Cindy gets to know her younger new trainer, We all know it’s taboo for a spouse to train someone from the opposite sex for obvious reasons. My husband recently acquired a cute red-head to help him out on Sundays and Wednesdays. He’s thirty-four, two years younger than me, and is actually already in great shape. He jogs, lifts weekly, and eats healthy. That’s why my mother was always bothered by him. She thinks he’s staying in good shape so he can launch to the next woman once I get too old. Thanks, Mom. You always were a continuing source of inspiration.
Despite that kind of gossip, my husband didn’t cheat on me with his adorable new personal trainer. I, on the other hand, am not so innocent. I think I came a little when I met Bradley Jones for the first time and I couldn’t place why initially. In hindsight, I have an intuition for certain qualities in men. Bradley had a great smile, fantastic blond and brown hair, and green eyes.
We first met at the fitness club around the block from me that I like to hit twice a week for cardio. He had just finished in the showers and was closing the door with his white towel around his waist. He didn’t have a shirt, and I realized too late that I was staring at his abs. I wasn’t just staring, I was daydreaming. I had the mental image of laying on his stomach, him brushing my hair as we lay in bed during an endless uneventful afternoon of pure sex.
“Hey, name’s Bradley.” Bradley gave me a cheesy grin and stuck out his hand. I shook it, speechless. My face was beginning to turn red as he clutched one fist in the makeshift band of his towel. He was naked under that towel. No underwear, just pure manhood.
“Cindy.” I said at last.
“Cute.” He said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you Korean?”
I cocked my brow. “I am.”
“Annyeong Haseo!” He said and my heart skipped a beat. That’s the only thing I knew in Korean and he said it perfectly. “I learned to say hello in about thirty different languages when I was a kid.”
“You’re still a kid.” I said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.” He said and my heart dropped. Twenty four. He was twelve years younger than me. That should have been the biggest turn-off but it wasn’t. Something about him being a little younger–not too young; mature enough to be an adult–made it just the right kind of sexy. His body was amazing, like he was born doing crunches and heavy curls. God, just thinking about him gets me going again.
“Well, your mother is a very lucky woman to have such a talented young man for a son.” I dropped the age-gap from the get-go. Fantasizing aside, I was almost old enough to be his mother. And nothing could ever really happen between me and this kid who was probably still in college.
I thought he went to scratch behind his ear, but did that magic trick that’s usually annoying where the person pulls something out from behind his or your ear and it’s supposed to be impressive. This time it really was impressive, since he wasn’t wearing a shirt, or pants, and still ripped like a Navy SEAL who’d just finished Hellweek. Bradley handed me a business card for his personal training business. It was simple, with just his company name, Bradley Training LLC., and phone number.
“I saw you working out alone with just cardio down there.” He said. “Give me a ring next time and I’ll put you on a regime that’ll keep you lookin’ like you look to me, and that’s twenty-five.”
I really hope I didn’t swoon, as overly flattering as it was. I was obviously much older, but I pocketed his card and bid him farewell for the day. It wasn’t until I saw my husband, Max, and his red-headed bimbo panting after a long run that I called Bradley up and told him I’d take him up on his offer. He gave me his hourly rate which was… ambitious, but hearing Clara and Max laugh about their similar theories on Stranger Things made me schedule the appointment for Tuesday.
I’ll be honest: Bradley had a gift when it came to personal training. I’ve never had or needed one since. The trick was simple enough and I got to experience it first-hand on our first go-around. Cardio for twenty minutes, three rounds of weights with five minutes of cardio in between, and a fourth round if you’re feeling bold. You could do all your body parts in one day if you wanted to waste yourself by hitting all of them for three rounds, but usually we split it over three days.
For a golden two months, my Bradley days were my favorite days. He would massage my legs, feet, and back, and apply the right pressure to my pressure points in order to release the pent up stress in my body. I’d be so loose and refreshed after leaving the gym, I didn’t even care once I came home to find Max and Clara on our love-seat watching the last Star-Wars movie after they finished their run one afternoon.
They’d cooked some popcorn, but weren’t touching and… perhaps I mistook that seemingly intentional placement of space as they were fucking behind my back and trying to convince me otherwise. They weren’t fucking, but at that time I was positive they were. That’s when I turned to the dark side.
“Nine,” said Bradley on my next Bradley day as I pressed fifty pounds. I know that’s not much, but it was a lot for me. “And ten.” I put the bar back on the notches that held it with Bradley’s help and sat up. I drank a little water and screwed the cap back on.
“That’s all?” I sighed.
“That’s all.” Bradley said. He wore yellow trunks and a sky blue shirt that clung to his arms and chest and diaphragm. I wanted him and it had been three weeks since Max had gotten on top of me for his three minute ride of glory. We were alone in the weight room, which almost never happened. “How do you feel?” He put his hands on his hips.
I started breathing heavily. My heart was beating like a hammer in my chest as I nodded and took another awkward swig from my water bottle. “Good just… I don’t know. I feel strange.” I stood up and looked to him.
I still don’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was mutual. He went and I went, our lips locked and I sank my fingers into his perfect lower back. Bradley held me by my arms before moving his hands up my neck to clutch my cheek and neck. He moved close to me as our lips lashed. I could feel what I thought was his leg, but it then realized that Bradley was rock hard.
I never thought of myself as a sexy woman. I’m average height for a Korean female, which is about five feet, five inches. I had long black hair that was done up in a knot behind my head and chocolate brown, almond-shaped eyes. Having run and stretched regularly, my body was limber and toned. My breasts were probably the least impressive part of me, but I didn’t care enough to do anything about them. The fantasies of a potential surgery ended with my twenties. Besides, I was happily married so I had no reason to want for a more appealing body. That didn’t explain why I was locked in a passionate embrace with a young man who was five years old when I had sex for the first time.
“Cindy,” Bradley pulled away. “I have a girlfriend.”
“I have a husband.” I whispered and pulled him back to me. His perfect lips were like a drug or a warm bath on a cold winter night. I didn’t want to leave the comfort and warmth of him. Bradley put his arm around my back as he gently pressed me up against the wall of the weight room.
“You have no idea how hard it’s been not to kiss you.” Bradley whispered and kissed my neck. I could feel his soft tongue lapping my jugular, flooding me with longing. His hand was on my small breast, massaging before he thumbed and pinched my nipple through my bra. His cock was between my legs and poking me through my and his pants. God he was huge. My hand went to that swollen bulge. I squeezed and Bradley reflexively looked to the ceiling. This Greek God of a man wanted to fuck and fill me with everything he had. Not just anyone: me. He wanted me.