A year of training his core by slamming his crotch against a soft, bouncy cushion, strengthening his biceps by pulling on pigtails, and doing twenty hours of cardio daily had given him the action hero body he dreamt of. But today, on this last day of the program, he didn’t care about how he looked; it was the training itself he craved.
As much as he wanted to grab the bouncing titties above him, Marcus did not have the strength to make his hands leave the comfort of the soft hip-flesh and climb up the ladder of ribs. Lying on his back, he was content to watch the girl grinding on his crotch cowgirl-style as tirelessly and intensely as the day they met, moaning her throat raw as she wrung freshly produced cum out of his loins. It had been an exhausting, wonderful year; the passage of time only measured by the length of his trainer’s hair.
“Hello, I’m your personal trainer! Can I come in?”