Christina's Adventures Part 5 (Amina's Call)
Waking up to the alarm, I looked at the clock—it was 8 AM, and the day ahead promised to be busy. Rain was falling outside, and fresh air blew in through the window. Picking up my phone, I saw a message from Lisa reminding me that we were going to the beauty salon today. I replied that I remembered and would call her after my workout.
I decided to lounge a bit and upload photos from last night to Instagram. After selecting the best ones, I posted them to my page and started scrolling through my feed. There, I came across yesterday's video with Lisa in the car; it had gotten 10 thousand likes. The comments were exploding over our show.
A message came from Amin.
Amin: — Hey kitten, how are you? I'm still
under the pleasant impression of last night, I want to spend the evening with you but not in the car. I need to go out of town for work, I'll be gone for about 5 days!Me: — Hey Amin, I have pleasant memories too, I'm all for it! Write when you get back!
After sending the message, I threw on a robe and went to the kitchen to see my mom.
Mom: — Good morning, star!
Her words left me stunned.
Me: — Good morning, mother of the star! (I said, pretending not to understand what she meant)
Mom: — Kristina, I don't mind you hanging out and having fun, but getting drunk and flashing your asses with Lisa in the center of Moscow!?
Me: — Oh, is that what this is about? Yeah, we overdid it.
Mom: — 'Overdid it' is putting it mildly! Thank Amin, I called him and he told me he met you and decided to take you both home.
Me: — Yes, Mom, sorry, it really was awful. (I genuinely felt ashamed, but not for my behavior—for the fact that I could get my mom in trouble)
Mom: — Have fun, hang out, but most importantly, don't ruin your reputation; it will be very useful in life. And don't forget about your education—it's impossible without it; college is ahead and you'll have little time then!
I nodded, apologized again, and lowered my head. Mom kissed me and smiled.
We both knew that Mom had done even crazier things in her youth.
I washed up, had breakfast, and got ready for the gym.
The workout with Misha was unusually lively; he was complimenting me and touching me more than usual. When I was squatting, he positioned himself extremely close to me and rubbed against me. I was wearing black athletic leggings with a push-up effect and a faux thong, and a black top that only covered my chest. With each squat, the seam pressed against my pussy and between my thighs, making my hips look even sexier, and during the exercise, they opened a path to my hole, which Misha took advantage of.
Next, I started doing squats with a dumbbell, spreading my legs wide. Misha sat opposite me, watching my form. He kept correcting me and scolding me for squatting too deep. My gaze was fixed on him; he was wearing a tank top with thin straps that only covered his nipples, huge pumped-up pecs, broad shoulders, powerful arms with bulging veins. His athletic, perfect body was distracting me from the workout.
Misha: — And 15, good job, but why are you squatting so deep? The muscles stop working at the bottom point; they need to stay under tension the whole time!
Me: — Well, I like it deep! (I said with a mischievous smile)
Misha: — She likes it deep. We're doing sports here, not measuring the depth of your capabilities!
Me: — Oh, my capabilities are big!
Misha sat behind me and extended his arms forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Misha: — You squat to here. If you squat deeper again, you'll feel it.
I started squatting and feeling his hands. On the 5th rep, I decided to do it properly, but his hands were there too. Without showing it, I continued.
Misha: — Lean forward a bit to stretch the muscles better.
Leaning my torso forward, I felt my glutes stretching better indeed. Misha's fingers fully cupped my ass, his pinkies slipping to my hole every time my thighs opened thanks to the leggings. It was getting harder for me, and Misha commanded, "Breathe, inhale, exhale." As I rose, I started exhaling loudly and sharply, pursing my lips.
Misha: — That's it, beauty, keep going, 3 more times.
Hearing "finished," I dropped the dumbbell. Straightening up sharply and taking three steps forward, my ass was burning and aching, feeling like it had swollen. I turned to Misha; he was sitting there, looking at me with a hungry gaze.
Misha: — Well, lunges and stretching!
Me: — Misha, nooo, I can't do more, stop torturing me, what's with you today! (I said in a whiny voice, moving my arms like a child, pouting)
Misha: — Why are you pouting? It's easy only on the couch; here you work. (he said seriously)
Usually, Misha is a simple, big, and kind trainer who supports and pities me, but today he was a brutal jock who didn't care what I said.
Misha brought the dumbbells and placed them at my feet. Whining, I took them and started doing lunges. After finishing, we went to the mini-gym with panoramic windows and views of the embankment.
Me: — Will you take a picture of me?
Misha: — Yeah, give me your phone.
I always liked photos taken by Misha; he knew how to photograph properly, choosing how to stand so the light emphasized my curves. While I was looking at the photos, he laid out a mat, took a resistance band with handles, a ball, and a foam roller.
Me: — Well, the ball is for abs, the roller for stretching, and the band for what?
Misha: — I was at a training course, and they told us about new stretching exercises. We'll test them on you today. You can do the splits, right?
Me: — Yes, but not fully!
Misha: — You said you like it deep, so we'll learn to do a deep split.
I lay on my back, took the ball, and started lifting it over my head, bending at the stomach and raising my legs, feeling my abs start to tense. Misha showed me new exercises, and after 10 minutes, my stomach muscles were burning. My flat tummy showed abs; the sexy line between my stomach and obliques stood out strongly. I stood in front of the mirror and pulled my leggings down a bit, arching my back. The flat tummy with small abs smoothly transitioned into a rough muscle towards the pubic area.
Misha: — Well, nothing grew in your pants?
Me: — Hah, look how aesthetically pleasing this looks.
Misha: — Yeah, it looks fire. (he said, licking his lips)
Misha came closer and, pressing with his fingers, ran them from top to bottom, removing his fingers right at the waistband of my leggings. My breath caught, and my heart started beating faster, making me tense my muscles.
Misha: — Yeah, we worked the abs great, enough for today.
Lie on your stomach, take off your sneakers, we have little time. Misha positioned himself between my legs, his hands roughly squeezing my feet in white socks—even through the fabric, I felt the heat of his fingers, slowly lowering my heels towards my ass. I felt my muscles and ligaments burning; it was simultaneously painful and pleasant. Raising my head, I saw Misha in the mirror; he was sitting behind me, biting his lip and looking down at my ass and protruding pussy.
Me: — Misha, enough, my legs are burning.
Misha: — Endure it, I know it hurts, but we need to stretch you after such a workout.
Misha tortured me as he pleased, and finally, it was time for the resistance band.
Misha: — Lie on your back, slide the band under your shoulder blades, grab the lower bar of the wall bars with your hands, spread your legs as wide as possible, and relax.
I obediently spread my legs, tracing a slow, seductive heart in the air. Misha knelt in front of me, his powerful hands gripping me under the knees, his defined arms started smoothly lowering my legs to the floor. The fabric between my legs began to squeeze my pussy, forming a camel toe. I started to like it and get aroused; a big, pumped-up guy was pressing down, not listening to my pleas to stop.
After fully spreading my legs to the sides, he put the band's handles on my legs, and they locked in place. He sat between my legs, holding them slightly. Smoothly removing his hands, he grabbed my waist and pulled me down a bit.
I felt everything starting to burn inside; my hands were tightly gripping the bar, stretching my spine; my leg and glute muscles were taut. It reminded me of the beginning of a BDSM movie.
Misha: — Put your head down; now your body needs to be in one plane. When it becomes impossible to endure, tell me, and I'll help reduce the pain.
The pants dug into my crotch, pressing hard on my pussy and asshole. Misha sat between my legs again and started pressing on my heels; my ass lifted off the floor, and I saw my pubic area and Misha's face. It felt like his lips were near it and he was about to start licking me. Moving even closer to me, I started feeling his dick with my tailbone. Apparently, he liked what was happening since he was so hard. He started releasing my legs; my ass, under the control of his hands, descended. Misha's dick ended up between my stretched thighs and, after sliding over me a bit, Misha abruptly moved away.
Me: — Aah, Misha, it hurts! (I said with a moan)
Misha: — What hurts? (he asked with confusion and alarm)
Me: — My leg...
A thought flashed through my mind that I almost gave myself away; at that moment, I wasn't thinking about my legs. I felt my pussy burning and wanting to be comforted.
Misha: — Left or right?
Me: — Both now.
His palms slid over my legs in smooth, hypnotizing movements—sometimes with light pressure, sometimes barely touching the skin. Each touch sped up my blood, making my muscles fill with pleasant warmth. When his fingers reached the inner surface of my thighs, I involuntarily held my breath. They moved so close to my pussy that his thumbs kept brushing against my swollen lips through the thin fabric, causing goosebumps and a treacherous pulsation. I rolled my eyes and continued enjoying his massage.
After finishing the workout, we sat down, and as usual, Misha started talking about nutrition and sleep, how important routine is, and so on.
Me: — Mish, what's with you today? You're not yourself.
Misha: — Yeah, competitions are soon; I started a course of supplements. It changes my mood, high excitability. Testosterone is just pumping out of me. I'm like this every time I take this stuff.
Me: — Oh right, last year you were the same. And what do you do about it?
Misha: — Well, last year was easier; I had a girlfriend. Need to find someone to satisfy the needs. And train a lot.
Saying goodbye, I went to the shower; my body pleasantly ached after the workout. Leaving the gym, at the bar, I ran into Misha; he was rubbing against some female trainer; she was laughing stupidly and trying to flirt. I went to the bar and ordered a protein shake. Misha and she came over to me.
Misha: — Kristina, meet our new trainer, Daria!
I looked at her and didn't see anything special. Daria didn't lag behind either, looking at me with the gaze of a long-untouched bitch, showing with her whole appearance that Misha was hers.
Daria: — Hi Kristina, I'm Dasha. Saw you training with Misha; he stretched you well. (she said with a hiss in her tone)
Me: — Hi Dasha, yeah, Misha is great; he's a professional. (I replied dryly)
Misha: — By the way, Kristina, remember we took photos of you as you changed? The last photo was taken six months ago; send them, and we'll compare together later!
Me: — Yeah, of course, Misha, I forgot we did that.
The girl handed me my shake; I took out my Louis Vuitton wallet and paid with a gold card—even if it was my mom's, it was enough to make Daria's eyes turn red with anger.
Daria: — Misha, she's so great; did you recommend protein to her? (she hissed with an acidic accent)
Me: — Protein comes in different kinds; I like it live and fresh, and this is just a temporary solution! Misha, wait for the photos!
I turned around and walked towards the exit; the smile of the girl at the bar was visible—she apparently also couldn't stand this Daria. Misha stood stunned, and Daria was practically spitting with anger.
I came home, called Lisa, and ordered a taxi. Opening the wardrobe, I took white semi-transparent mini thongs, went to the mirror, lifted my T-shirt to mid-chest so my nipples were slightly visible, arched my back; the top part of the panties stuck out; my beautiful flat stomach flowed into the panties—first photo done. Turning sideways, I took off my T-shirt, tensed my glute and back muscles; my breast and nipple were visible because of my arm—second photo done. And the third control one: turning my back to the mirror, I sat on the bed; my ass looked like two balls, and I leaned forward; my ass opened slightly, and the thong string was visible; my pussy protruded, lying in the panties as if in a little pouch. I took the photo. After editing them, I sent them to Misha. The reply didn't take long.
Misha: — Hmm, these are beautiful photos with visible progress; the last photo especially conveys the training results)
Me: — I'll reply later.
Meeting Lisa at the beauty salon, we sat down to get our nails done. I told her about today's workout and meeting the bitch Daria.
Lisa: — Wow, girl, what a morning. Do you really want him that much?
Me: — I don't know, I can't understand; I'm drawn to him, but it's not like with Amin. Misha has a beautiful body and he's nice—that's it. But with Amin, I feel like a cat in heat.
Lisa: — Well, then keep Misha as a backup option; when you want sex, text him and meet up.
Me: — Yeah, I guess I'll do that. Let's see how I'll be in a couple of days without sex; how did I last a year before this!?
Lisa: — How was your evening with Amin? Did he show you the Leaning Tower?__P_END