Jerk Off - Short Story
The llama had had it.
The coach did what he had to do. With the freelance gig at the corporate gym downtown. An all open gym of twenty-four to seven. GymTwentyfour it was. To make it so that, so he could scrounge enough money to make some solvency that he'd been leaning onto the back of Marcy. With only a guest room and a bed that he was thankful for.
Yet, right now. At his age he wished for better opportunities, His freelancing only got him so far, so he had to settle with dealing with the humans, the animations and other misfits. Trying to find the best possible work out while teaching self-efficacy in the process.
Ricky, the infernal brown-noser of investors of the corporate gym. It had got to his head, all he wanted was to help people. Yet it was all crooked, crooked by hustler hacks who did not care about the customers other than their credit cards. Covered their bull crap with standard legalese as that meeting of having to keep quiet, along with his small status in the pecking order. It had made him angry.
He got an intrusive memory the biggest line of crap one of the trainers did, showing him around. Llama wandering in with his naked, stacked self into the guest room. His old father's support still around, thankfully.
"Oh this body-fat measurement machine?" The lead Coach said.
"What?" Internal suspense replaying in Gurner's head.
"You can fake it, to show that they can keep coming back!"
He did not know what was going through their heads as there were getting. The negative ref ferals that came were going to go through to them. He was the good coach.
"What a bunch a lowsy hackneyed amateurs!" Gurner Said.
Gymtwentyfour was going to sink, he had written the resignation onto the bedside. Thankfully, he did a one rep max of intermediary numbers, which Rick could not reach. Pride of the craft that was worth the price, even the free smiles and kindly service he believed in.
He had spit on the shower, as he was naked with and grunting with heat. Heat he had to hide. Having to rub his figure that he had sculpted through several bulk'n cut cycles with his base building. His seventy and five inch arm pythons guns and from the week. Along with a press of his own sensitive tit that he had pushed. Fifty Four inches, Nothing Rick could match.
"The nerve! Without his father as his investor, he'd not have that gym and stick it up his own ass! Shameless! Smug!!"
He laid on the bed, somehow the anger and thought urged Gurner onwards to stroke his erection chamber, pushing him onwards in anger. The ejaculation came as with his thought of hitting a new PR, a display that could not be matched with the lead coach. Having to hide it all, having to worship his own chest with a nipple rub to bring his own ego down. His roleplay of his own submission cooling him.
Gnashing his fighting teeth, though, he had to push through.
He should have reach for the green box, his friend in these lonely times. Yet he had reached for his the resignation card instead by mistake, with perfect handwriting and a hearty sticker on it. All his politeness and manners being squashed against his dick. Along with the sport's moisteriser he used as lubircant.
"Crap!"
Too late though, urges getting to Gurner as he as the orgasm was reached. A mess was made with on his right pec and soft abdominal. Winter having hightened his libido.
Suppose he'd have to make another one. With a change of the sheets.
"Turner? You there? I got these sandwiches off down at the Cooparative!"
Marcy had called, Turner had to clean up.