouldn't you say? I pick up my sweats and get into them, covering my tight wet thong from you...I guess that'll have to wait. On the other hand, one might say (politician talk) the situation has considerable promise!

Drive home, feed Sam, but, damn it, I'm still horny as hell, can't get my mind off you...

- - - - - - - - - -

Time for a little exercise myself. I strip off my sweats, lie down on my weight machine. Damn it!...still the thought of the erotic delight the massager gave you is getting me aroused; I can feel my cock starting to swell, the tightening mound. I go get the machine and plug it in. I get back on my exercise machine and lay back on the bench, my feet on the floor on either side, my thighs spread, just my thong. I put a smooth round head on the massager and spread some oil on it. Then I turn it on, set on low, and run the swollen head up my stomach. As the oil spreads I pour more on to keep my skin smooth and lubricated - and sensitive. Slowly, taking lots of meandering detours, I slip the vi- brating heard up my stomach to my chest, to my nipples. Thinking of you, piper lady! My nipples are getting hard under the ministrations of the machine, thoughts of your erotic tune in my head. Then more mean- dering - up to my neck, over my shoulders, down my arms, then up the side of my body, under my arms, sensitive, sensual...

I take another head - ah, the one you liked in your "weight training", the soft rubber cup; it has tiny little bumps all over it - and put it on the machine. It feels like so many tiny fingertips kneading my skin. I reach down and start to massage my thighs, starting behind my knees, dragging the head slowly up, feeling the vibrating knobs tugging at my muscles, tugging at my skin. Up the inside of my thighs, to the thong between my thighs. The little bumps grab on the spandex, making the material stretch. With the head on the inside of my thighs I feel the vibrations through my skin, humming up inside me over my cock and my balls. At the apex of my thigh I turn the head, and hold it to the swell of my tightening balls; I turn the setting up a notch - pressing a little harder, I slide the head down under my balls so that the tugging, vibrating material stretches tighter on my ever-swelling cock. The head is now beneath my balls, massaging the extra-sensitive spot just forward of my ass. I can feel the tight tug of my thong in the crack of my ass, concentrating the waves of pleasurable friction on my butthole. I feel a first, sudden, tight little constriction in the base of my cock, and feel with pleasure the first drop of cum juice oozing from the head of my cock into my thong, soaking through the material. I slide the head up over my balls, and turn the machine up another notch. Using the head as a sort-of pleasure prod, I rub the head of my cock out of its tight swollen curl, letting it straighten and stiffen to its full length, escaping from the little triangle of my thong, until it's lying flat on my hard stomach, thick and hard.

With a long, slow, stroking motion, I start gliding the head of the vibrator up and down the length of my hot engorged meat, down to cup my balls in the soft rubber of the head, then slowly, slowly, up the whole length to the head. Thinking of your body... My glans swells even more, thicker and thicker. As I touch it with the head of the machine I shudder and another little drop of precum soaks out from my slit, a wonderfully slippery thick lubricant for the vibrating head. Thinking of your pleasure from this machine later my sweet trainee! I'm slowly moving the wet cup in little circles over my swollen cockhead, and I start to feel my orgasm building...oh the intense pleasure...and I'm nearly there...can't stop... The explosion starts deep in the root, and I feel the sudden pressure forcing the cum up my shaft, squirting from deep inside. I clamp the vibrating head down on my glans, and release myself to the pleasure throes of my orgasm - a sudden flood of come ejaculating from my cock, coating the vibrating head in a thick stream of white semen, spermy, hot. After the first enormous convulsion, another hard contraction deep in the base of my cock, and another flood of come. And another, and another, and - oh god - another... I turn the vibrator down a few notches, leaving it pressed to my penis, slowly softening, oozing gently, the head vibrating in the wet lake of come on my belly, filling my navel, spreading out across my hips...

But how long is it to Saturday you temptress?