Big Breasted Trainer Rubs Her Chest on Me During Gym Personal Training

On a summer afternoon, I, Hiroshi, slipped out of the office as usual and headed to the private gym. It was muggy outside, the kind of weather where my T-shirt already clung to my back. At thirty, I was an ordinary salaryman whose body had grown sluggish from nonstop desk work. Wanting to lose weight and build muscle, I had signed up for a personal trainer recommended by a colleague. The gym sat inside a small downtown building, an upscale spot with several private rooms. The initiation fee had stung, but today was my first session. Anticipation and nerves mixed together, making my heart beat a little faster.

At the front desk I gave my name, and a staff member smiled and guided me upstairs. The elevator opened on the third floor to a spacious training room. Mirrored walls surrounded us, with mats and equipment arranged in the center. The air conditioning was on, yet the lingering summer heat left the air slightly damp against my nose. The scent of sweat mingled with disinfectant, creating that distinctive gym smell.

"Hiroshi, hello. I'm Mao. Looking forward to working with you today."

I turned to find a woman far more beautiful than I had imagined. Mao, a fitness trainer around twenty-five, stood in a black sports bra and leggings that highlighted her toned body. What caught my eye most were her breasts. Full and heavy, they strained against the fabric and swayed gently with each breath. Easily a G-cup or larger. I quickly looked away, thinking to myself that this could be trouble. She offered a bright smile and her hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her fingertips slightly damp with sweat.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hiroshi." I replied, trying to sound calm, though my throat had gone dry. The summer afternoon and the gym's warmth seemed to raise my temperature.

The lesson began with a warm-up. Mao checked my posture and muscle condition, touching me lightly as she explained. "Your shoulders are a bit tight. Desk work, maybe? Let's start with some light stretching." Her voice was bright and encouraging. I nodded and sat on the mat, leaning forward. She moved behind me, placing her hands on my back and pressing gently. At this point it still felt like ordinary instruction, though her breathing was close and I caught the sweet scent of her shampoo.

Once we moved into actual training, she showed me how to use the machines. We started with the bench press. As I gripped the barbell, Mao adjusted my form from the side. "Chest up a little more. Elbows in." Her hands touched my arms, making small corrections. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The room felt heavy with summer humidity, and even with the air conditioning my body grew hotter.

Next came squats. Standing in front of the mirror, I lowered myself and Mao stepped behind me to correct my hip position. "Drop your hips and keep your knees from going past your toes." Her voice was right by my ear, her body close. Something soft pressed against my back. At first I wasn't sure, but as she moved closer it became unmistakable. Her sweat-dampened breasts were pressed firmly against me. Even through the sports bra I could feel their warmth and elasticity, soft yet full. The damp fabric rubbed against my T-shirt. My heart thudded.

"Your form looks good, Hiroshi. Go a little deeper." Mao's tone stayed bright, but her chest traced along my back as she spoke. Intentional or not, it was part of the guidance. Still, my lower body began to react, which was inconvenient. Sweat ran down my neck, leaving a salty taste on my lips. The mirror reflected us almost like an embracing couple. Her scent, sweet and slightly sour, filled my nose. I tried to focus, but the sensation of her breasts stayed in my mind—soft, heavy, warm and alive.

After ten squats my breathing had grown ragged. Mao was also sweating heavily; the fabric of her sports bra clung to her skin, emphasizing the deep cleavage. Droplets slid down between her breasts. I could almost feel the shape of her chest still imprinted on my back. Each rub produced a faint friction sound. My excitement was becoming difficult to hide, and my pants felt tighter.

"Whew, good work. Let's take a short break." Mao smiled and handed me a towel. I sat on the bench and drank water. The cold liquid helped cool my overheated body a little, yet my gaze drifted naturally to her chest—glistening skin and deep shadow. She wiped her face with a fan and sat beside me. "You actually have some muscle already. Keep this up and you'll look even better." The conversation flowed easily. She told me about her hobbies and how she became a trainer. Mao had been an athlete and enjoyed working at the gym. While we talked, her breasts swayed gently, filling my view.

When the break ended, we moved to stretching. I lay face-down on the mat while Mao extended my legs. Her knee pressed against my back, and again that familiar softness touched my shoulder. "Relax and breathe deeply." Her voice was gentle, her breath warm against my ear. My body heated further, sweat soaking into the mat. The mingled scent of sweat and her body lotion was sweet.

Next I lay on my back. Mao helped stretch my hamstrings by lifting my leg. Suddenly something rested on my hand—soft and heavy. It was Mao's breast. The sports bra pressed against the back of my hand, transmitting warmth and dampness. I froze, unable to move. Whether she noticed or not, she continued. "Put your hand here. You can stretch further." Her voice had grown slightly sweeter. Our eyes met; her pupils looked moist. Summer light streamed through the window, highlighting her glistening skin.

My hand ended up lightly pressing against her breast. The softness gave beneath my palm. I felt the firm peak through the fabric. My fingers moved of their own accord, tracing the material. Mao's breathing quickened. "Ah… Hiroshi, right there…" Her voice was small, yet instead of pulling away she pressed closer. A drop of sweat fell onto my arm, hot. The scent grew stronger, a mix of her body and sweat that stirred excitement.

"Mao, this…" I managed, but words failed me. My mind had gone blank with arousal. She smiled and, still pretending to stretch, rubbed her breast slowly against my hand in a circular motion. The fabric friction was distinct. Sweat ran down her cleavage right before my eyes. The scene felt vividly real.

I could no longer hold back. My lower body throbbed painfully, my breathing heavy. Mao whispered near my ear. "Hiroshi, are you getting excited? I can tell. I'm getting hot and sweaty too…" Her voice was sweet and inviting. When the stretch finished she stood, took my hand, and pulled me up. Our gazes locked. "Let's continue the lesson somewhere more private. Come with me."

She led me into the changing room. The private gym's changing area had lockable individual rooms. On this summer afternoon the gym was empty. Once the door closed she embraced me. Her breasts pressed against my chest, sliding slightly with sweat. Warm and soft, they felt incredible. My arms naturally circled her waist. "Mao…" When I spoke her name she kissed me. The kiss was hot, tongues intertwining, carrying the salt of sweat and the sweetness of her saliva. The summer heat turned the small room into a sauna.

She removed her sports bra, revealing her breasts. They defied gravity, pink peaks standing firm, glistening with sweat. I reached out and touched them directly. They were soft, yielding under my fingers. When I squeezed she moaned. "Ahh… Hiroshi, gently…" Her voice was sweet in my ears. I kneaded one breast with one hand while holding her back with the other. Sweat made our skin slippery. I pinched her nipple and felt it harden and twitch. My lips found her breast, tasting the salt of sweat as I licked the peak. Her body trembled. "Haa… there, that's good… more…"

She pulled off my shirt and pressed her bare breasts against my chest. Their weight covered me, sliding slickly with sweat. She lowered my pants and took me in her hand, stroking with bold yet gentle movements. "Hiroshi, you're so hard… Do you like my breasts?" she whispered. Pressing me against the wall, she stimulated me with her chest, sliding my length between them in a slow, fluid motion lubricated by sweat. The soft cushioning sensation made my vision blur.

The climax came when she knelt and enveloped me between her breasts. The slick, sliding friction was overwhelming. Her tongue flicked the tip while her hot breath washed over me. "Come for me, Hiroshi… on my breasts…" At those words I erupted, heat spilling across her chest and mixing with sweat. She smiled, satisfied. My body shook, knees weak.

Afterward we showered together in the changing room. Water echoed around us as I washed her body. The scent of soap filled the air, her skin smooth beneath my hands. The memory of her breasts still lingered on my palms. Mao hugged me and whispered, "Look forward to next time." The summer sunset streamed through the window, gently wrapping us in the afterglow.

By the time I left the gym, my muscles already hinted at soreness, yet what I remembered most was the feel of Mao's breasts—their damp softness and warmth. On the train back to the office I couldn't stop grinning. I could hardly wait for the next session. It had been a day that put any muscle ache to shame.