Wife Fucks Gym Trainer While Housesitting

The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up my legs as I leaned against the sticky bar at the edge of the nightclub. Smelled like cheap vodka and sweat, the kind of stench that sticks to your skin no matter how much you shower later. I was nursing a watered-down gin and tonic, scanning the crowd, when I saw him—Jake, my gym trainer. Six-foot-three of pure muscle, arms like they could bench press me without breaking a sweat, and that cocky smirk that always made my stomach flip in ways it shouldn’t. I’m married, for fuck’s sake. Happily, even. But there he was, cutting through the sea of writhing bodies like he owned the place, and I couldn’t peel my eyes off him.

I was supposed to be housesitting for my friend Tara while she was on some fancy vacay in Bali. Her place is a damn mansion, pool and all, just a few blocks from this club. My husband, Mark, was out of town for work, so I figured I’d pop out for a drink, blow off some steam. Didn’t expect to run into Jake here, though. We locked eyes across the room, and he started weaving toward me, that grin of his getting wider with every step. My heart did a little stutter. Chill, I told myself. Just a quick hello. That’s it.

“Hey, stranger,” he drawled, voice low enough I had to lean in to hear over the music. He smelled like cedar and something darker, muskier. “Didn’t think I’d catch you out on a Thursday night. Where’s the hubs?”

“Out of town,” I said, too quick, sipping my drink to hide the flush creeping up my neck. “Just… keeping myself entertained while housesitting for a friend.”

He nodded, leaning on the bar next to me, his arm brushing mine. Just a graze, nothing intentional. But I felt it, that tiny spark of heat, and I didn’t pull away. “Housesitting, huh? Sounds like a sweet gig. Bet it’s got a killer view.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Pool, hot tub, the works.” Why the hell did I mention the hot tub? I could’ve slapped myself. But Jake just chuckled, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t read. Or maybe I could, and I didn’t wanna admit it.

“Hot tub sounds dangerous,” he teased, signaling the bartender for a beer. “You inviting me over to check it out, or what?”

I laughed, a nervous little burst, and shrugged. “Maybe. If you’re lucky.” Flirting. I was fucking flirting. With my trainer. Who I see three times a week, drenched in sweat, barking at me to do one more rep. But the gin was buzzing in my veins, and the way his bicep flexed as he grabbed his beer wasn’t helping. I shifted closer, just an inch, telling myself it was the crowd pushing me. Bullshit, but whatever.

He turned to face me, his knee bumping mine under the bar. “I’m always lucky,” he said, voice dropping even lower. His gaze flicked to my lips for half a second before snapping back to my eyes. My throat went dry. I should’ve backed off right then, made some excuse, gone back to Tara’s place alone. But I didn’t. I stayed put, letting that knee stay pressed against mine, feeling the warmth through my jeans.

“Prove it,” I shot back before I could stop myself. What the fuck was I doing? His smirk turned into a full-on grin, and he tilted his head toward the dance floor.

“C’mon. Let’s dance. See if you can keep up.” A challenge. I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp, the burn steadying me, and followed him into the crowd. The music was louder here, pulsing in my chest, and bodies pressed in from all sides. His hand found my waist as we started moving, just a light grip to guide me. Totally normal. People dance like this all the time. No big deal.

Except it was. His fingers tightened a little, pulling me closer, and I didn’t resist. My hips swayed against his, the rhythm taking over, and I could feel the hard plane of his stomach through his shirt. Jesus, he was solid. My hands landed on his shoulders, steadying myself, and he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

I should’ve laughed it off, stepped back. Instead, I tilted my head up, my lips brushing his jaw by accident. Or maybe not. “Takes one to know one,” I mumbled, barely audible over the music. His grip on my waist slid lower, resting just above the curve of my ass, and I let it happen. My skin was buzzing, every nerve on high alert, and the guilt was there, gnawing at the back of my mind, but it wasn’t loud enough to stop me.

We danced like that for what felt like forever, pressed too close, hands wandering just a little more each song. His thumb traced the edge of my hipbone under my shirt, and I shivered, pressing into him harder. I could feel him, the bulge in his jeans, obvious and unapologetic, and my breath caught. Holy shit. This wasn’t just flirting anymore. This was a line, and I was sprinting toward it.

“Wanna get outta here?” he murmured, lips brushing my ear again, sending a jolt straight down my spine. I nodded before I could think, before the rational part of me could scream no. “Where’s this fancy house you’re sitting?”

I gave him the address, my voice shaky, and we stumbled out of the club into the cool night air. The walk to Tara’s place was quick, maybe ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. His hand stayed on my lower back the whole way, a constant reminder of what I was doing. What I shouldn’t be doing. But the heat of his touch drowned out everything else.

We got to the house, and I fumbled with the keys, my hands trembling as I unlocked the door. The place was dark, silent, all sleek lines and glass walls. I didn’t bother with a tour. “Pool’s out back,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Hot tub, too. If you’re still curious.”

He laughed, a low, rough sound, and followed me through the living room to the patio. The hot tub was already bubbling, steam rising into the night, and I hesitated for half a second before peeling off my jacket. “You getting in or just staring?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. My heart was hammering so hard I thought he’d hear it.

“Only if you are,” he said, already tugging his shirt over his head. Fuck me. His chest was a work of art, all defined muscle and tan skin, a few scars here and there that only made him hotter. I swallowed hard, shimmying out of my jeans and top until I was down to my bra and panties. Not exactly swimwear, but I didn’t care. His eyes raked over me, hungry, and I stepped into the hot tub, the water scalding against my skin.

He joined me a second later, sliding in across from me, but the tub wasn’t that big. Our legs brushed under the water, and I didn’t pull away. Neither did he. “Nice setup,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the house. He was looking at me, and I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being half-naked.

“Thanks,” I muttered, splashing a little water to break the tension. Didn’t work. He moved closer, just a fraction, his knee pressing against mine again. On purpose this time. My breath hitched, and I looked at him, really looked at him, those dark eyes boring into mine like he could see every dirty thought I was trying to hide.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now, but there was an edge to it. Like he knew the answer but wanted to hear it anyway. I nodded, scooting closer, the water sloshing around us. His hand found my thigh under the surface, fingers splaying wide, and I froze for a second before leaning into it. Just a touch. Nothing crazy. Yet.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. He didn’t argue. Just slid his hand higher, thumb brushing the edge of my underwear, and I gasped. The water made everything feel heavier, more intense, and I couldn’t think straight. Didn’t want to.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, but his fingers kept moving, slipping under the fabric now, teasing the sensitive skin there. I didn’t tell him shit. I shifted closer, my hand landing on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. He groaned, low and rough, and pulled me onto his lap in one smooth motion, water splashing over the edge of the tub.

I straddled him, feeling him hard against me through the thin layers of fabric, and my head spun. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him, slow at first, then harder. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he muttered, voice gravelly, and I laughed—a real, surprised laugh that broke through the haze for a second. It was absurd. I was cheating on my husband with my trainer in someone else’s hot tub. If that wasn’t a midlife crisis, I don’t know what is.

But then his mouth crashed into mine, and I stopped laughing. Stopped thinking. His tongue pushed past my lips, hot and demanding, and I kissed him back just as hard, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The water churned around us as I rocked against him, every movement sending heat spiking through me. His hands slid up my back, unhooking my bra with a flick, and I let it float away, not caring where it went.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, staring at my chest like he’d never seen anything better. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, rough and calloused, and I arched into it, a small sound escaping me. He took that as an invitation, ducking his head to take one into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make my toes curl. I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him there, the mix of his hot mouth and the warm water driving me out of my mind.

I could feel him straining against his boxers, and I reached down, fumbling under the water to tug them down just enough. He hissed as my hand wrapped around him, stroking slow, feeling how thick and heavy he was. “Careful,” he warned, voice tight, but I didn’t wanna be careful. I wanted to lose it completely.

“Need you,” I mumbled against his neck, biting down lightly, and that was all it took. He lifted me up just enough to shove my panties aside, not even bothering to take them off, and positioned himself at my entrance. I sank down slow, inch by inch, the stretch almost too much at first, but the water made it easier, slick and warm. We both groaned, loud and unashamed, as I took him all the way.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, hands gripping my ass to control the pace. I didn’t fight him. Just moved with him, rolling my hips, feeling every thrust hit deeper, harder. The water slapped against the sides of the tub, loud in the quiet night, but I didn’t care if the neighbors heard. Didn’t care about anything but the way he filled me, the way his teeth grazed my collarbone as he fucked me like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had.

“Harder,” I gasped, and he obliged, slamming up into me with enough force to make me see spots. My nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, and he cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering for a second before picking up again. I was close, so fucking close, the pressure building low in my belly, and I could tell he was too, the way his grip tightened, the way his breath came in sharp pants against my skin.

“Don’t pull out,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. Reckless. Stupid. But I meant it. His eyes darkened, a flicker of hesitation there, but then he nodded, thrusting even deeper, and I felt it—the hot rush as he came, pulsing inside me, no barrier, no nothing. It tipped me over the edge, my whole body clenching around him, a sharp, shuddering release that left me trembling in his lap.

We stayed like that for a minute, panting, the water still bubbling around us, my head resting on his shoulder. Guilt started creeping back in, cold and heavy, but I pushed it down. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.

He kissed my temple, softer than I expected, and I almost laughed again at how weirdly tender it was after… that. “We’re so fucked,” I muttered, and he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Yeah. Worth it, though.”

I was about to say something back, maybe agree, maybe freak out, when I heard it—a sharp, insistent buzz from inside the house. My phone. On the kitchen counter, probably. I froze, the post-orgasm haze snapping away. Mark wasn’t supposed to call tonight, but what if it was him? What if something was wrong? Or worse, what if Tara had a security alert or some shit and knew I wasn’t alone?

“Shit,” I hissed, scrambling off Jake’s lap, the water sloshing everywhere. He looked at me, eyebrows raised, but I didn’t explain. Just grabbed a towel from the patio chair, wrapped it around myself, and bolted inside, my heart pounding for a whole new reason now.