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Marathon Training

by Sporter


"Where have you been?" Jeff barked as I showed up at the gym 10 minutes late.

"Sorry, Jeff. Class ran over, and I got here as fast as I could," I said.

"Listen, kid. I bust my butt to set up these workouts and make sure your body is ready to take you to the Olympics. You can't just show up late."

"I said I'm sorry, and now I'm here. So, let's get started."

Jeff grabbed my wrist. "I say when we start!" He paused, staring at me. "Now take a knee."

Jeff was my personal trainer. A former Olympian who has run 45 marathons in his 35 years, Jeff had the body to prove it. I never actually found out how much body fat he had -- though he would test mine every week -- but I can't imagine it was any more than 2%. He stood six feet tall, weighed about 185, and was all muscle. He had the kind of hard body you see on boxers, which, in fact, was one of his newer hobbies. Jeff ran about 50 miles a week and I knew he'd be the perfect man to train me for the Olympic Trials. He was tough, no-nonsense, and he'd been there. He knew what it took to win.

So, last year, I signed up with Jeff and told him I wanted to make the Olympics in track-and-field and run my first Ironman. He looked me up and down and told me, flat out: "If we do this, there's no turning back. You do what I say. You train when I tell you. And you have to dedicate your entire body to the effort. Then, I'll take you to the Olympics."

I was excited and promised to do whatever he said. And, it was working! In our first year, I went from 10% body fat to 2%, shaved over 30 minutes off my marathon time, and was in the best shape of my life. I couldn't match Jeff's stature, but I had a natural runner's body. At 21 years old and standing 5'9", I weighed 140 pounds, with, as my friends joked, most of that weight in my leg muscles. It had to be...my abs, biceps, chest, and shoulders pegged me as more ripped than huge. Still, I wished I could be like Jeff -- muscular AND ripped.

But then came today, when I was late. And Jeff was pissed. He told me to take a knee, so I dropped my bag and bent down on one knee. He knelt down too, and stared me straight in the eyes.

"ARE YOU GONNA DO WHAT I SAY?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Um. Yes, sir?"

"Yeah, that's right. You may be my client, but you're mine now. We're about to kick this into high gear." He slapped me across the face. "Get the fuck up."

"Take off your shirt." I was wearing my running gear, a cool mesh tank top and short shorts, but so much for the tank top. We spent the next 10 minutes stretching, but when I was a little tight, I got another slap. Bending over to stretch my quads, Jeff grabbed my hair and pulled me back up. "Get the fuck on the treadmill."

He put me through one of the most strenuous workouts I could remember. I ran at a 5 minute/mile pace on the treadmill for 40 minutes and the sweat poured down my body. I wanted water or a towel, but Jeff punched me in the abs when I reached for either.

"No, kid! Hit the weights."

"Come on, man!"

He grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back. "What the fuck did you say?"

Pained, I thought about begging, but I relented.

"I said, hit the weights! Routine A through F."

Fuck, I said to myself. Our weight training routines were incredibly tough, and A through F were meant to be low-weight, high-rep routines with no rest. I was gonna keep sweating.

I ran to the weights, grabbed 25 pounders, balanced on one leg on a ball and did 50 hammer curls. Without rest, I turned immediately to 50 tricep lifts. I ran to the lat pull-down, pulling 100 pounds 30 times. I dropped to the ground for 50 pushups and then did the plyometric workout -- 50 jumping jacks, 50 butt kicks, 50 high knees, 10 minutes on the jump rope, 10 minute boxing routine, 40 high jumps, and 100 squat jumps. I finished, then fell to the floor. I could barely speak.

"Water...please."

Jeff pulled me up by the hair and threw me on a bench. He poured an igloo of freezing water on me, then yelled. "You want more water!?"

Now I was getting angry. I shuttered and quivered, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I stood up. He stared at me.

"AGAIN! Routine A through F."

I nearly collapsed, but started again. I made it as far as the pushups, but couldn't make it. I hit 41 and crashed, falling to the floor. The sweat and ice water was pouring off me light a water fall. I could barely grab the weights, or do pushups without slipping. I was tired, I needed water. But Jeff was having none of it.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled me up. "Look at you. You think you can make the Olympic team? What a joke?"

"Please...just let me rest for a minute. I need..."

Jeff grabbed my balls and squeezed. "AHHHHHHHH!" I yelled.

"I'll tell you what you need. Now take off those shorts, they're soaked, kid!"

"Huh?"

He pulled my wrists behind my back. "If you won't take them off yourself, I guess I'll have to." He handcuffed my wrists with metal cuffs he had in his pocket, and then tore my shorts off.

I stood there, sweating, wet, and now, naked. My trimmed bush surrounded a hardening 7 inches cut. I couldn't resist. I might have been tired, but I was standing in front of Jeff, naked, and bound. I couldn't help but get hard.

Jeff stared at my now rock hard cock and then grabbed my balls and pulled down. "If you think you're getting any kind of release now, you're dreaming!" He ran his fingers over my sweating body. He felt my biceps and triceps, bulging from my workout. He outlined my chest and every ab muscle. He reached for my cock, gave it three strokes, then squeezed. I winched. He slapped my ass, and then barked orders.

"Now. Plyometrics."

Handcuffed, I tried my best. I did the leg part of 50 jumping jacks, 50 butt kicks, and 50 high knees.

"Um. I can't do the jump rope."

"You can't do the jump rope, what?"

"I can't do the jump rope, sir, while I'm handcuffed."

"Then I guess you get punished." I had no idea what he meant, but I was out of breath and couldn't argue. "Stand there, don't move." I heard Jeff walking away, and took the respite for what it was. Whatever he was planning, I now had the chance to rest, even though I dared not sit down. I stood there, naked, sweating, handcuffed, and hard for what seemed like an hour, only to have Jeff come back behind me and put me in a choke hold.

"You better just relax, boy."

Then I felt it. He was inserting a dildo in my ass. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough...7 inches, maybe. I yelled.

"What the fuck??!!"

The choke hold got harder. I tensed up, making it harder for Jeff to insert the dildo. "RELAX! or else it gets worse!" I tried to relax, but I couldn't. "Alright, kid. You asked for it."

He threw me down. My face hit the bench. I was bent over, ass in the air, hands cuffed behind my back and now, Jeff cuffed my ankles together. I couldn't move. He started pushing the dildo back and forth, fucking my ass. Slow at first, but then he got nasty. He must have given me at about 20 minutes worth of pushing it all the way in REALLY fast, then slowly pulling out, all the while screaming...

"You like that? I want more? You gonna give up next time?"

I moaned and screamed each time he rammed the dildo up my ass. My tight body couldn't move. I struggled, but couldn't resist. The puddle of sweat around me was getting larger and I was losing all power to resist.

Suddenly, Jeff had had enough. He pulled out the dildo and pulled me up by the hair.

"Now, finish the routine!"

My breathing was heavy, I was already sore, and I couldn't speak. My mind raced back to my workout, but as he pulled me up, I saw that Jeff had taken off his shirt to reveal the most amazingly ripped and muscular body I've ever seen. I stared at his abs for what must have been too long. He punched my in my stomach. I doubled over to the ground.

"Alright. If you won't do it, then you get more."

I was afraid that meant the dildo, but instead, he uncuffed me and dragged me to the pull up bar. He tied my hands to the bar with rope, ordered me to lift, and rammed the dildo back in my ass. I screamed and fell, dangling from the bar by the ropes.

"C'mon boy! 20 pullups!"

I couldn't manage even one. Jeff beat my ass until I stopped resisting. I dangled there until Jeff spread my legs and cuffed each ankle to the sides of the machine. I was hanging there spread-eagle and felt Jeff behind me. He grabbed my body, he muscular arms around me, feeling every inch of my body. With one hand remaining on my abs, he reached for the dildo and pulled it out. I breathed out for a second, until the dildo was replaced by Jeff's own cock. I screamed out. It must have been 10 inches and thick. He didn't even start slow. He pounded my ass, already spread by the dildo, as I dangled from the pull up bar. I screamed out at each pound and my pleas echoed through the empty gym. His arms stayed glued to my body and his cock wouldn't stop. I felt so many things -- pain, fatigue, and ecstasy. The hottest real man in the world was holding me and fucking me and showing me no mercy.

Then, he stopped. He came around to look at me face to face. I was sweating, tired, beaten, and stilled tied up. I looked him in the eye and he said to me quietly, "You liked that?"

I could only manage a slight nod.

He untied me and I fell to the ground. I pulled me up and led me to a bench. He threw me down on my back, tied me hands under the bench, picked up my legs, and rammed what I saw must have been 12 inches up my ass. I submitted completely. I moaned in absolute pleasure. I really wanted it now. I didn't want him to stop. He pounded and pounded, screaming in his own right, pulling at my hair, punching my abs when he felt like it. I saw his body now. He held my legs out to each side, which revealed his bulging biceps, his cut chest and ripped abs. I started to tingle all over. I had been fucked and raped for over 90 minutes and Jeff only touched my cock twice, and both times he squeezed my balls. I knew I was close to cumming. I didn't know what to do. I was barely audible.

"Can I cum, sir?"

Jeff abruptly stopped fucking me.

"No."

I collapsed.

"But, sir..."

Jeff gagged me with his underwear. He dropped my legs, straddled me, and jacked off on my chest. His body was amazing. Every muscle twitching as he jacked off and came all over my abs, chest, and face.

He knelt down close to my face.

"Are you ready to train now?"

I nodded lightly. He uncuffed me, picked me up, and, still drenched in cum, he handcuffed me behind my back. He grabbed our clothes and led me out the back of the gym to the parking lot. No one was around to see us, both naked, both sweating, me handcuffed and gagged. He led me to his car, opened the back door, and placed me inside. He dressed and got into the driver's seat, pulling out of the garage into the night.

"Now, we take our training to the next level."


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3 Gay Erotic Stories from Sporter

Marathon Training

"Where have you been?" Jeff barked as I showed up at the gym 10 minutes late. "Sorry, Jeff. Class ran over, and I got here as fast as I could," I said. "Listen, kid. I bust my butt to set up these workouts and make sure your body is ready to take you to the Olympics. You can't just show up late." "I said I'm sorry, and now I'm here. So, let's get started." Jeff grabbed my wrist.

Marathon Training 2

I sat naked in the back of Jeff's car, wrists handcuffed behind me and gagged with Jeff's underwear, absolutely enjoying the rest. Jeff, the personal trainer I signed up with to help take me to the Olympics in various track-and-field events, just put me through the most intense workout of my life. I was still sweating, still out of breath, but at least I wasn't lifting, running, punished, or

Marathon Training 3

For the first time in hours, I was uncuffed and untied and not being fucked or pushed to my athletic limit. I lay on the floor; after all, Jeff had punched me for cumming and ordered me to lick up every ounce from the floor and his pants and chest. He probably knew I couldn't resist. I was completely spent, and I still had the electric dildo up my ass. He knew he could flip a switch and send

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