Personal Trainers and Gym Boys- 5 Stories of Hot, Sweaty Bodies and Real Man-Sex

By John Martin

The 5- story collection of muscle freaks and gym boys - Five different tales of casual pickups, quick flings, and hot sweaty 'man-on-man' sex; fit firm bodied studs introducing their latest conquests to their own kind of butt-bruising loving.

Author John Martin with another zip busting, Bundle pack of short stories; extreme erotica that leaves nothing to the imagination. Please note: Some of these have been listed before, some even on the best sellers lists; so check titles in case you read them before; 'The Special Offer, 'I Make Them Sweat, '', 'Teach Me How', 'The Secret Party, 'My Game; My Rules.

This is graphically described sexual content suitable for mature adults and over 18's only. Looking for hardcore reading? You just found it–nut busting, sexually explicit content. Author John Martin revels in man-filth, and this latest bundle pack certainly won't disappoint.

Want real Man-Sex? You just found it – Scroll down and enjoy now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Martin
• Release date: Feb 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393741732

Book preview

1: The Special Offer

One of the things I hated most about the holidays was the specials: the offers of fifty percent off a personal training session. This usually meant I got all the people who'd never stepped foot in a gym in their entire lives aside from mandatory gym class in high school where they spent most of their time gossiping or faking doctor's notes to get out of running the mile.

It was those people that really made me hate my job, and hate working for a big company rather than being a personal trainer to the stars or something ridiculous like that. Instead, I got to dread the coming of each New Year when people I had never seen and would never see again would filter in through the gym doors wearing clothes not meant for working out and then complain when I told them they weren't properly prepared.

The holidays were also the times when people bought gym memberships with the intention of going a couple times a week, but three turned into one, and then it turned into fifty bucks taken out of their account every month for something they never used. I knew it was good for the gym, getting new clients, but sometimes I thought they did those specials just to torture me.

Personally, I liked my regular clients, the ones who showed up to their appointments every week, prepared and ready to work. I didn't like the guys who looked like they never left the couch to haul themselves in and get short of breath after two sit-ups. That wasn't why I was a personal trainer, but in my business, it was all about referrals, so I had to be nice to those lazy people who could barely drag themselves in through the door.

I always dreaded that day, though, the day the gym manager would gather us up at the monthly staff meeting and announce that they should be filling up with the New Year coming around. It always meant personal training specials and more work for me.

I always kept my mouth shut, though. I couldn't say anything against it, but one glanced exchanged with my fellow trainers at the gym told me that they thought the exact same thing as I did.

Instead of complaining, though, I just tried to throw myself into my work.

My work was generally easy enough. I was there to motivate people to actually do their work out and not quit in the middle, not to collapse on the floor after one lap around the track. Of course, a lot of the people who came in couldn't even make it that far, but it was my job to be nice and encouraging so that they wouldn't feel like a complete failure and so that they would come back even though there was no chance in hell that they would actually stay long enough to get fit.

That wasn't my job, though, not for the people on the specials, although management always tried to stress the importance of a good experience for those people since some of them would come back and pay full price for our services, and maybe those people would become people that I liked and that I looked forward to seeing every week, but in the back of my mind, I had to scoff even at myself. I had very little doubts that any of them would make it past the first session.

I was ready, though, the day that my first new client walked in the door. I had the work out schedule all ready to go, memorized. We would start out small because most people off the streets hadn't exercised since that high school gym class and didn't know the first thing about getting into shape.

So, I said, leaning over the counter to where Sidney was typing on her computer and obviously not doing anything that would be considered productive by the management. Who's first?

You have an eleven o'clock. August Peterson.

Is he a 'special'? I asked, and she barely arched an eyebrow. We called them all 'specials' because that's what they were despite that they weren't special in the least.

Yes, she replied, clicking out of her internet browser and pulling up the schedule. Be nice.

I am always nice.

It was true. I was. I was nice to a fault, even to those people who I just wanted to punch in the face when they said that they normally ate take-out for dinner every night and didn't want to get up early to go running because it was just too early. If they could have seen my work-out schedule, they would have fainted just at the idea of how much I got done in a day.

Of course, I had to look the part of a personal trainer, so I had my own routine: up at five to go for a run then home in time to shower, eat breakfast, and get to the gym at eight when my appointments usually started. I was with clients all day and then got off only so I could do my own exercise routine, eat dinner, and maybe watch some TV if I had any time left. TV just felt like such a waste, though. I really needed to get a treadmill for home so I could at least run and watch at the same time.

Sidney shot me a knowing look. Everyone in the gym knew how we personal trainers felt about people who bought the specials or made new years resolutions to stay healthy. They never lasted, and they just took up our time that would have been better spent with our serious clients.

How much you wanna bet he's a couch potato? I said, but Sidney merely turned away, clearly not interested in betting, probably because she would have lost, as she had done a considerable amount of times before.

Most of the specials were couch potatoes and I highly doubted this August guy would be any different.

I can't say I was completely shocked when the door opened a few minutes later and a guy, thin and tall, walked in. He stopped at the front desk, almost unsure, as if he wasn't sure he was even in the right place.

Can I help you? Sidney chirped, as cheery as ever.

I have an appointment with, uh, Brad? the guy asked slowly, barely glancing at me.

I, on the other hand, looked him over. He certainly wasn't a couch potato, but silly me, I hadn't taken into account the other half of the population: the nerd. This wasn't the guy who sat around all day watching television, but the one who was glued to the computer, eyes glazed over in the moon-like glow of the screen. These guys rarely came into the gym so I was certainly surprised.

August? I asked, stepping in before Sidney could point out that I was right there.

Yes.

I'm Brad.

I held out a hand to him, and he took it after a second, his eyes sliding over me briefly before he pulled his hand away.

I wasn't quite sure why he was taking a personal training session when he clearly wasn't overweight. What did he have to worry about? Most people did these to get healthier and lose weight, but he didn't need to lose any weight, and I didn't know his diet, but I assumed his metabolism was high considering how thin he was.

Come on back, I said, showing him the way around the desk