Timmy, Bree, and Jamal: Chapter 2

Abstract: The 2nd of 12 Chapters. Bree starts to date her coach, Jamal. Bree meets Jamal at the gym for a training session, but they engage in hot, steamy, sex.
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Bree's fingers drummed against the steering wheel of her sleek convertible as she navigated the winding coastal road, It had been two weeks since that fateful seventh date with Jamal, and the memory of his cum still lingered in her mind like a forbidden echo—thick, warm, thrusted deep inside her while Timmy, bless his eager heart, had lapped it up from her pussy with a fervor that bordered on worship.

She'd confessed everything that night, her voice trembling as she described Jamal's massive cock stretching her in ways Timmy's Tinnie Wennie never could. Timmy hadn't judged; instead, he'd hardened instantly, his tiny shaft twitching as he dove between her thighs, tongue swirling through the sticky remnants like a man starved. It had ended with her coming hard on his face, guilt dissolving into a hazy bliss.

Now, as she pulled into the parking lot of the beachside gym where Jamal had been her trainer for a decade, Bree felt a thrill coil low in her belly. Jamal—six-foot-five of sculpted muscle, dark skin gleaming like polished obsidian under the sun, with a smile that could disarm a storm. He hitted on her since her early volleyball days, flirting shamelessly during cooldown stretches, his hands lingering way too long on her quads. Back then, she'd laughed it off, loyal to her budding life with Timmy. But Timmy's fantasy had cracked that door wide open, and after their dates escalated from hand-holding walks to heated makeouts where Jamal's palms kneaded her ass like dough, she'd tumbled into his bed. That creampie mishap? A delicious accident, one she'd replayed in solo sessions, fingers plunging deep while imagining Timmy watching.

Today was their eighth "date," disguised as a private training session at the gym after hours. Bree had texted Timmy that morning: *Heading to Jamal's for a workout. You okay?* His reply was instant: *More than okay. Tell me everything later. Love you.* The trust in those words made her pussy clench as she stepped out, her athletic shorts hugging her toned legs, sports bra barely containing her full breasts.

The gym's exterior was a riot of color—murals of crashing waves and volleyball spikes painted by local artists, a far cry from the sterile chains back inland. She pushed through the glass doors, the cool blast of AC kissing her skin. Jamal was waiting in the main studio, wiping down a set of resistance bands with a towel slung over his broad shoulder. His tank top clung to his chest, outlining pecs that could bench-press her entire frame. "Bree," he said, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet, his eyes raking over her with undisguised hunger. "Right on time. Ready to sweat?" She smirked, dropping her gym bag by the mirrored wall. "Always. But last time... we got a little carried away." Her cheeks warmed, but she held his gaze, the air between them crackling like static before a spike.

He stepped closer, towering over her five-foot-eleven height, close enough for her to catch his scent—clean sweat mixed with citrus cologne. "Carried away? Baby, that was just the warm-up." His hand brushed her arm, thumb tracing the curve of her bicep, a trainer's touch turning intimate. "You felt incredible. That tight pussy gripping me... fuck, I haven't stopped thinking about it." Bree's breath hitched, nipples pebbling against her bra. She glanced at the door—locked, as promised—then back at him. "Timmy knows. He... he liked hearing about it." The confession hung there, bold and electric, and Jamal's eyes darkened with interest. "Does he now?" Jamal's grin was wolfish. He pulled her into a loose embrace, his erection already stirring against her thigh through his shorts. "Well, let's give him more to fantasize about."

His lips captured hers, not the tentative pecks of their first dates, but a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of mint and promise. Bree melted into it, her hands roaming his back, feeling the ridges of muscle earned from years of coaching athletes like her. They broke apart, breathing hard, and Jamal led her to the padded mats in the corner, the room's fluorescent lights casting playful shadows on the equipment. No candles or silk sheets here—just the raw energy of a space built for exertion. He peeled off his tank top first, revealing a torso etched with definition down to his waistband. Bree followed suit, shimmying out of her shorts and bra, her body bare and unashamed. Nudity in a gym felt absurdly thrilling, like crashing a party where the dress code was skin.

Her breasts bounced free, heavy and inviting, pussy already slick with anticipation. Jamal's gaze devoured her, his shorts tenting obscenely. "Goddamn, Bree. You're a fucking goddess." He dropped to his knees on the mat, pulling her down with him, their bodies tangling in a heap of limbs and heat. His mouth found her neck, sucking lightly as his hands cupped her ass, kneading the firm globes she'd honed on the court. Bree arched, grinding against his thigh, the friction sending sparks up her spine. "Touch me," she whispered, guiding his hand between her legs.

His fingers parted her folds, two thick digits sliding into her wetness with ease. "So ready for me," he murmured, pumping slowly, thumb circling her clit. Bree moaned, head falling back, the mirrors reflecting their debauchery from every angle—like starring in their own private porn. She reached for his shorts, yanking them down to free his cock. It sprang out, massive and veined, at least ten inches of throbbing black steel, the head already beaded with pre-cum. Her mouth watered; last time, she'd been too overwhelmed to taste him properly. "Fuck, Jamal," she breathed, wrapping her hand around the base—her fingers barely meeting.

She stroked him experimentally, feeling him pulse in her grip, while his fingers curled inside her, hitting that spot that made her toes curl. They rocked together like that for minutes, breaths syncing, the gym's faint hum of distant waves outside underscoring their rhythm. Bree's free hand tweaked her own nipple, pinching until it ached, the dual sensations building a fire in her core. Jamal pulled his fingers free, slick with her arousal, and brought them to her lips. "Taste yourself." She sucked them clean, eyes locked on his, the salty tang making her bolder. Then she pushed him onto his back, the mat soft beneath them, and straddled his chest. His cock bobbed against her ass as she leaned forward, blonde hair cascading like a curtain. "My turn," she said, voice husky.

Lowering her head, Bree took him into her mouth, lips stretching around his girth. He was too big to deep-throat fully, but she worked the head with her tongue, swirling and sucking, hollowing her cheeks. Jamal groaned, hands fisting in her hair, hips bucking gently. "Oh god, Bree... just like that. Your mouth's magic." She hummed around him, the vibration drawing a curse from his lips, saliva dripping down his shaft as she bobbed. One hand fondled his heavy balls, rolling them softly, while the other pumped what her mouth couldn't reach. The power of it—having this hung stud writhing under her—made her pussy throb, juices trickling onto his skin.

But Jamal wasn't one to be passive long. He sat up, flipping their positions with effortless strength, pinning her beneath him. "Need to taste you now." His mouth descended on her pussy like a man possessed, tongue flat and broad as he licked from entrance to clit in one long stroke. Bree cried out, legs spreading wide, heels digging into the mat. He was relentless, sucking her clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to tease pain into pleasure. "You taste like sin," he growled against her, the words vibrating through her core. Bree's hands clutched his head, urging him deeper. "Don't stop... fuck, your tongue." Memories of Timmy's skilled mouth flashed—precise and loving—but Jamal's was primal, devouring her folds, dipping inside to lap at her walls.

She ground against his face, chasing the edge, when he slipped a finger in, then two, scissoring her open. The stretch was exquisite, prepping her for what she craved. Her first orgasm hit like a rogue wave, pussy clenching around his fingers as she squirted a light gush onto his chin. "Jamal! Yes!" He lapped it up, grinning as he rose, cock glistening from her earlier attentions.

"Ready for the main event?" Bree nodded, pulling him down, their naked bodies aligning slick and urgent. He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the head along her slit, coating himself in her wetness. Then, with a slow thrust, he pushed in—inch by glorious inch, filling her completely. Bree gasped, the burn of his size morphing into bliss as he bottomed out, balls snug against her ass. "Jamal, that’s it honey, so huge, so good," she panted, nails raking his back. Jamal started moving, hips snapping in a steady rhythm, each plunge hitting deep. The mat squeaked under them, mirrors capturing the erotic tableau: her long legs wrapped around his waist, breasts jiggling with every thrust, his ass flexing as he drove into her. Sweat slicked their skin, the gym air thick with the musk of sex.

Bree met his pace, rolling her hips, the friction on her clit pushing her toward another peak. He shifted, hooking her legs over his shoulders for a deeper angle, pounding harder. "Take it, Bree. This pussy's mine." His words were filthy fuel, and she clenched around him, milking his cock. Romance flickered in the edges—his eyes holding hers, a tenderness amid the rutting—but it was the raw eroticism that dominated, bodies slapping wetly. Bree reached between them, rubbing her clit furiously, the added pressure shattering her. "I'm coming... oh god, Jamal!" Her orgasm ripped through her, walls fluttering, pulling him deeper as she squirted again, soaking his groin. Jamal followed seconds later, groaning her name as he buried himself to the hilt. "Oh god Bree, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna fill you up... fuck!" Hot spurts of cum flooded her, pulse after pulse, the sensation obscene and intimate. He collapsed onto her, both panting, his weight a comforting press. They lay there, tangled and spent, until he pulled out with a wet pop, his seed trickling from her pussy onto the mat.

Bree dressed slowly afterward, legs wobbly, a satisfied ache between her thighs. Jamal kissed her forehead, surprisingly sweet. "That was... intense.” I'll call you tomorrow.

Driving home, Bree's mind buzzed with details to share. Timmy was waiting in bed to hear the news. Bree removed her clothes, straddled Timmy face as Jamal's cum leaked into his mouth. Timmy licked her pussy furiously as Bree told Timmy about her sex with Jamal, while reaching over to jerk Timmy's Tennie Weenie.