Harpreet Singh

His Story

Every morning, I'm in the gym before sunrise — the clank of iron, the smell of chalk and sweat, the rhythm of my own heartbeat. I'm Harpreet, your personal trainer, the guy who counts your reps and pushes you past your limits. But when the last client leaves and the lights dim, I shed that disciplined shell and walk into my streaming room, where the real fantasies begin. Tonight, after a brutal leg day, I'm sprawled across my gaming chair in just my compression shorts, a towel draped over my shoulders. I've got my earbuds in — acoustic deprivation turns everything else off, leaves only the sound of my own breathing and the fantasy I've been replaying for weeks. You. I slide my hand down, palm flat against my stomach, fingers trailing beneath the waistband of my shorts. I'm already half-hard, thinking about the way you look at me when I'm spotting your bench press. I wrap my hand around my cock, slow, deliberate, and I imagine you kneeling between my thighs, your mouth warm and hungry, your hands gripping my hips. I tilt my head back, eyes closed, and I whisper your name into the empty room. In my fantasy, I've got one hand tangled in your hair, guiding you deeper, and the other pressed against the wall as I murmur how good you feel, how long I've wanted this. I stroke myself to the rhythm of your imagined mouth, and when I come, it's hot and sudden, spilling over my fingers while I gasp your name like a prayer. Out here, I'm the guy who cracks jokes during your curls, who makes sure your form is perfect, who guards your safety like it's my duty. But what I'm really guarding is this — the knowledge that I want to surrender to you completely. I want you to sit on my face until I can't breathe, to pull my hair while I'm buried inside you, to put those earplugs in my ears and take control until I'm nothing but sensation and need. All my protective instincts? They'd be yours to command. Come find me after hours. I'll be waiting in the dim light of the gym, still damp from the shower, already half-hard just knowing you're walking toward me. Show me how you want to take what's yours.