Wii Trainer

The soft green mat is cool under her bare feet as she settles deeper into the pose. On the small screen in the corner the digital version of her holds the same position, arms raised, smiling.

“Very good… keep your back straight… breathe…”

Her real voice is calm and encouraging, the classic trainer tone. But the massive, soft weight of her ass is anything but calm. The tight grey leggings are stretched obscenely around the two heavy globes that completely engulf you. Your face is buried deep in the warm, slightly sweaty crease, nose forced into the soft, musky heat between her cheeks. Every time she adjusts her balance or shifts her weight, the thick soft flesh rolls and presses harder, the fabric of her leggings grinding against your tiny, already leaking cock trapped between the heavy cheeks.

She deliberately clenches once—slow, deep, deliberate—and a soft, wet sound escapes as your pathetic little cock is milked between the soft, hot flesh. Japanese onomatopoeia practically hangs in the air around the soft, heavy impact of her ass settling lower.

She doesn’t look down. She doesn’t acknowledge you. She simply continues speaking to the player on the screen, voice light and professional, while her enormous ass continues the slow, merciless grinding that has already made you start leaking against the soft fabric.

“Almost there… just a little longer… you’re doing so well…”

Another soft clench. Another deliberate roll of those heavy cheeks. Your tiny cock twitches helplessly between them, completely trapped, completely ignored except as a source of quiet, private amusement for her.

She finishes the last pose, arms still raised, voice light and professional as she praises the player on the screen. The moment the session ends and the player leaves, the warmth drops from her face.

She doesn’t even look at you as she reaches back, digs her fingers into the soft, stretched fabric of her leggings, and pries her massive cheeks apart. Your face comes free with a wet sound, shiny and flushed, your tiny cock still leaking against the soft inner curve of her ass where she’d been slowly grinding you the entire time.

She stands, adjusts the waistband of her leggings with a soft jiggle of those heavy cheeks, then simply hooks two fingers into your collar and starts walking. No explanation. No warning. Just the soft, heavy sway of her ass leading you out of the training room and down the hall into the women’s restroom.

She picks the last stall, the one she always uses. Opens the door, steps inside, then turns and plants her soft bare foot on your shoulder, pushing you down until you’re kneeling outside.

“Stay right there. Hands on your little cock. Don’t stop.”

The door closes. The lock clicks.

You hear her peel the tight grey leggings down her thick thighs. The soft, heavy sound of her enormous ass settling onto the toilet seat. Then the restroom door opens again. Heavy footsteps. A low male voice. Soft, wet kissing. The thick, wet slap of a heavy cock dragging across the soft, warm flesh of her cheeks.

Then the deep, wet stretch as he pushes into her.

Her breath catches. A low, satisfied moan slips out under the door, soft and open in a way she never sounds with you. The stall walls creak. Wet, heavy plap-plap-plap fills the small space as he starts fucking her properly, every thrust making those fat cheeks clap and ripple. You can hear how easily she takes him, how wet she already is, how her soft voice starts breaking into quiet, greedy little sounds.

“Mmm… deeper… just like that…”

She doesn’t quiet down. She doesn’t rush. She lets him use her while you kneel outside with your pathetic little cock in your hand, stroking exactly like she told you to, listening to every wet slap and every soft, pleased moan she gives another man.

She’s already kneeling between your legs by the time you fully process that she’s pushed you down onto the bed.

Her massive, soft ass rests heavy on her calves, the tight grey leggings stretched obscenely around those thick thighs. The blue tank top is still on, the soft weight of her tits resting against her own soft stomach as she leans in close. She doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks down at your lap with that same calm, faintly amused expression she wears during training.

Your tiny cock is already hard. Standing straight up, flushed a deep, angry red, and clearly neglected. The soft, musky smell of it hits her the second she leans closer. She doesn’t wrinkle her nose. She just inhales once, slowly, like she’s confirming something she already knew.

“Stinky today.”

Her voice is quiet. Almost gentle.

One soft hand comes up and wraps around the base of your little cock. Her fingers are warm and thick, and they completely cover it. She gives it a slow, testing stroke from base to tip, feeling how the skin is already a little sticky, how the head is shiny and leaking just from being looked at. The soft, wet sound of her hand moving over you is embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

She strokes again, slower this time, thumb brushing over the leaking head and smearing the precum around. Her eyes stay locked on your tiny, twitching cock the entire time, watching the way it jumps in her grip, the way the soft, musky scent gets stronger the more she plays with it.

“Look at it. Standing up all proud like it thinks it’s something.”

She gives the head a soft little squeeze, then leans in even closer until her warm breath ghosts over the sticky tip. She doesn’t kiss it. She just stays there, breathing on it, watching it twitch and leak while her thick fingers keep up that slow, deliberate stroking.

Her free hand comes up and rests on your thigh, heavy and warm, pinning you in place without any real effort.

“Today you’re going to stay right here,” she murmurs, still staring at your little cock as she works it. “And I’m going to play with this stinky little thing until I’m bored of it.”