Frank & John, Not Lovers Ch. 05

(All characters are at least 18 years of age.)

(This is a work of fiction; any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.)

Frank awoke at seven-thirty. She always got up early, even if, as was the case this morning, she had gotten a poor night of sleep the night before. Every day, in her opinion, should begin with exercise: either a brutal workout session or else yoga, for recovery. She normally alternated between the two. Today was slated to be brutal.

She removed her boxers, frustrated, as usual, that she could not see them when they were around her waist. Her view of that area was obstructed by her prodigious tits. Next she removed her sleep shirt in favor of a dark blue sports bra. Like many of her bras, this one had a strap that went around her neck; its incredibly high neckline ensured no cleavage showed at all. With difficulty, she wrestled her way into it. She could now see her waist if she craned her head forward slightly. She pulled on men's basketball shorts (featuring a liner, unnecessary in her case), followed by long red compression socks and white Air Jordans. Lastly, she pulled on a Chicago Bulls replica tank top with the number twenty-three on the back. "OK, where's that lazy-ass cousin of mine?" she thought.

The cousin was not being lazy, as it turned out. He was not in his bedroom or the bathroom. She found him, at last, in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the espresso machine, which had been broken for over a year. It was partly disassembled. He looked up at her. He still had sleep in his eyes but seemed alert. "Hi Frank!" he said cheerily.

"Coffee," Frank said. It came out more grouchy than she had intended.

"Just give me a few minutes," John said, unphased by his cousin's tone. He was intimately familiar with her pre-coffee persona. "I've almost got his sucker back together."

John was good with mechanical objects. Frank knew better than to try to dissuade him. Once he got focused on fixing some gizmo he was like a hunting dog following a scent. Also, they were in the kitchen, and John was difficult to argue with, on any topic, in a culinary setting. Perhaps most importantly, she knew that if she waited, she would receive an amazing espresso drink rather than the pedestrian filter coffee she could make for herself.

After ten, rather than "a few", minutes, John had the machine back together and had re-attached it to the water line. Soon Frank was drinking cappuccino. There was a particularly good cafe near the local university, and this drink was about as good as their best effort. She was so pleased that she briefly considered letting the tired-looking John off the hook. "Naw," she thought.

"Where're yer exercise clothes, homeslice?" she said.

"I thought you were kidding about working out," groaned John.

"Hell no, dude! I'll see ya in the garage in five." Frank sounded like her old basketball coach, or at least how John imagined she must have sounded.

John was still tired from his interrupted night of sleep, as well as their erotic adventure in the park the day before. If he were not a habitual early riser, he would surely still be in bed. He briefly considered arguing with his cousin, but then decided he would feel better if he worked out. He also took into account that he could not recall any specific argument he had won with her, unless it was about food preparation, in the last five years. So they both walked towards their respective rooms. John ducked into his room and Frank slipped into the bathroom. As he changed into exercise attire, John could once again hear Frank peeing flamboyantly, door wide open.

The door to the garage was in the same wing of the house as their bedrooms. John somehow beat Frank there, even though he had had more to do. The space was huge. It had two external doors and could have easily accommodated two full-sized SUVs. The closer half, the bay where John was now standing, had been turned into a home gym. There was a bench with a rack for doing chest presses, a set of barbells, a squat rack, and other similar workout gear. A large, thick exercise mat covered most of the floor. In front of the garage door was a 65-inch flat-screen television, perched on a cabinet and hooked up to a three-speaker sound system, including a sub-woofer. "More retail therapy?" John thought to himself.

The far side was actually being used as a real garage. Its back wall was taken up with a large work table. Numerous tools hung from hooks mounted on the wall. A chest-high, dusty red tool cabinet labeled "Snap-on" sat in the corner.

Most of the rest of that area was taken up by a faded, orange two-door car. All four wheels were missing; it was resting on jack stands. With mounting excitement, John noted a barely-discernible white stripe towards the back of its rear quarter panel. When he saw the number "500" on it, his heart began to race. John ran over to the car, tripping over a barbell in the process. He stumbled headlong, catching himself just as he got to the passenger side door. He looked in through the dusty window. There it was, the telltale round gearshift indicating a four-speed manual transmission. John could not believe what he was seeing. He opened the driver's side door, released the hood, and walked around to the front of the vehicle. He surveyed the grimy engine compartment. On the rusty air cleaner lid he could just make out the words "426 HEMI HEAD". John ran two fingers along the dingy lettering.

Frank had arrived about a minute beforehand, carrying two Nalgene bottles that were full of ice water. John had been too engrossed in whatever it was he was doing to have noticed her arrival. He probably would not have noticed had a 747 landed outside in the driveway.

"Dude, you can finish mating with that car later. It's time to git yo' sorry butt over here!"

John closed the hood and walked back towards the other side of the garage.

"Do you know what that car is?"

"Yeah, it's the fuckin' piece of shit car my piece of shit ex-step-father bought for Mom. And then never restored like he'd promised."

John felt a surge of adrenaline. Blood rushed to his face and his shoulders tensed. "Well, I am going to restore that 'piece of shit'," he said angrily. Then he added, with less authority, "Well, if Debbie will let me. It might cost some bucks."

"Dude, if you restore that car she'll fuckin' marry ya," Frank said, grinning broadly.

Her humorous comment belied her mood. Recollecting her mom's continual disappointment over the never-restored car had thrown her into a sour frame of mind. It had been one of a series of disappointments from Will that culminated with his nasty betrayal. Frank was also reminded of her discovery, the previous night, that her mom had stopped using her giant dildos and, by implication, had stopped having orgasms.

"OK, we're going to start with dynamic stretching," Frank barked out. She began to swing her right leg, from the hip, fully forward and fully back. John imitated her and she frowned.

"No, like this. You need to come further forward." She motioned him to swing his leg upwards even more, holding out her hand to indicate where his foot should reach. It was a lot higher than he had been swinging. Once satisfied with his form on the front swing, she moved to his back swing, insisting he repeat the motion until he was hitting her hand with his foot.

"If this is how she's gonna be the entire time, I'm really in for it," John thought. He was correct. She proved to be a stickler for form and made him repeat every stretch and exercise until he at least approximated the correct technique.

One of the first actual exercises was pushups. After his third one, Frank stopped him.

"That shirt is too baggy, I can't see if yer doin' it right, although I'm guessing it's crap. Wouldya mind takin' it off?"

"There's no arguing with her when she's like this," John thought. He removed his shirt and resumed pushup position.

"Butt down!" Frank said, pushing on his right buttock. "OK, go down but then stay there."

John lowered himself fully. Frank stood over him, made a disgruntled noise, and then moved his arms down slightly so that his hands were aligned with his nipples. She made him push upwards, then corrected his chest position, which was too low. She made an annoyed sound as she touched his chest hairs. "I may have to do something about that," Frank thought. She noticed his ass was too high and pushed it down again.

Later, when doing biceps curls, Frank felt that John's stance was too narrow and his knees were too straight. She came up next to him, bent down, and put her hand on his inner thigh, then pulled his leg to one side. Satisfied with the width of his stance, she then put her hands on his hips and pushed downwards until his knees were bent at a satisfactory angle. The workout proceeded in this manner. The only breaks were for water.

"Thank God she's fanatical about hydration," thought John. "Otherwise we'd be going at this non-stop."

By the third water break, John felt like every part of his body was sore. Frank had led him through innumerable floor exercises and free weights routines. Most of all, she seemed to be focusing on the glutes. He had already done two sets of squats on the squat rack using fairly heavy weights, for a novice like himself, plus three different exercises on the mat, all of which clearly were meant to work his butt.

"Frank I seriously think my ass is gonna fall off!"

"No whining bitch!" came the immediate retort.

After this latest water break, Frank had John lie down on the bench. Above him was a long chrome weight bar, resting on safety holders.

"I'm not sure how much you can bench so I've just put ten pounds on either side," Frank said. "And don't worry, I'll spot ya."

She walked over to where his head was. In order to spot him properly she stood above his head with her legs to either side of the bench. Her shorts were soaked through with sweat and her the fabric clung to her skin. Although he could see nothing but cloth, her pussy was only a few inches above his eyes.

"Lift!" she commanded. He complied. As he pushed against the metal bar, the image of her naked vagina, or at least what he imagined it might look like, flashed through his head. His penis, already hard from her unselfconscious touching, pushed against the fabric of his shorts and his face flushed. He was painfully aware that Frank had an unobstructed view of his shorts. "At least the tip isn't poking out this time," John thought.

"That's two." she said distractedly as John struggled through the second of his ten reps.

"Why does he have an erection again?" Frank thought. The erection did not bother or embarrass her. At first, she theorized that John had had some kind of erotic reaction to doing bench presses. By his fourth rep, however, it dawned on her how unlikely that theory was. By the sixth rep, she had figured out the obvious answer. "Stupid, my frickin' puss is right over his face!" Frank chided herself.

After the chest presses, Frank had John immediately transition into doing donkey kick-backs on the mat. He got on all fours, and alternated lifting each leg straight back, holding for ten seconds. He was not getting enough elevation, so Frank squatted next to him and placed both hands high up on his thigh, moving his leg to the target height.

As she touched his bare skin, John ejaculated violently. His dick had already become rock hard from when his nose had been close to her vagina, during the chest exercise. The kick-backs he had just completed caused the material of his shorts to slide across the swollen member. When her soft hands touched his upper thigh, not all that far from his scrotum, he lost control. The only saving grace, from his perspective, was that Frank could not see this.

She could, however, hear a muffled splattering sound. His body also jerked subtly but perceptibly. She quelled an instinctive reaction to make fun of him, recalling how stricken he had looked when he had accidentally cum the day before. Her objective now was to help her best friend however she could. So, at first, she pretended not to have noticed anything, and had him continue the exercise until he had done ten repetitions on both sides. By now, his erection should be gone.

"All done, you can stand up now," Frank said.

John got up, thankful that his dick was no longer making a tent in his shorts, yet fearful of what the stain on the front would look like. Frank walked around to face him, put her hands gently on his shoulders. Her heart went out to him; he looked utterly miserable.

"Johnnie, I know you came just now, and you look really weirded out about it."

"Yeah," John said. "It's ... humiliating." It seemed like he might cry again.

"Johnnie?"

"Yeah?"

"I told you yesterday that I really don't care, right? You're maybe talking to the one person in the world who'd never get judge-y about this with you."

John did not say anything, but Frank thought he was looking a little less pained.

"Didn't I prove that to you yesterday when I literally ate your cum out of your hand?"

"True," John admitted. His face cleared up some more.

"Well, you don't seem to really believe it yet, so let's do it again. Put your hand in your shorts and kinda smear it all over your penis and wherever else the cum went."

"OK."

John reached down and stroked his flaccid cock. He could feel some semen transfer onto it. Then he scooped up along the front of his shorts, where a substantial amount had pooled up. He withdrew his hand. His index finger, in particular, had a lot on it.

"Good, now your cum is OK with me, but your hair is like super fuckin' gross! Sorry." Frank paused. "Well, not sorry actually. Can you remove any that coulda gotten in there?"

John complied, picking out few dark strands. She then took his wrist and brought his hand to her mouth, keeping his index finger level to avoid spilling. She licked along the finger and held the sperm on her tongue, savoring the flavor. Being the biggest single amount of cum she had eaten thus far, she got a much better sense of its texture. It was slightly slimy; she could see why some people disliked it. To her, though, it was intriguing rather than unpleasant. "I wonder how much I could drink at once without gagging?" she thought, her competitive instinct kicking in.

"Got a lot more of it this time. Mushroom-y!" Frank said in a sing-song voice. "I'm gonna say that really is the flavor. It also had a kinda sweet taste, but maybe that was your sweat? I bet ya gotta lot down there," she said, motioning towards his groin.

He tried hard to respond, but words were quite simply unable to form in his neural cortex. Somehow this experience was even more erotic than yesterday's.

Frank continued to clean off his hand, sucking on each finger individually and also thoroughly cleaning off his palm. Every time her soft tongue made new contact with his skin, he felt an electric sensation shoot up his arm.

She put her hands back on his shoulders. "So, dude, you can cum any time you want, if it's just me around. No big deal. OK?"

"OK," John squeaked out breathlessly, through a haze of sexual excitement.

"Now, before you get too excited, there is a little something you need to work on."

He looked worried again.

"Dude. You're kinda ... cumming way too easily," Frank continued. "So while it's totally cool, it would be better if you could, like, control it better, if ya know what I mean?"

"You've got a point."

"Don't get all freaked out! Luckily for you, you just happen to have the awesome-est cousin in the Universe! I think I can help you. In fact, I know I can!"

Frank was not just saying this to make him feel better, she had already started formulating a plan to help her best friend, in various ways. His inability to hold back ejaculations was a new wrinkle, admittedly, but a minor one. In fact, helping John address this problem would, if anything, fit right in to her scheming. "I'll just make this step zero," Frank thought, and could not help smiling.

"Do you know what Kegel exercises are?"

"Yeah."

"OK, Mr. Smarty-pants, what are they then?"

"They're like these, uh, strengthening exercises that women can do to, uh ..."

"C'mon, you can't say the 'V' word after I just ate your cum?"

John's face was a beet now. "Fair point. They're like these vagina exercises that help prevent urinary kinda problems, and help giving birth, and make sex better?"

"Yup! So do you know how to do them?"

"I guess you need to do like you're trying to stop your pee?"

"That's right, and did you know guys can do them too?"

"Wow, no. Or at least if I did, I forgot," he said.

"Well, now you know! And that's what we're going to do, together. We'll do three sets every morning during workout."

She next launched into a detailed rationale. The Kegels would strengthen his "PC" muscle, which in turn would help him maintain control of his ejaculations.

"Oh yeah, before our first session, how about changing your shorts?" Frank suggested. There was a giant stain around John's groin. Nodding his head, he made a step in the direction of his room, but then stopped again.

"Shit!" he said. "This was my last clean pair."

Frank thought for a second. "You know, I think you'd fit into mine; I have pretty wide hips and we're almost the same height. Hang on!"

She returned a minute later. In her right hand was a pair of threadbare black Adidas basketball shorts. She tossed them to him.

"Try those on."

John expected Frank to turn around, or cover her eyes, but she just stood there looking at him expectantly. He considered asking her not to look, but he also wanted badly to impress her as worldly and nonchalant. Thus, after an unnatural pause, he arrived at a compromise. He performed a 180 degree turn, himself, so she would not see his cock while he changed.

Frank was, in fact, mildly disappointed. For one thing, she was wondering if he still had a small dick. She had seen it, accidentally, on a family camping trip some five years earlier; John had been changing in a tent that Frank had thought unoccupied. It was small back then; well below, she presumed, the average. Being under-endowed, she now thought, might be a major contributor to his severe lack of confidence with women. Frank was also hoping he would just be more comfortable around her, generally. The latter point was by far the less concerning of the two, though. "He'll probably chill out soon enough," she thought.

Facing her once more, he now saw the contents of her other hand: two balls, covered in what looked like pink neoprene, attached to each other by a thin cord. One of them featured a string with a ring attached to it, as well.

"Do you know what these are?"

"They're for the Kegels?" John had seen similar products on the Internet.

"Yup, they make 'em harder to do, which makes your vagina stronger. Mom's had me using them for years. You know how she gets about women's health. Wanna see how they feel?"

John felt a stirring in his loins as she dropped the heavy balls into his hand. "Fuck, not again!" he thought.

"Heavy, aren't they?"

"Yeah," he said. "So you, like, hold them in there?"

"Yup. I sometimes leave 'em in for five or six hours. It's fun to walk around and kinda give 'em a squeeze from time to time."

He was really feeling blood flow to his groin now. "Please, God," he thought to himself, willing his organ to behave. Frank, meanwhile, retrieved the balls and stepped back several paces. Still facing his direction, she pulled the front of her shorts away from her body with one hand, reached down with the other, and inserted the two balls. It took her longer than John expected, about twenty seconds.

During this process she took on an air of concentration, looking upwards and biting her lower lip. Although John could not see her private parts, his mind filled in the details. Frank noted the slight bulge in the basketball shorts she had just loaned him. "This fucker is gonna go thru all my clothes before we're done!" she thought wryly.