STRETCH ME DEEPER, COACH! 2

Chapter 2:

First Arrival

I stepped fully into the gym and the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to calm the heat already crawling up my neck. Dom was right there, wiping down the bench like he’d been waiting. Shirtless. Jesus. Those tattoos snaked across his broad chest and down his thick arms some tribal-looking patterns, others more personal, all of them making him look even more dangerous at forty-five. He straightened up, easily six-three, towering over my five-two frame like it was nothing. My tiny black shorts suddenly felt way too small, and the thin tank top? Yeah, my nipples were already betraying me.

“Riley,” he rumbled, that deep voice rolling through the room. He tossed the towel aside and looked me up and down, slow. “Hoodie off. Let me see what I’m working with today.”

My fingers fumbled with the zipper. I shrugged it off and dropped it on a chair, standing there in just the cropped tank and those shorts that rode up my ass. “Here, Coach. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dom’s mouth curved into that half-smirk that always made my stomach flip. “Good girl. Those shorts look even better than I remembered. You wet yet, kid? Or do I have to work for that?”

My face burned hot. “Coach! I..I’m just nervous about trials. That’s all.”

He chuckled, low and rough, stepping closer until I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Nervous, huh? That why your cheeks are flushed? Drop the bag. We’re starting with warm-ups. But first tell me exactly what you need from me today. Be specific.”

I shifted my weight, feeling that familiar throb between my legs already. “I need you to stretch me deeper. Make my splits better. Push my endurance. I keep… holding back on my own.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached out, gripping my chin with one big, calloused hand. Not hard, but firm enough to make me focus. “Holding back? That’s not gonna fly here. Today I’m gonna push every limit you’ve got. You’re gonna sweat, you’re gonna shake, and you’re gonna thank me for it. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” I whispered, my voice coming out breathier than I wanted. His thumb brushed my lower lip for just a second before he let go.

He clapped his hands once. “Then let’s go. Mat. Now. Legs wide. Show me that flexibility I’m paying for no, the flexibility you’re paying me for.”

I moved to the big black mat in the center of the gym, the mirrors on every wall reflecting us back at me. God, he looked massive next to me. I dropped into a straddle stretch, spreading my legs as wide as I could, leaning forward until my chest nearly touched the mat.

Dom crouched right behind me, his hands landing heavy on my inner thighs. “Wider, Riley. Come on. You can do better than that.”

I pushed, feeling the burn in my hips. “Like this?”

“Deeper,” he growled, pressing down firmly, spreading me further. His breath was hot against my ear. “That’s it. Feel that stretch? Hold it. Breathe through it.”

My shorts were already riding up, the fabric pulling tight against my pussy. I could feel myself getting slick, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice yet. But of course he did. His fingers stayed on my thighs, thumbs circling slowly as he held the position.

“Fuck, kid. You’re shaking already,” he said, voice lower. “How long you been this tight? You practicing like I told you?”

“I have been,” I gasped, holding the stretch. “Every morning. But it’s not the same without you pushing me. Your hands… they make it go deeper.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “My hands, huh? Careful what you say, Riley. I might take that as an invitation.”

I turned my head slightly, looking up at him. “Maybe it is? I mean… for the stretching. I need it.”

Dom’s grip tightened just a fraction. “Alright. Up. Let’s do some dynamic warm-ups. Jumping jacks first. Then high knees. I wanna see that body move.”

I stood and started, arms and legs pumping. My small tits bounced under the thin tank, and I knew he was watching every second. Sweat was already starting to bead on my skin from the heat outside and the nerves inside.

“Faster,” he barked. “Don’t slack. Arms higher. There you go. Good little athlete.”

After a minute he stepped in, correcting my form. One big hand on my lower back, the other on my hip, pulling me into better alignment. “Posture, Riley. Arch your back a little yeah, like that. Feel how it engages your core?”

His touch sent sparks straight down between my legs. I nodded quickly. “Yeah… feels better when you do it.”

“Course it does. Now squats. Watch me first.” He demonstrated, dropping low, thighs thick and powerful, sweatpants stretching over his ass and that obvious bulge in front. When he stood, he nodded at me. “Your turn. Ten reps. Deep as you can go.”

I copied him, bending my knees, ass pushing back. On the third one, Dom moved behind me again, hands on my hips. “Lower. All the way down. That’s it. Good girl. Hold at the bottom.”

I held, thighs burning, and felt his fingers dig in. “Coach… it’s hard holding it.”

“You can take it,” he murmured, close enough that his chest brushed my back. “Push through. I see how your body’s reacting. Those shorts are getting damp already, aren’t they?”

I froze mid-squat, face flaming. “I… it’s just sweat. It’s hot in here.”

Dom’s laugh was dark. “Bullshit. That’s not sweat, kid. I can smell how turned on you are. Every time I touch you, you get like this. Don’t lie to your Coach.”

I finished the squats on shaky legs and turned to face him, breathing hard. “Okay… maybe a little. But it’s embarrassing. You’re my trainer. You’re… older. I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” He crossed his arms, muscles flexing. “Get wet when a real man corrects your form? There’s nothing wrong with that. Means your body knows what it needs. Now, lunges. Alternate legs. I’ll spot you.”

We moved through more warm-ups. Lunges, where his hand stayed on my waist, steadying me as I stepped forward. Then shoulder rolls and arm circles, him standing so close I could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.

“You’re doing good, Riley,” he said after a set, wiping a drop of sweat from my collarbone with his thumb. The touch lingered. “But I can tell you’re holding back still. What’s really going on in that pretty head? Trials got you this worked up, or is it something else?”

I bit my lip, glancing at the mirrors. We looked insane together him this tattooed beast, me this tiny flushed gymnast. “Both, I think. I want to impress my college coach, but coming here… it feels different. You push me in ways no one else does.”

Dom’s eyes locked on mine. “Damn right I do. And we’re just getting started. One more form check before we ramp it up. Bent over rows. Grab that dumbbell.”

I picked up the weight and bent at the hips, back straight. Dom stepped right up behind me, his crotch brushing against my ass as he adjusted my grip and posture. “Keep your core tight. Like this.” His hand slid down my spine, stopping just above my ass.

I gasped softly. “Coach… I can feel you.”

“Yeah? Focus, kid. Don’t get distracted now.” But his voice had that edge, rougher. “You’re soaked through those shorts. I can see the spot. Keep going. Five more.”

I did the reps, each one making me more aware of how my body was responding throbbing, aching, leaking. By the end, I was panting.

Dom pulled me up straight, turning me to face him. His hand tilted my chin again. “See? That wasn’t so bad. You handled my corrections well. How’s that pussy feeling after all that touching?”

“Coach!” I squeaked, but I didn’t pull away. “It’s… aching. In a good way.”

He smirked, thumb stroking my jaw. “Good. Means you’re ready for more. Real training’s about to start. You still want me to stretch you deeper today?”

I nodded fast, heart pounding. “Yes. Please. I need it.”

The session had barely begun, but I already knew I was in way over my head with him. And I didn’t want it to stop.