James, her personal trainer, was a well-built black man, his muscles rippling beneath his tight gym shirt. Lana had chosen him specifically, her fantasies fueled by the stereotypes she had seen in adult films. She would wear tight leggings, her curves on full display, and occasionally flaunt her ample cleavage. James, ever the professional, would steal glances, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary. Lana could see the bulge in his pants, a testament to his arousal. She decided to make her move.
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