G..g.. good afternoon. Are you Coach Maxim?

Oh... I'm sorry, I... did not expect you to be my coach. You look so different now!

My husband... sent me here to lose weight... because he doesn't find me attractive anymore... I... really need help, Coach Maxim...

Thank you, son... but I want to look better for him too... I just don't know where to start with all of this equipment and classes here... can you help me?

I nod and follow him as he leads me to the warm-up area. His touch feels reassuring, and I'm grateful for his help. "How long have you been working out here, son?" I ask between breaths.

I chuckle softly and stretch my legs further. "You've done well for yourself," I tell him between breaths. "I never would have thought you'd be so dedicated to fitness."

As we continue with the warm-up routine, I feel a twinge of pride in my heart for all that he's accomplished. Maybe if I work hard enough too, my husband will notice me again and realize what an incredible woman he has by his side.

I feel his strength behind me as he helps push my hips back, and a pleasant shiver runs down my spine. It's nice to know that even with all of this equipment around us, it's not just about lifting weights or looking good physically; sometimes we need someone else to rely on. My cheeks flush slightly at the contact between our bodies, but I don't want him to think anything of it... yet.

I hesitate to say anything, unsure if it's just the soreness or something more. I don't want Coach Maxim... sorry, Max... to think less of me because of it. But I can't help but feel a little discomfort in my hip.

I let out a soft gasp as he presses on the sore spot. "Yes... it's been hurting off and on today." I try to maintain my composure, not wanting him to think I'm weak or injured or anything like that. After all, I came here for his help; I need to trust him if we're going to get through this together.

I feel awkward being carried like this by my son, but I know it's out of concern for my injury. "Thank you," I murmur as I climb onto the massage table. My heart races a little faster, not entirely sure what to expect from this type of massage or how intimate it might be between us.

But then again... maybe that's exactly what I need; to let go of my inhibitions and trust him with my body if we're ever going to make progress here together as coach and client, as mother and son.

My body tingles with delight as he massages my lower back and legs. It's been so long since anyone has touched me like this, so tenderly and professionally. I manage to mumble a quiet "thank you" between moans of pleasure. His strong hands gliding across my skin send shivers down my spine, and I can't help but wonder what it would be like if he were touching other parts of me... more intimately.

But then again, maybe that's part of the problem: wanting him to notice me in a different way. Right now, we need to focus on our goal—improving my fitness and making myself more attractive for my husband. I have to keep reminding myself that Max is just the coach here... my son... nothing more.

My breath quickens as he massages so close to my sex. It's becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but the pleasure his touch brings me. "I... I wish it didn't have to end," I manage to whisper, my voice hoarse from arousal. Part of me wants him to continue, to make me feel this good, but another part knows that we shouldn't cross that line... not yet. Not until I'm confident in myself again.

So I remain silent and focus on enjoying the sensations coursing through my body as he works his magic on my lower extremities. Maybe one day... just maybe.

My hips buck up against his hand instinctively, and I let out a soft moan. His touch feels so good, so right. But at the same time, I know we shouldn't be doing this... not now... maybe not ever. "Max," I manage to whisper between gasps for air, my voice sounding unnaturally thick with desire. "We should stop."

He glances up at me from where he's working his magic on my wet panties, his eyes dark and intense. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips before he goes back to pleasuring me, fingers sinking deeper into my underwear as he finds my clit and begins to circle it expertly.

"Just this once," he whispers against my skin. "For you." The sensation is too much... I'm losing control... but part of me wants him to take it all away,

A scream tears through me as my orgasm crashes over me like a wave. My hips arch off the massage table, my fingers digging into the sheets beneath me, and I can feel every muscle in my body tense and relax with pleasure. Michael continues to lap at my sweet spot, sucking and licking until I've finally quieted down again.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment at what we've just done, but a small part of me knows that this connection between us... it wasn't completely wrong. And if anything, maybe it's given me the strength to keep going, to work harder for myself and my husband so that one day he might see how wonderful I truly am.

I look down at his hand, then back up to meet his gaze. A wave of guilt washes over me; I didn't expect this kind of response from him today. But hearing his words, feeling the strength and desire emanating from him... it gives me a strange sense of hope. Maybe there is more to our relationship than just that of coach and client, mother and son. Maybe there's room for something deeper, something more intimate.

But I can't think about that right now; we have work to do. Gently, I cup his cheek in my hand, feeling the rough texture of his beard beneath my fingertips. "Thank you," I whisper softly. Then I lean in and press my lips against his, giving him a gentle kiss full of gratitude and perhaps a hint of something else. For now, that's all we can share... but it's a start.

I feel the desire coursing through me as I stroke him, his hard length slippery in my hand. My breath comes faster and more ragged with each thrust of my hand up and down. It's been so long since I've felt this way, this need for someone else... anyone else but my husband. And as much as I know I shouldn't be here, doing this with Max... I can't help myself.

Our bodies are pressed close together now, his skin heated against mine, and the want between us grows stronger with each passing second. "Max," I moan his name, my voice hoarse from desire and guilt and a thousand other emotions tangled together in this moment. His name tastes like sin on my tongue, but I don't care; I need more of him, I need everything he has to give.

His movements are firm and confident as he thrusts into me, claiming my body with every stroke. I can feel him so deep inside, stretching me in a way that both hurts and feels incredibly good at the same time. The sensations are overwhelming, and I arch my back instinctively to meet each of his powerful thrusts.

I look down at where our bodies connect, watching as our skin flushed with color from where he's rubbing against me. His movements grow faster and harder still, the table thudding beneath us as we lose ourselves in this forbidden passion. I bite my lip to muffle my cries of pleasure, trying desperately not to make too much noise... but it's no use. The sensations are simply too intense, and my body betrays me with each moan that escapes from my lips.

His words send a shockwave through me, stealing my breath and making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the raw emotion coursing through my veins. With every thrust he delivers, every harsh word spoken, I'm pulled deeper into this twisted web of desire and guilt and confusion.

My hips buck up against his as another orgasm takes hold, washing over me in a wave of pure pleasure that threatens to consume me whole. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving tiny crescents of blood in their wake, but he doesn't seem to notice or care; if anything, it only serves to spur him on further. The intensity of this moment is more than I can bear... and yet, a small part of me wishes it could last forever.