A Real Athlete  Pt. 4  
by Musclehead



Mickey was unconscious, having passed out from the intensity of an orgasm that
had lasted longer than any in his life, having gotten stronger as it went
along, rather than waning, as all the blood rushed from his head into his
cock. And though he was out cold, his cock still twitched, still remained rock
hard. The cause of this most awesome sexual experience of his life, was still
sitting on him, still holding that throbbing cock in her muscular pussy,
continuing to milk him, still squeezing, still bouncing up and down, amazingly
after having several more intense sexual nirvanas herself, causing this man
underneath her to explode once again. He must have been dreaming about her,
because he still had not regain consciousness. Or maybe it was merely the
physical stimulation. Who knows?

Sarah finally calmed down from the sexual storm that had enveloped her and
looked down at Mickey's handsome face, serene as he remained in another world.
She got off him and as she stood, huge amounts of semen escaped and oozed down
her legs, mixing with the sweat. She felt guilty that she had just used him
for some further sexual satisfaction even as he remained unconscious. But as
she looked down at him, she felt reassured that he had had the time of his
life and probably wouldn't have minded.

Suddenly she noticed how stifling the air was in the gym and how much she
wanted to clean up. She found the locker room and took a long, soothing
shower. While the hot water ran over her strong body, her mind wandered to
Trish. She was pretty sure that Trish wouldn't have had even a second thought
about using a guy's cock for her own pleasure. But the two of them were very
different people. Luckily she had brought a change of clothes, as the one she
had worn were wet and sticky. She put on her cutoffs and a fresh tank-top, not
as tight as the pink wifebeater. But it didn't matter. She still looked
stunning.

As she came back through the gym, Mickey was still out of it so she found a
towel and threw it over him before leaving. It didn't occur to her that he
might not wake up before opening time of the gym the next morning, which is
exactly what happened. "What the fuck is going on here, Mickey?" Dylan was
Mickey's business partner. He was the money man, Mickey was the manager and
knew about training. As laid back and cool as Mickey was, Dylan was just the
opposite, but he had invested more money at the onset of the business, so
Mickey kind of had to put up with his uptightness and bullshit.

"Oh, hey Dylan." Mickey leaned himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes,
waking himself up. Suddenly he realized that he was lying on the mats in the
middle of the aerobics room. "I can explain."

"You don't have to. You fucked one of the fitness bunnies who works out here,
didn't you?"

"No, it's not like that."

"Don't you realize how doing something like that might jeopardize the
business."

"She wasn't a member. And we didn't just fuck. We worked out together. And
then we wrestled before we fucked."

"You WHAT?"

"We wrestled. She was pretty amazing. And she was the best fuck ever. I came
so hard I passed out."

"I assume you beat her and then had your way with her. That would also kill
the business if word got out that the manager and head trainer was so fucking
wimpy he got beat by a girl."

"I won, but barely. She was pretty amazing."

"She must have been juiced up."

"I don't think so."

"No chick can give a man a real contest in something like wrestling or
fighting unless she's some kind of steroid freak."

From the other side of the room, "I don't do steroids and the only guys who
might have a chance against me better outweigh me by fifty pounds and be very
well trained."

Dylan's head whipped around to see where the voice had come from. "Who the
fuck are you? Are you the chick that wrestled and fucked my partner here?"

"No. Wasn't me, although I wouldn't mind." She looked over at her boss sitting
on the mat with a towel over his lap. "Morning, Mickey." Mickey waved back.

"Well, then, who are you and how'd you get in here?"

"The front door was unlocked, but I have a key. I work here. I'm a personal
trainer. My name is Trish. Who are you?'

"I'm Dylan, Mickey's business partner. I'm the brain's of the outfit."

"Well, you're certainly not the brawn."

"Well, if you want to keep working here, I suggest you show your boss some
respect."

"I will. But I doubt you'd want to fire me. You've been getting a lot more
members and also people who want personal training since I started here."

"It's true, Dylan. I hired her when you were on vacation. The word has gotten
out about Trish here."

"What makes you so special?"

"I'm a good role model for people who want to get in shape, especially women
who want to get stronger. I guess they also like the way I look, 'cause a lot
of them say they want to look like me." She took off her oversized sweatshirt.
Underneath, she had her usual tanktop and tight gymshorts. She had run to
work, with a fifty pound weighted vest, her latest thing, so she was sweaty
and pumped.

"Well, I don't think you look so great. Too many muscles."

"You're a gym owner. How can your mind be trapped in the nineteenth century
when it comes to women and muscles?"

"Fit and toned is one thing, but you've gone too far."

"I've done gymnastic since I was five years old. I eat well and I'm lucky in
the genetics department. Nothing builds a better base in strength and all
around athletic ability than gymnastics does. Then I started hitting the
weights about five years ago when I got too big and tall for gymnastics, at
least on the competitive level. Should I have stopped just to fit in to your
point of view on how I should look? And if you don't like the way I look, why
are you staring. And as Mae West used to say, "Is that a gun in your pocket or
are you just glad to see me?" She turned to walk to the front desk to check
the day's schedule, calling over her shoulder, "I think you're intimidated by
me, and like it or not, you probably have the hots for me as well."

Dylan stood there looking rather foolish, staring at Trish's muscular ass and
tapered back as she walked away. Finally, to alleviate his awkwardness, he
turned to Mickey. "Get your shit together before any members show up. I'll be
in my office." He turned and stormed off.

After Mickey showered and came out to the front desk, Trish was catching a
quick workout before her first client of the day. She was doing clapping
pushups with her feet up on a chair. When she pushed off, her body came up
even with her feet on the chair, so she was parallel to the floor, and she was
clapping three times between reps. When she saw Mickey approaching, she
started to push even harder, exploding up so her shoulders and head were a
full foot high than the chair at the top of her movement.

'You're amazing. I don't know anyone else who can do that. I know I can't."

"Thanks. It's one thing to have strength, but it's another whole level when
you can build explosive strength. How was your encounter last night?"

Great. Did you set us up on purpose?"

Yeah. Did you wrestle?" He nodded. "Did you win?"

"Barely. She's really something." Mickey decided to keep it to himself about
Sarah's arm.

"Did you fuck?"

"Jeeze, you're pretty forward. I generally don't talk about such things."

"It's alright. She's my best friend and sexuality comes with the territory."

"Huh?"

"Well you know, just being such physical people, just being able to do things
that other women can't do, and most men can't do either, well being very
physical makes us very sexual as well. But it's okay if you don't want to tell
me. Sarah will, anyway."

"Wait a minute, why did you ask if we wrestled? Was that part of her plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm the one who suggested it. Was that on her mind as well?"

"You suggested it? That's perfect. And, yeah, well, actually, the original
idea was that I was going to be the one here, and yes, to wrestle with you. I
sort of thought that you might be the only one around to give me some
competition. Plus, you have a good attitude about strong women."

"I love 'em."

"I know. Anyway, after we, Sarah and I, talked about it, we realized that she
wouldn't have anyone for the evening. Ya, know. Wrestling almost always leads
to some kind of sex. Anyway, we didn't like that I would be getting some and
she wouldn't. So, I suggested that she come, and wrestle you and scope you out
as good competition."

"What about you?"

"Well, I'm doin' it with her brother."

"Is he good competition?"

"Lord, no. But he loves my muscles and he's fun to fuck. So I had him, and she
had you. Plus, in case you might be shy about doing anything with an employee,
ya know, sexual harassment in the workplace and all, that that problem would
be solved if she came instead of me."

"Does Sarah have a gymnastics background also?"

"Yeah. You couldn't tell? I guess she didn't use any of her talents on you."

"Like what?"

"Well, it's really fun, when a guy, especially an asshole, is like completely
helpless, just lying there, and you, we, jump really high, do some kind of
flip or something, and come down with our hard bodies on top of their soft
ones."

"Are you as good as Sarah?"

"Can you keep this to yourself?" He looked at her quizzically. "I've been
doing everything I can think of to build her confidence, so I wouldn't want
this getting back to her. I've had four or five year's head start on her, but
she's got the potential to be just as amazing as me. That's why I'm
encouraging her so much. She's just as strong, but she needs to work on her
skills, plus she doesn't have that killer instinct."

"So you're a better wrestler than her right now."

"Did she beat you? Come on, tell me the truth."

"Well, I sort of won, but then she told me about her arm. I think she would
have beaten me if her arm was better ... ... You'd beat me, wouldn't you?"

For once, it was Trish's turn to be somewhat modest, probably because she
liked him so much. "Probably," she said quietly as she looked at the floor.

Mickey hesitated for a moment. "Would it be sexual harassment if I asked you
to wrestle, not now, but some time?"

"Do you like Sarah?"

"Well, I hardly know her, we worked out, we wrestled, we fucked, she was so
awesome, she knocked me out, ... ... .not wrestling, fucking."

"So you did fuck. I thought you weren't going to tell me."

"It slipped out. But, I can say I've never met anyone like her, ... ..except
you."

"Well, I'm not going to get in the way of this. You should cultivate your
relationship with her."

"But, you'd beat me in a wrestling contest?"

"Yes, I would ... ... .I took on three guys at once yesterday. They were
runners, no muscle like you have, but nevertheless, three at once."

"And if we did wrestle?"

"Mickey, if you beat me, or if was even a really close match, I would be so
turned on by your strength and abilities that we would wind up fucking. And if
I trounced you, which I don't think I'd do, but if I did, which is what
usually happens, I'd get so turned on by my own awesomeness that it would also
lead to some kind of sexual encounter, usually a one-sided sexual encounter.
Also, when the guy is in need of some education as to what a modern woman can
do, if he's a jerk, well then I feel compelled to straighten him out."

"What about Dylan? How would you do against him in a fight?"

"You're kidding, right."

"He's pretty big, two-ten, two-twenty."

"He's in average shape, probably not much stronger than any other guy who
doesn't work out."

"He does ... .Work out."

"You coulda fooled me."

"He's carrying some extra weight."

"Exactly. That only helps if you're an offensive lineman. It would just slow
him down. And when you're up against someone as quick as me, the last thing
you want is to slow down. Look, I know that this is going to sound arrogant,
but sometimes you have to face facts. I have all the flexibility and
coordination of a little pixie-like gymnast, and all the skills that go with
it. I'm really strong, probably more than twice as strong as the average
five-ten, hundred seventy pound man, which would make me stronger than Dylan,
a lot stronger. And so much faster that he wouldn't even be able to react to
whatever I might do, even as I'm on to the next move."

"He can bench two-fifty."

Trish smiled at Mickey, a challenging smile. "How much can you do, Mickey?"

"Let's go."

"Can we do dumbbells? Incline? That harder, you know."

"I know. Fine. Let's start with a hundred pounders, or is that too much?" His
eyes and smiled told her that he was teasing.

She could tease too. "Oh, you want to go high reps? Is that what Dylan does,
two fifty for reps?" She led the way over to the dumbbell rack, Mickey
marveling at the way her body moved, hoping that he might still get a chance
to wrestle with this unbelievable babe. She picked up the hundred pounders and
carried them over to the bench, both at the same time instead of two trips
with one each time, as most people do.

"Do you want me to spot?"

"If you'd like." She didn't need one. She pressed the weights over her head
with ease, and then set them down, oh so gently, not like so many muscleheads,
who wanted, needed, to attract attention by dropping the heavy weights. Mickey
pressed them as easily as Trish had. This went on until they got to the
hundred and thirty pounders where Mickey showed the first signs of failure. He
got them up, but barely. They had been spotting each other after the one-
twenties, and at a hundred-thirty, Trish had to help him a little.

"Is that it for you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if I rub it in?"

"You already have. I mean, you weigh, what, about twenty, twenty-five pound
less and you haven't shown any signs of faltering. But I have an excuse." He
smiled.

"Oh, what is that?"

I've been weakened because you have me so turned on right now. All my blood is
in my crotch."

"Well, let me make it worse for you." Trish skipped the one-thirty-fives and
grabbed the one-forties. But she didn't press them up. No, she blasted them
up. After she set them down, she looked over at Mickey. "I wanted to give you
another example of what explosive strength is really all about. Now, do you
really think that Dylan would be any competition for me? Mickey? Mickey?"

Mickey was speechless. At least until he stopped coming in his shorts. "Damn,
now I have to go clean up again. You are unbelievable. Can Sarah do that?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But I thought you said that she was as strong as you."

Well, when we're just working out, we're about even. But when I'm challenged,
I always go outside of myself. She still lacks that confidence to do that.
Anyway, I might reconsider wrestling with you. I beat you just now, but you
were still tired from last night. You were good competition. I know Sarah
wouldn't mind. It would be merely physical, though. As to going at it with
Dylan, I don't see any reason to bother."

"He's an asshole." Mickey wanted to see her kick his ass. He hated Dylan, and
wished he had never entered in this partnership.

"When can I fight him?"

"You have to find a way to get him to want to think he's gonna teach you a
lesson, ya know, thinking he's putting a haughty woman in her place. But what
about us?"

"I wanna talk with Sarah first, see if she's okay with it. By the way, just a
thought. You may have been tired from your wrestle-fucking last night, but I
just did a hundred clapping pushups before our little contest. Right before
it. Go wash up. I just heard someone come in for a workout.