One day, my boyfriend Troy was off somewhere and I was craving late-night munchies, so I headed over to Norms. Norms are those classic California diners you may have seen that are famous for their neon signs, large glass windows, and the slogan, “We never close.”
I think Norms is mentioned in a Tom Waits song about burgers and fries and some kind of pie … a la mode. The food is nothing special, but it is cheap and edible (and they are always open).
No matter what time you go, Norms is always busy. Lots of people get hungry at weird times and they know that they can always get a plate full of food for a few bucks at Norms.
So, I was in Norms waiting for my name to be called and I noticed this contest where you put your name in a box for a chance to win a free gym membership. I always wanted to put some muscles on my skinny arms, so I dropped my name in the box and, a few days later, I got a phone call telling me that I had won a three-month trial membership including a private session with a personal trainer.
I later found out that these aren’t really contests—everyone who puts a phone number in the box gets called. The gym is just fishing for customers and hoping that some people who try the trial membership will sign up for a real membership for $29.95 a month.
Once they get that monthly charge on your credit card, you forget about it and stop going to the club. So, you end up paying $29.95 a month for nothing. You hardly notice the small charge, but they appreciate hundreds of people paying $29.95 every month.
Anyway, I didn’t know any of this when they called me and I thought I had won a real drawing.
Even better, I could walk to the club from the grove house, which made it super convenient. About an hour after the phone call, I headed on over in some bright blue lycra shorts and a loose t-shirt. I told the lady at the front desk that I won the contest. She gave me a smile and told me that Eric would give me a tour.
I had to admit that it was a pretty nice place. Outside, there is an Olympic pool and a bunch of really nice tennis courts. Inside, there is a cardio room with all sorts of stationary bikes, treadmills, rowing machines, and stair climbers.
The weight room has old-school weights and dozens of space-age machines for working on pretty much every muscle in your body, even some muscles I didn’t know I had.
The machines are numbered so that you can go through the same workout every time, starting with machine 1, then 2, and so on.
There are also a dozen racquetball courts and some private rooms for aerobics, yoga, and Zumba (whatever that is). There are rooms for haircuts and massages, too.
The locker rooms are clean (at least the ladies’ room is), with private showers. (Why is it that women always have private showers? Are we not supposed to see what normal female bodies look like?)
It’s a great club and I might have signed up, but it turned out that it was $150 a month, instead of the $29.95 I was expecting.
I’m thinking the reason the price is so high is that they want to keep out people like me. This way, the lawyers, doctors, and bankers can network with each other without wasting their time talking to somebody who is a nobody.
After the tour, Eric brought me over to Tammy, who was going to be my personal trainer for an hour. The first thing I noticed is that, for a girl, Tammy was totally buff.
She was wearing a black tank top that showed off her arms real well. She didn’t have gross, bulging muscles like those guys who work out all the time, but they weren’t soft and mushy like most girls’ arms (including mine). They were lean and firm and expanded a little bit every time she moved her arms.
Her tits must have been in an industrial sports bra because there was absolutely no wiggle or jiggle when she moved.
The other thing I noticed was that she had a nice shelf for a white girl.
There’s this guy Jerry who lives up in Eagle Village and he taught me all about shelves. He used to coach a girls’ track team in the San Fernando Valley that went 30-something years without ever losing a track meet.
He said his secret was scouting. He would go to soccer games, basketball games, even city parks, looking for girls who were built for running. One thing he looked for was long achilles tendons. Another was a shelf, which is when a skinny girl’s butt sticks out behind her like a shelf you could put a cup of coffee on.
Jerry would sometimes get in a bit of trouble wandering around looking at little girls’ butts like he was some kind of pervert. But he was a smooth talker and he had a pocketful of cards that said Falcon Track Club, so he never got arrested or anything and he found a bunch of girls that he turned into track champions.
He even had three or four girls go to the Olympics. But then one of them admitted to taking steroids and Jerry had to quit coaching even though he swore he knew nothing about it. Now, he hangs around Eagle Village yakking about shelf-butts and his glory days.
I Escort Esenyurt don’t have a shelf. I barely have a butt, almost like I’m Asian—which I’m not. You mostly find big shelves on black girls but, like I said, Tammy is white and she had a real nice shelf.
I’m happy with my butt the way it is, but I would love to have arms like Tammy. I told her this and she smiled and took me to the weight room.
The first machine she showed me was one where you lie on your back and lift this bar with your arms. Tammy set the weight at 40 pounds and did 10 reps to show me the right form. I couldn’t even budge the bar, so we set it at 20 pounds and I was able to do 7 reps while Tammy kept her hands on my thighs. I thought she was trying to keep me from lifting my legs, but I soon started wondering.
For the next machine, you spread your arms and bring two cables together that are carrying weights. This time Tammy stood behind me and put her hands on my chest, supposedly to keep me from using my back instead of my arms to move the weights. Her fingers were really close to my tits and I wondered if she did that on purpose.
Machine after machine, she kept touching me—my back, my shoulders, my tummy, my butt. Most of the time, her fingers were still, but sometimes she would move her fingers around in a light massage. She kept saying, “How does that feel?” and I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the weights or her fingers.
I didn’t answer and she must have interpreted that as, “I love it!” because she kept getting bolder and bolder.
We got to this one machine where you sit in a chair with cushions that you can either put on the inside or outside of your legs. When the cushions are on the outside, you start with your legs together and spread them, pushing against the cushions. When the cushions are inside your legs, you start with your legs spread and close your legs.
I was having trouble with the one where you are supposed to spread your legs, probably because Tammy set the weight too high. Instead of adjusting the weight, she put her hands between my legs to help me spread them. I swear to god, she rubbed my mound lightly while she spread my legs open and closed, open and closed.
Then she said, “This is a great exercise! Your boyfriend will love it.”
At first, I didn’t know why she was talking about my boyfriend while she was “accidentally” rubbing my pussy.
Then I figured it out. She was hoping I would say that I don’t like boys, and then she and I could take it from there.
It felt nice having my pussy touched, but I wasn’t up for anything more than that, so I said, “I’m tired. I need to jump in the pool.”
I hopped out of the chair, thanked Tammy, and headed for the locker room to change into my bathing suit. I was real happy she didn’t follow me into the locker room.
Afterward, I got to thinking that maybe all that touching really was accidental. So, every time I worked out in the weight room, I kept an eye on Tammy.
Sure enough, she had her hands all over the good looking girls. With the old bags and the guys, Tammy kept her hands to herself.
So, I know I wasn’t imagining that she had more than weight training on her mind when she did her little session with me.
One time, near the end of my trial period at the club, I was in the cardio room, using a rowing machine and watching NCIS. I was wearing my blue lycra shorts and a loose cotton t-shirt that was brushing my nipples with every stroke. It felt great and my nipples were big and full.
The next thing I know, a guy got on the rower next to me and turned his TV to NCIS, too. After a while, I took a better look and it was the guy I had seen a while back disrupt a fancy party by laughing too loudly at the host! I know he caught me staring at him because he smiled and there was nothing funny going on in the TV show. At least he didn’t start laughing again.
I didn’t say anything, just minded my own business. He didn’t say anything either, but I could see him sneaking peaks at my bouncing tits.
I was going 25 strokes a minute and he started going 25, too, matching me stroke for stroke, up and back together, up and back together. I picked the pace up to 30 and he picked it up too, still matching me up and back. I went to 35, then 40, and he went right with me.
It was like some sort of super sex where we went faster and faster, but stayed in perfect sync. Finally, I slowed down, and then stopped.
The sweat was running off my whole body and I looked like a hot girl in a wet t-shirt contest, with my shirt stuck to my body and my big-nippled titties poking out for everyone to see. I know he noticed because he had a huge grin on his face.
I didn’t try to cover up my tits and he didn’t try to cover up his smile.
Instead, he said, “Let’s go for a swim.” I said, “Great idea.”
I got to the pool first and took my time adjusting my goggles because Escort Avcılar I wanted to see what he looked like with his shirt off. Well, he showed up in one of those tight Speedo suits they wear in the Olympics. His tummy was ripped and he had this huge bulge between his legs. I thought maybe he had a sock stuck in there, but I was hoping it was all man-meat.
He checked me out too. I was wearing a thin one-piece suit with a nice nipple show up top and a big camel toe between my legs. He looked at my face. Then my breasts. On to my pussy, my legs, and back to my face. He smiled, so I guess he liked what he saw.
We swam some laps. I tried to keep up with him, but he was just too strong. He was probably showing off, but it was working.
After a while, I got out and sat in a pool chair watching him swim. He was really strong and graceful slicing through the water, not at all like those people who have trouble lifting their arms out of the water or those clumsy dorks who splash water with every stroke. It was damn sexy.
When he realized that I was out of the pool, he got out, too. Later, he told me the reason he got out was that he didn’t want me running off and him never seeing me again.
When he pulled himself out of the pool, he looked even more buff, probably from his muscles being stretched by the swimming and because water was dripping off his gorgeous body. He still had a huge bulge between his legs.
Isn’t there supposed to be a Shrinkage Factor when guys get in the water? If his snake had shrunk, what the hell did it look like fully grown?
He took a long look at my camel toe. I looked at him looking at me, and he didn’t bother pretending that he wasn’t staring. I don’t know exactly what he was thinking but, I swear to god, he licked his lips. Then he said, “Let’s try the Jacuzzi.”
I said, “Sure.” I needed to do some detective work.
We got into a Jacuzzi that was empty, and he told me his name was Lenny Goodman and he grew up in Beverly Hills. He had just graduated from Chicago Law School and had come to Fairvalley to work for one of the big law firms: “Not Gemayel!”
He let me know that he was single and staying in a hotel until he could buy a house.
I needed to send him a clear signal, too, so I rubbed the back of my neck and arched my back, pushing my tits against my thin bathing suit. Then I adjusted my bathing suit by pinching both of my nipples real hard. He just smiled, but I know he received the message loud and clear.
The bubbles were going nuts and I couldn’t really see anything under the water, but I felt something touching my leg—probably his leg and probably not by accident.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I just had to know what was inside his Speedos, so I put my hand in his lap and squeezed his cock.
He didn’t flinch. He just put his hands behind his head and smiled, like he was saying, “Be my guest.”
It wasn’t a sock. More like a big snake, curled up and ready to strike when it found its prey, which would be me. As I squeezed it, the snake started to uncoil.
After a few minutes of me playing with his snake, he flashed me his big smile again and said, “Let me show you where I’m staying. It’s a really great hotel.” I’m thinking, yeah, and show me something else too.
I didn’t say yes or no. I just bounced out of the Jacuzzi and said, “I’ll meet you in front.”
He bounced out, too, and grabbed a towel to cover up the snake in his trunks.
When I showered, dressed, and went to the front of the club, I didn’t see him anywhere. I didn’t think he had ditched me, so I just waited.
Then he drove up in a white Alpha Romeo convertible. I climbed in and off we went, neither of us saying anything all the way to his hotel.
He parked his car and started walking toward the hotel. I followed, still neither of us saying anything.
He was right about it being a nice hotel. When he opened the door to his room, I could see right away that it was way nicer than any place I’d ever stayed. There was a giant bedroom with a king size bed and a separate area with a big table and an expensive computer. A nice bathroom full of free goodies, like soaps, lotions, shower cap, nail file, and a sewing kit. Expensive furniture. Classy art. Huge sliding glass doors facing Eagle Mountain.
Yeah, I could get used to this. If I could afford it, which I couldn’t. Not even close.
Still, here we were and nobody’s talking. Lenny closed the door and stood in front of me, real close. I was waiting for him to kiss me. Instead, he put his hand on my head and pushed me down to my knees.
I got the message, but I was fine with it. I was dying to check out the snake hiding in his pants.
Once I was on my knees, I unzipped him and pulled the snake out. Even semi-hard, it was a monster. My fingers ran up and down his shaft and I swirled my tongue around the head. The snake kept growing.
I stared at it in amazement while I licked and kissed it, almost like I was worshipping a snake-god as it grew bigger and harder.
Lenny put both his hands on my head and shoved the snake deep in my mouth.
There was no way I could fit the whole thing in my mouth, so I wrapped one hand around it to keep Lenny from forcing it all the way in.
I made a big “O” with my lips and he grabbed my hair with both hands, face fucking me.
After a few minutes of this, he erupted with big squirts splashing off the back of my throat. I thought I was going to gag, but he held my hair tightly and wouldn’t let me pull my mouth away. So, I swallowed. What else was I going to do?
Then Lenny went over to the bed and lay down, still fully clothed, and fell asleep. I rinsed my mouth out and lay down next to him. I took care of business, being careful not to scream and wake him. Then I dozed off.
When I woke up, Lenny was sitting on my chest with his pants off and a big grin on his handsome face, moving the tip of his cock back and forth across my lips. I opened my mouth and in it went.
It got real big, real fast.
While I was busy sucking his cock, Lenny put his arms behind him and worked my titties good, squeezing the flesh while he pinched and twisted my nipples.
I was squirming like nuts, but I made sure to keep one hand on that monster cock so that he couldn’t ram it all the way in. He finally came, and again I swallowed.
After Lenny came, he kept his cock in my mouth while he stared at me and smirked. I thought that he wanted me to suck him until he got hard again, but he pulled the snake out of my mouth and rolled off me.
He told me to take off all my clothes and I did, though I had no idea what he had planned next.
When I was bare-ass naked, he told me to lie on my tummy with my legs spread. Oh shit. Was I going to get fucked in the ass with that monster?
I did what I was told. I lay down with my legs spread and my ass afraid for its life. It turned out that Lenny wanted to give me a massage.
He was good. Okay, great. Okay, incredible.
His fingers were rose petals softly brushing against my skin and making it awaken and tingle. He touched everything, even my fingers, my toes, and my hair. I was drifted off into one of those semi-conscious states where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s a dream. I thought about mountains and blue skies and birds and snakes.
After several minutes of rose petals, Lenny switched to a deep massage. His powerful hands started at my head. I had never had my head massaged before and it was great! Who knew?
He ran his fingers though my hair, stretching and compressing my scalp. Next was my face. He worked on my forehead, around my eyes, my cheeks, my ears. He finished with his fingers caressing my lips—gentle brush strokes that made my lips shiver. He turned my whole face into an erogenous zone.
Lenny moved to my neck and then my shoulders, rubbing and kneading my muscles to the brink of pain, and then relaxation when his hands pulled back and moved on.
He worked his way patiently down to the small of my back. He kept going—my bum, my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my feet. My mind floated back and forth between exquisite torture and deep calm.
Lenny used his powerful fingers to push and pull and prod the soles of my feet. It was painful and wonderful. He squeezed, twisted, and rolled each toe, one by one, between his finger and thumb.
He moved back up to my ankles and then my calves, pushing, pressing and rolling my muscles. He worked the back of my thighs, moving higher and higher.
Pretty soon he was deep-rubbing the soft insides of my thighs while his thumbs flicked my pussy opening. My legs were trembling and I was dripping.
I used my pussy muscles to open and close my love channel, hoping Lenny would stop teasing me and slip his cock inside, or at least his powerful fingers.
Instead, he rolled me over on my back.
I desperately hoped that he was ready to mount me.
Instead, he moved one hand to my pussy and his other hand to my titties.
It was real hard to keep track of what he was doing, but it was spectacular. I know he squeezed my tits extra hard because they were really red afterward and my nipples hurt like heck. Down south, he had his thumb working my clit while two or three fingers were probing, rubbing, and tapping my G-spot.
My feet were locked, my toes were clenched, and my thighs were shaking. My pussy was throbbing and then convulsing, and I could feel my vagina muscles contract again and again. I had no control over my body.
I don’t know how many times I came; it was just one long blur. I started screaming and I didn’t stop for quite a while. Finally, I collapsed and whimpered, “No more, please no more.”
He slowly pulled his hands away, making sure to drag his fingers across my shaking body.
He finally said something, the first thing he had said since we left the club: “Amazing. Fucking amazing.”
I desperately wanted to sleep, but Lenny said he had to go look at a house he was thinking about buying. He went into the bathroom to shower and I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew Lenny was shaking me hard and saying, “Come look with me.” It wasn’t a question.