It is important to go to the gym!

I watch you in the gym.  You have just finished your warm down and grab an ice-cold drink from your kit bag.  I have been watching your yoga stretch from my vantage position on the cycling machine, the tight blue lycra leggings a fixation for my eyes as a calmly pedal.

I can see you are breathless as your chest heaves and fights against the restrictive zip fronted sports bra, the top few teeth slipping down, revealing the hint of sweat forming on your perfect breasts.

You turn once more, your back to me and lunge, stretching your thigh muscles one leg and then the other.  Each time my eyes are drawn to the tightening blue fabric around your curves, hoping for a sneaky impression of the underwear beneath.  The material giving the secrets away of a sporty thong; my voyeuristic kink twitching my cock into life as I push out another kilometre on the machine.

The gym is empty bar the two of us.  I know it is fitness we are both here for, but I cannot help wondering about that lycra and how tight it could be to stretch, pull, play and tug…  My cock stiffens, blatantly visible in the sweatpants I’m wearing and at that moment you turn and reach for your bottle once more, noticing the bulge.  

You smile and I start to pedal faster.  Slowly you walk towards me as I continue my rotations, the bass music of the gym an aid to my cadence.  And in an instant, you start rub my leg, feeling my muscles as they rotate and push against the artificial resistance.  Staring softly at me, your explorative hands make their way to the inside of my thigh and trace in time with the movement up to my throbbing member.

I slow my pace as you stroke and caress my tightening shaft, entirely visible for you to grasp.  Not a word passes between us.

You let go, i murmur, and your hand slides away.  You step over to the weights bench. Sitting on the edge of the small leather padded seat, you face me and then lay down, and start to lift the bar bell.

I slow right down my swelling cock uncomfortable in this moving position.  I am mesmerised.

After a few lifts you point to the weights on the hooks and say, “Would you mind?”

With no further invitation needed, I hop off the machine, smile and start to place a 10kg weight on each end of the bar.  You lay back again, thighs slightly parted.  I cannot ignore the tight material between your legs as you start your reps.  After a few I see you strain but competently continue.

You stop.  “Again, if you please?”

I step back towards the bench, my cock still visible and near to your panting face.  I wonder how those lips would feel on my swelling head. The momentary pause not lost on you as you wait expectantly for the next weight.

I know this bar is getting heavy.  There is caution in my expression, but I position the bar for your hands to grasp once more.  We are so close.  I lean over the bar looking down on you.  “You know this is very dangerous, one slip and this bar would land across your neck, and you would be pinned down, helpless.”

I pause.

“Obviously the safety pins would protect your neck, keeping the weight off you, but the gap, well it would not enable your head to be free, and you would be trapped, restrained, your hands flat against the pads, waiting for someone to help you while you lay helplessly here….”

You smile back at me, shifting your legs further apart to brace for the lift, your chest rolling towards you, escaping the top of your loosening sports top.

I hold the bar as you rep, one… you strain to lift, two… this is amazing but also dangerous.  You smile, the strain showing my first glimpse of what an orgasm might look like on your face.  Then you lower the bar, but just as its about to be held on the lift hook you miss and let it fall to the safety stops.  You are pinned there.  I cannot help but gaze at the situation before me.

A wry smile crosses my lips, and you exclaim, “Ooops!”   The music’s pulsing rhythm vibrates through the air, and your chest moves in laboured breathes.

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“This appears to be an unfortunate position here,” I smirk as a walk round to assess the situation.  My obvious intentions evident below my waistband.

“You look tired and exhausted, and it will take both of us to lift that off safely.  You should not struggle.  Let’s wait a moment to… review the situation.”

I pause and examine the quarry laid out in front of me.

“You look hot, let me cool you,” I suggest.  You try to look up but the bar just an inch above your neck prevents it.  I can tell you are curious to what I might do to you.  You squirm but to no avail.  I can tell you are starting to wonder if maybe this was not a good idea after all.

Restricted, you cannot see my hand above your zipper, you await the sensations.  The faintest of feelings as I tug on the metal slider, the notches of each of the zipper teeth felt through your chest as slowly your confined breasts erupt from their encapsulation.

You cry out as you are exposed to me, the bare skin already cooling fast as the gymnasium fan wafts oscillating a breeze.  Your nipples harden and I can resist no more.  My fingers sliding the redundant sports top away and my hot hands explore, caressing and teasingly tug on your nipples.

You buck and writhe on the leather bench, your feet pushing your hips up and down, as I continue to manipulate your delicious breasts.  An audible moan escapes your lips as i glance up at you.

“I’ve been watching you since you came in today,” I proclaim.  “I was wishing for a moment like this.”

The music pounds on and you start to gently wriggle your hips to the beat, rolling back and forth.  Standing back, I glide back between your legs to absorb the view, the fabric of your lycra tight, the colour changing between your legs betraying your arousal.

Running my hand from your trainers, socks then ankle.  You jerk as I touch the exposed skin, before gliding onto the tight blue material.  My fingers reach the apex of your legs, pausing to sense the wetness of your seeping sex.  Wet and clingy.  I rub the folds of the material and you buck and flinch gasping for air.

“You are a good girl,” I say, “but I have other plans.”

Letting go, i bring my wet fingers to your face, as you stare up at me.  “See…?”  Coaxing you to strain a glance.  “You are very wet for this to be an accident…”

I trace your lips with my fingers, pressing them against your mouth.  You relinquish and your tongue laps at my fingers in confirmation.

“Good girl, now I think I need something before I save you…”  I start undoing the cord on my jogging pants just above your forehead.  You are helpless.  I pull my stiffening cock out of my boxers my balls rest on the waist band elastic, the tip of my cock millimetres from your eyes, pulsing as it teases you.

“Now open your pretty mouth like a good girl and then I may save you.”

You open your lips, the lipstick a contrast to the pink swollen flesh of my cock as it slowly enters you.  Your enquiring tongue lapping eagerly at my head, coaxing a dew drop of cum to form as my laden balls rest on your hair.

Despite your resistance I push the shaft into your mouth, your tongue little barrier against my thrust as I probe your throat.  I cup my hand under your head crooking your neck and allowing easier entrance.  Tears well up in your eyes as you repress a gag.

Relentlessly I fuck your mouth holding your head and bouncing my smooth balls on your teary, and drool covered, face.  The gagging and choking making you squirm and moan in this open and empty space.

You face a sodden mess, my cock and balls slick with drool, I withdraw, leaving the faint taste of cum in your mouth.

I remove my clothes and walk round the bench, your spit still dribbling from my pulsating cock.  “And now I need hydration!”

Pushing your legs further away from the weights bench i kneel on the edge of the padding, your feet on the floor, your wetness exposed in the stretched lycra.  Touching the wet area once more you moan and writhe, as I press and feel, both hands massaging you.  Then.  Between my finger and thumb of both hands I grab the seam and pull.  The stitching giving way with a muffled tear, exposing your soaking sports thong.  You yelp, annoyed, but still wriggling with the rhythm and pleasure, as I run my finger along the elastic of your underwear from the shredded opening I have just created.

I lean in, tugging the flimsy cotton to one side before driving my tongue over your smooth folds, tasting your delicious juices and opening your enticing pussy.

The bar and weights rattle as you fight and strain against my relentless lapping, kissing and sucking.  The exposure of being in the open gym heightening your pleasure.  

Lick after lick.

Suck after suck.  

You feel the pleasure rising inside you, the sensations washing over you with the heavy drum of the gym music.  Eventually, and inevitably, I sense you closing in on your pinnacle of delight.  You shout out, a deep moan so loud the music cannot disguise it, and then you erupt with a crescendo of screams.  Your fountain of pleasure soaking me as I lap the final strokes of your quivering lips.

Soaked, wrecked and dishevelled you lay there, chest pulsing again.  I wander round to you, lean in and kiss your sweaty gasping face before lifting the weighty restriction and freeing you from your captivity.

I embrace you and lift you up.  “I enjoyed that my gorgeous girl.  Good thing we converted our garage to a gym.  Now stay like that and let’s go upstairs and you can empty these balls in your soaking pussy.”