2 comments/ 23420 views/ 4 favorites Gym Time By: GarageGirl The phone rings and it's Matt. "Where are you?" Liz asks him. "I thought you froze to death on some street corner." "Did you work out yet today?" he asked her. Her eyebrows go up, even though he can't see them. "If this about that piece of cake, really, you can let it go--" "What? No, I'm over at Joe D's and wanted to know if you could come over and keep me company. I'm closing for him." Joe D. is Matt's friend who owns a gym on Court Street. Matt works out there and helps out if needed. Apparently tonight he was needed. Liz hesitates. "How much longer are you there for? It's awfully cold to go out..." Matt begins to wheedle. "Come on, you know you want to, you'll feel so much better. And, since you mentioned the cake--" "I'll come," says Liz abruptly, and hangs up. She stands and rolls her eyes at the phone, then grins. She's not entirely positive a nice trot over to Court Street is what she wants with the temperature in the teens, but she'll probably feel better. After the cold and the wind blowing off the harbor, the gym feels as warm as a womb. Matt is sitting at the desk, fiddling with the computer, and as far as Liz can see, he's the only one in the place. "Land office business you're doing here," she observes. "No wonder you wanted some company." "Joe D. said he didn't think there would be anyone, but he wanted to keep it open anyway, just in case. But I think now that you're here, I'm going to lock up." Liz is annoyed. "You hauled me out in this, so you could lock up once I got here? Are you for real?" Matt looks at her almost appraisingly. He seems to be turning something over in his mind, but for a moment or two says nothing. Then, finally, almost as though he's beginning in mid-thought, he says, "...I sort of wanted to be your....personal trainer tonight...." and then trails off. Liz is puzzled and looks at him quizzically. Then he says, "Why don't you go warm up on the elliptical? I know you're dying to get at the machines." As she's beginning to work up a sweat, Matt turns down the lights. Bluesy music has replaced classic rock. Liz is well and thoroughly confused now, but keeps on till the end. As she's finishing the cool-down, Matt appears beside her. "What is going on?" she asks him. Disingenuously, he says, "Did we really need all those lights for just the two of us?" then, giving her no time to answer, "Why don't you start with some lat pulldowns?" Liz loves this machine. It is a guaranteed endorphin rush, every single time, and so she sets the seat and then the weights and starts to settle herself down. "Wait." "What?" "You have such a nice strong back. I'd like to be able to see it while you do this." "You want me to...?" "Take off your shirt. Let me see the muscles work." "Did aliens suck your brain out through your skull or something? What is UP with you?" "Will you do it for me?" Sighing, and somewhat embarrassed, mostly because it feels so strange, Liz pulls her shirt over her head. Her sports bra covers a lot, after all, and it's not as though Matt has not seen every inch of her, and in nearly every state. She starts to feel a bit of a tingle and wonders if he has something in mind--? Shaking her head slightly, she settles herself on the seat again. "Wait.' "What now?' "Is this the weight you usually use?" She says it is. "I'm going to put it up five pounds. I want you to work a little harder tonight." "Why?" "Just because." Okay, now she really does feel a tingle. Although she knows full well that neither of them could ever sustain it, there is the slightest undercurrent in their relationship of Matt being dominant and her being submissive, and it feels as though they've suddenly veered off into that territory. Okay. Five more pounds. She can do it. In her underwear. If that's what he wants. More than a tingle, now, and she repeats that phrase in her mind. "If that's what he wants." She pulls down, as he watches. She can feel the muscles in her back work, and she can feel Matt's eyes on her. "Remember to breathe right," he tells her, and she obediently synchs her breath with the effort. The first few reps are easy enough. As she hits the middle of the set, they definitely get harder. Her breathing is getting more pronounced, too. At the end, she's glad to rest. "How did I do?" she asks him. "You did great, and you looked great. But I bet you could do five more." "Pounds? Didn't you hear me at the end? I'm not sure I can." "There is no can't," he tells her, and sets the weights. "For me." She sighs, and pulls down again. If that's what he wants. At the end of this set her arms are shaking. He moves close to her and rubs her shoulders and down her back. Oh, that feels good...."You did good," he tells her. "Good girl. Strong chicks get me hot, you know that." The slight shortage of oxygen has her a bit addled, and all she can manage is to feel grateful for the rubbing and that she got to stop. "Not another set, please?" she asks. "No, we'll try a different machine." She's hoping for something with her legs, but he tells her that next up is the incline press. "I HATE the incline press," she tells him. "It works your pecs," he tells her calmly. "I want to watch that." Liz can only manage an annoyed exhalation, and then Matt says, "Right now this is what I want," so implacably that she simply walks to the hated incline press. She sets the seat and looks to him for guidance on the weights. "Five pounds more than normal," he tells her. She's truly not sure she can do this, this machine is her nemesis, but she is far too proud to fail in front of Matt. Half-dressed. So, she gamely begins. If that's what he wants. His eyes, as he stands in front of her, have a definite gleam in them. She tends to be muscular anyway, and she knows that between her own natural attributes and the effort she's expending, she has to look alluring. In a sweaty, gym way. The set nearly exhausts her. Her arms are shaking again. "Do I have to do another?" she asks him. He looks at her for a moment, then says, "No, I don't want to wear you out quite yet," and gives her his hand to stand. Once she's in front of him, he starts rubbing her chest. Not her breasts, but her chest. She was already breathing hard from the weights, and now her breath becomes ragged for another reason. He kisses her, hard and deep, then whispers, "Take off your bra." She can't just keep saying, "What?", she sounds like a parrot, so she just looks into his eyes, questioning. "For me....this is something I want," he tells her. The exertion still has her feeling a bit cloudy, but she manages to whisper back, "Say please." A very long pause, as they stand, so close each can feel the other's breath, the only two people in the big, empty gym. Their eyes are locked on each other. Finally, after an eternity has gone by, Matt whispers, "Please." Liz whispers back, "Okay," and reaches behind herself to undo it. She doesn't know how often she's undressed in front of Matt, or how many times he's undressed her, but this feels like the first time ever. She frees each breast from its cup and then stands there, resisting the urge to cover herself. It's so warm that even half-naked she doesn't feel cold, but then she realizes that it might be more than just the thermostat controlling that. "Nice," says Matt. "Nice. Now, see what you've done?" and he takes her hand and puts it on his quite impressive erection. Her hand closes around it, and begins to stroke, and as she does so, more excited now, she leans in to kiss him. Without seeming hurried at all, suddenly each of her wrists are held in his hands, and he's holding her away from him. "Not yet," he tells her. "I want us to wait a little bit." She's still digesting this, when she hears her own voice saying, "Then you at least have to do something for me." "What is it?" he asks her. "Well....take your shirt off, too. It's not the same, but it'll be a little more fair." He tilts his head for a moment, still holding her wrists, and looks her up and down. She sees his eyes linger on her breasts, and to her great embarrassment, begins to blush. He's seen her breasts so many times, and yet-- "Once you're in the next machine, I will," he tells her. Liz wonders what he has in store for her now, and suddenly she knows. There's really only one it can be. She looks to him to tell her, and seeing the question in her eyes, he says, "The triceps press." Of course. It has to be the triceps press. Once arranged in the triceps press, which holds the user snug in its grip, her breasts will rest on the same pad as her elbows. They will essentially be on a silver platter for him. Okay, then, the triceps press. If that's what he wants. She adjusts the settings as she always does, but this time is burningly conscious of being half-naked as she does so. She feels very vulnerable. Not that Matt would, or for that matter, could hurt her, but this isn't happily shedding clothing on the way to bed, this is very different, a little darker. ....And, she must confess, quite a bit more exciting. She slides in, and, as she knew they would, her breasts are on display. "What weight do you normally use?" he asks her. She tells him, and he sets it there for her. Then, "Wait, don't start. Is this back support as close as it can go?" "It's as close as it can go and I can still get in." "I'm going to move it closer." "Then I can't get out by myself.' "Right," he agrees, laconically. Oh. Oh! With the back slid in, she has no choice but to sit up very straight, aligning everything. Matt walks around to the front, smiles, and slowly slides his shirt over his head. Liz smiles back, in spite of the odd situation, because, well, his smile is infectious, and she likes seeing him without a shirt. That's all. He lifts his chin and motions for her to begin. This set is easy. She looks down to see how it looks to him, and he tells her to look forward, not to look down. "And isolate your triceps," he tells her. "Only use them." She does her best, and makes it easily to twelve. Matt, standing, looking at her, is in a haze of his own. Her breasts are slightly flattened on the bottom, resting on the pad, and this has the effect of making her look even more voluptuous than she is. Her nipples are stiff, and very pink, and it's all he can do not to make a lunge for her. But he wants to drive up the tension between them as far as he can get it. He's fantasized about this for months, sitting at the desk, smiling at the members, making small talk and answering the same foolish questions over and over. His escape has been to imagine him and Liz, here, alone, with-- His mind runs up against a wall, because putting the next thing in words is not quite as easy as he thought. With her under his control, is what he means. He doesn't want that most of the time, he loves her just as she is, which is strong-willed, implacable and very much her own person. But this is different. This is a one-off, this is-- A dream come true. "I'm going to put the weight up five pounds," he tells her, and does so. The next set is harder and she begins to have to breathe harder, too. The flesh of her breasts trembles with each breath, and a fine sheen of sweat is beginning to show. Rep number twelve is very welcome. After a rest, when nothing is said, but her eyes are locked into his, another five pounds is added. The whole set is a struggle, he can see, but she's determined, and even though the last three reps are slow and shaky, she makes it. She can't slump, held as she is, but she lets her arms dangle. She understands now that there's no point to asking him if he'll let her out, he's running this particular show, and--oh, hell. That's fine with her. This is the most excited she's been in months, even with their very active sex life. She's actually happy to sit her for a minute, waiting to see what will happen next. What happens next is that he moves toward her, and slides his hands under her breasts so that each one is cupped in one of his big hands. Their eyes still locked, he rubs his thumbs over her nipples, hard, for what seems endless time, but is probably no longer than a full minute. Then he releases them, and says, "Okay, time to let you get up." The seat back is moved back, and she cantilevers herself out, slightly short of breath, more than just the exercise would have warranted. He starts off across the gym, waving for her to follow. She does, now feeling slightly more comfortable with her semi-nakedness. She doesn't want to simply follow, of course, she wants to pounce on him, and push him down onto one of the many seats available, and climb up on his lap, steadying herself if she has to with the hand-grips, and grind up and down on that iron bar of his erection. That's what she wants. She has no doubt that she's going to end up on the receiving end, but how she's going to get there is what's open for question. He stops, and turns toward her. "You're sweaty," he observes. Liz nods. "Now you get to sit and relax," Matt tells her. "That's nice," she says cautiously. "There's only one catch." "What's that?" she asks, though she has a feeling she knows. She could have counted to five in the pause, and then Matt says, his voice slightly thick, "Take of the rest of your clothes." She knew it was coming, of course, because what else was there, but she's still slightly shocked. "Really?" "Really. But the next thing is for you." She toes her sneakers off, not waiting to unlace them, then pulls off her socks. Her black pants follow, and she stands there for a moment in the cotton undies she wears to work out. "Come on," Matt tells her. "The rest. The last. Come on." Not even knowing where to look, they come off too, and she stands there, naked in the biggest space she's ever been naked in. This is really not like being in your bedroom, this makes you feel little and very vulnerable. No clothes, and not even the sheet to pull up in an insecure moment. Even though this is just Matt. "Nice," he says again, and then shows her the next machine. This time, too, she knows a split second before it happens. It has to be the hip adductor, and it is. The squeeze-your-legs-in machine, tastefully placed so it faces the wall, so that armies of women are not opening and closing their legs in full view of every member. "You're going to sit on it, but I'm going to do the work," he says. "Sit down.' This one tilts you back at an angle, as you hold hand-grips low down on either side. Your knees are separated by two pads, and the distance is adjustable. The weights are adjustable, too, of course. After she's sitting, Matt takes the lever and begins to move the knee pads apart, opening her legs. She's never felt so exposed in her life. He stops before she becomes physically uncomfortable, but she's not exactly comfortable with this, either. And she's not quite sure what's going to happen now, though there aren't that many choices. She looks almost beseechingly at him, to see what the next step is. Matt can't quite believe he's gotten her to this point. He knows that if he had shared this fantasy, she would have joined in, because she's nothing if not adventurous, but if he had warned her ahead of time, there would not be that look of slight fear, and of...submission, in her eyes. And for tonight, just for tonight, he is most emphatically getting off on that look. He looks her over, knowing, of course, what he will see. Last night, as cold as tonight, and with snow and wind, had not been a night to go out. Rather, Matt and Liz had stayed home, and indulged in what they called "shaving fun", which essentially meant that he had carefully, and painstakingly shaved her nether parts, describing what he saw as he went. Shaving fun can be counted on to be a crowd pleaser. So there she is, naked, open and bare for him. "Now. I want you to maintain your form for me. I want you to keep your back against the pad, and keep holding on to the grips. And try not to move your head. I'll be able to feel if you do." Then he turns and sets the weights absurdly high. "I can't move those," she protests. "That's exactly the point," he tells her. Oh. OH! He goes down on her knees in front of her, and runs his hands along the insides of her thighs. She's been so desperate to be touched, because that's been dislocating too, this putting her on display, with minimal touching, that she trembles. He runs his fingers over her bared labia, knowing that she's particularly sensitive right after shaving fun. She trembles again. She can scarcely hear him when he says, "Pretty little pussy," and then his tongue is on her clit. She feels the shudder through her whole body, a discharge of the high sexual tension and a resetting at a slightly lower level. He's doing a very thorough job, and even the slight scratch of his beard excites her. She risks looking down, and the sight of his head between her thighs (and her thighs so resolutely held apart) almost sends her over the edge. After everything, she knows it won't, can't be long, but she does her best to make this moment last. He's being more noisy than normal at his job, also exciting, and when his tongue returns to her clit after a sojourn elsewhere, she can't stop herself. Her orgasm feels like a silvery cascade of pleasure, but-- She can't do what she normally does, clench her thighs around his head, she can't adjust herself to moderate the intensity, more than at any other point in this strange evening, she is entirely at his mercy. Normally silent, she begins to moan with every fresh wave--she feels like this orgasm may never end, that she will be here forever, in the pleasure loop. But then, the continued stimulation trips some switch in her and she no longer feels the unutterable pleasure but, rather--ticklish. She tries not to, but she can't help laughing. Matt knows there's no point in going on after that, in fact his goal was to push her so far that this happened. Now he moves to kiss her, but before he does, whispers, "This is what you taste like." Sweaty and sweet and earthy and like the ocean, all at once. She puts her whole soul into the kiss, she's desperate now for a connection with him, she wants to cling to him, but she's not sure she can let go of the grips. The kiss goes on and on, until finally he pulls away and says, "One more thing." He releases the knee pads and helps her up. She's only got one thought in her head now, she wants badly to finish this, and hopes that he doesn't want her to reciprocate orally, she wants to feel him inside of her, filling her up. He seems to want the same thing, he guides her hand once more to his erection. "Are you ready?" he asks. An absurd question, of course she's ready. But where? On one of the floor mats? On the knee-level exercise table? Her on one of the sit-up benches, him at the end? He leads her over to a machine she's only noticed in passing, and can't even remember seeing someone use. She manages to read it: Glutes. Really? "I don't know how to adjust this," Liz says earnestly, as though that's the only thing that matters here. "I set it up so it would be right for you," he tells her and she is stunned at the idea that's he's thought this whole thing through this carefully, knowing that they were going to end up here. He explains it to her. "Bend over and put your abs on that pad, and grab the handles in front." She does so, and her breasts are in the space above the pad; presumably he's chosen this for easy access. It has not escaped her, either, that her ass is more or less in the air. He goes on. "There's a pad back here for your shin...." and guides her left leg onto it. "Now," he tells her, "reach back with your right leg, and there's a pedal back there. Push up--the weights are off--and there's room for me behind you." Gym Time Saturday morning, as we were eating a light breakfast, he mentioned that he needed to go lift. As soon as he told me he wanted to hit the gym I knew what I was going to do to him. I packed my gym bag with calculated precision. I wanted my ass to look amazing in there. I drove, chattering away casually on the ride. He rode beside me, placid and in a good mood. Seemingly oblivious to my ravenous, perverse appetite. I couldn't wait to see him in his workout gear. At the gym, it was a quiet morning. The whole neighborhood seems to get roaring drunk every Friday and Saturday, and the weekend mornings are so peaceful in the gym. There were just a couple of people using the treadmills and ellipticals as we walked in. "Save me a treadmill next to yours," i said, and smiled at him. I wanted to wink but figured that was laying it on thick. "Okay, see you in a minute," he said and I watched his broad back enter the men's locker room. I went into the ladies' room and changed in a hurry, a little scatterbrained from anticipation. I pulled on my favorite black tank top and some gray running tights that I knew really highlighted my "assets". Only the best gear for a gym seduction! When I came out he was already walking on a treadmill, in black running tights and a black t-shirt. He was all covered up, but I could still see his shape. His thick legs and ass looked incredible, so solid. The black complimented his hair and made his golden skin stand out. I made sure to walk around behind him, watching him move, as I climbed up onto the treadmill next to his. I looked up to see him watching me. I grinned, and looked away to fiddle with the treadmill controls in a futile effort to avoid blushing. We jogged some brief intervals for 10 minutes before he wanted to stop. Cardio is the strong suit of neither of us. We stopped the treadmills and I sauntered over to the weights area. I felt his eyes burning into my back all the way over as he followed. My hips maybe swayed a little more than usual. When I glanced up into the mirrors I caught his eye and smiled. He looked down at the floor and I could tell I was getting to him. "What do you want to train today?" he asked. I knew it was up to me to drive this workout onwards if we were going to do more in the gym than stand around blushing and staring at the floor. "Well, I thought maybe we could warm up with some pull ups before we do our tractor tire flips. How does that sound? 괜찮아?" He smiled at that and said, "그래, 좋아요" I loved hearing him speak Korean. It sounded like soft flower petals falling off his shy lips. He followed me over to the pull-up assist machine and watched as I adjusted the weight, mounted the machine, and struggled through my set. He gave me tips on my form, "Keep your chest forward. Core stays tight. Use your lats, not your biceps. You should feel it here." He just barely, gingerly touched my lat as I was struggling up. I switched positions and did a set of dips. As I finished and looked up, he was watching silently at my side. I broke the moment climbing down from the machine and said "All right, your set." He replied, "I don't need the assist; I'll do mine over here." He walked over to the regular pull-up bar. "One day I'll get there," I said. "Oh you will. Just keep working at it," he said. With that he hopped and took hold of the bar. I stood behind and aside of him, and could see his back working with each clean, disciplined rep. His massive legs hung stil. I looked in the mirror and saw his face, intent on the exercise, staring at a point beyond the bar. His arms and neck were dewy. I stole a furtive glimpse of his package, a subtle bulge in his black tights, but didn't want him to catch me staring, so I averted my gaze. After 15 reps he dropped down from the bar and turned to look at me, a big smile on his face. "Feeling good?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "Ready to go get dirty flipping a tire?" I said. "Ready when you are," he laughed. "Come on then," I said, grinning at him. This was my gym, my territory, and I had to lead the way. I strolled through the gym, grabbed a fresh towel and pushed through the double doors to the outside back lot. The lot was deserted. Few people came back here - especially in the heat of summer. There were trees for cover but it was still pretty warm. The lot was on a slope, surrounded by a chain link fence. On the other sides of the fence were a few private backyards and the gym parking lot. Beside the doors, tucked away in a corner, a small concrete parking pad was piled with tractor tires of various size. Not a lot of members were into the heavy lifting. The tires had been sitting for a while. The rainstorms from the last week had accumulated inside the tires. I glanced around for a moment and identified my favorite - the second-largest tire in the pile. My friends and I estimated it weighed about 250 pounds, maybe more. "Here's the one," I said. While he watched hesitantly, I planted my feet against the tire, hunkered down and grabbed the treads with my fingertips. I shoved upwards with my legs and butt, and got the tire halfway up before the water inside sloshed all over my front. Then with a grunt I caught the tire with my thigh and repositioned my hands under it to push it up and over. "Heavy.. fucking.. bastard!" The tire landed like a great, noisy rubber penny. It rolled a couple of circles on its edge, slinging water out before settling on the ground again with a hollow thunk: one flip. "Your turn," I said. "It's less heavy now. Let's go down to the lot and back up the hill." "Okay," he said, smiling. I stood back and watched as he got into position behind the tire, his legs, ass and back all flexed and solid delicious muscle as he came up with it, then placing his palms on the underside to finish the flip. The nasty water sloshed out and wet him to his knees, streaming down the hill in front of us. "That's a pretty heavy tire," he said. "I'm sure you could do the heaviest one if you wanted, though," I said, secretly pleased at his comment. We kept taking turns quickly flipping down the incline, the tire getting lighter, and us filthier, with each flip. When we reached the bottom I caught my breath for a moment. He looked ready to rock some more. "You're really strong," he said, grinning. "So are you," I replied. We reveled in the shared endorphin buzz. "Ready to go back up?" I said. "Yeah, let's go," he said. I started back up the hill. The tire was getting heavier again, and slippery with filthy water as we went back up the incline - steepest at the top. He was really sweating now. It glistened on his arms, neck, and face. His black hair was glittering and dripping. His shirt clung to the muscles in his back. I could see them rippling as he moved. On my last flip I could barely get it up, winded and distracted. The tire slipped from my hand and I caught it awkwardly with my leg. I made a noise of surprise and I felt him jump in just behind me, shoving the tire up and over with me. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Yes, I'm f--" I reeled a half step backwards and bumped into his warm, solid, sweating chest before I turned around, my back whispering the ghost of that touch. I was breathing hard as the scent of him filled my nose, fragrant, musky, masculine. Without even thinking I reached out and laid my right hand flat against his chest. His nipple was a hard bead under my palm as I pressed gently into his muscle and slid my palm upwards to his neck. I looked up and saw his eyes were wide with shock and black with arousal. I stepped an inch closer and clasped him at the waist with my other. He was thick, solid and radiating heat like a furnace. I felt his arms haltingly fold around me, his hands settling just under my shoulderblades. Then I tilted my face upwards a bit and touched his sweet, salty lips with mine. I could taste his sweat on his lips and felt him exhale shudderingly. My eyes drifted closed as I kissed him gently, no tongue, just soft slow kisses. I didn't want to frighten him. He was frozen, breathing hard but not moving otherwise. I drew back, licked the sweat off my lips, and studied him. His black eyes opened and I saw a fierce hunger in his expression as he suddenly squeezed me. My breasts crushed against his chest and I felt his whole body against mine. His cock was a definite presence pressing my lower belly. He drove his mouth against mine and moaned. The sound was so desperate. He kissed me hard and I pressed back, and suddenly our tongues were teasing each other. The kissing kept us both panting. I drew away slightly to touch him more. I threaded my hand up from his neck to his face, stroking his smooth golden cheek. His hair was wet but still brushy and prickled my hand. Who would want dessert if you could devour something this delicious instead? His sweat dripped onto my face and mouth, enveloping me with his scent. I grabbed his short slippery hair and pulled his head back, exposing his thick neck to me fully. I savagely began licking the sweat off his neck, in long firm strokes of my tongue from his collarbone to his jawline. I felt his arms relax their grip on me and slide downwards, his hands resting on the small of my back. A tiny whimper escaped him that drove a stab of lust straight down to my increasingly swollen pussy. I pressed him away from me, his eyes snapping open in confusion as he let go his arms from around me. "Against the wall in the corner," I said, and guided him to the corner of the building, out of sight from the parking lot, among the tires. I pressed his shoulders gently but urgently against the cinderblocks. When his back thumped against the wall, I kept him pinned with my left hand, but slid my right down his body. His abs rolled with each breath, so warm and alive with strength. I kissed him again, melting against him, as my hand wandered further south. When I grazed his cock through his tights, he closed me in his arms again and breathed out violently, a silent sigh. I broke the kiss. "Oh, do you like that?" I asked. "Yes," he whispered. Still so shy. "Do you want me to touch you again?" i breathed low against him. He nodded, eyes squeezing shut, chest heaving. "Ask me to touch you." His face blushed darkly. "Please" he whispered, after a moment's hesitation. "Please what?" I whispered back in his ear, smiling an evil smile he didn't see. "Oh, please touch me," he whispered. "Here?" With one finger, I stroked the outline of his cock from base to tip. He nodded wordlessly, eyes still closed. "All right then," As much as I love hearing a beautiful man begging to be touched, I couldn't keep up the teasing for long. I knew what I wanted to do with that cock. I cupped him in my hand and pressed it up against his abdomen. His body was so wet, I wasn't sure if it was sweat or precum on my hands, but the smell of his arousal hit me again as I massaged his swollen organ through his clothes. He was very firm, like a burning banana standing at attention, and the shy soft weight of his balls below. I felt his hands slide lower again, over the small of my back, to grasp handfuls of my ample ass. "Yesss" I hissed. It felt amazing to be grasped and my ass cheeks pulled apart. I could feel it all down in my pussy. I arched my back into his hands, and kissed him ravenously again. He kissed back harder now, pushing his tongue into my mouth with evident hunger. We kissed for a few breaths before I pulled my mouth back and said, "I want to taste all of you." "Okay," he groaned, his beautiful black eyes heavy-lidded with lust. His hands squeezed my ass and his cock twitched under my palm. I looked down between us and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his tights, carefully peeling them down. He was silent as I exposed his thick, dusky brown uncut cock. It bobbed up gently as it was freed of the tights, glistening on the pink tip. His balls were dark too, and surrounded by a sparse nest of black hair, sticking wildly out in every direction. I wrapped my hand around his shaft carefully, loving the sight of his foreskin gliding back from the head, before I glanced at his face to see his head thrown back against the wall, eyes half-closed, and biting his lip. My body was electrified by the sight of him so undone by lust. I could feel it running like lightning to my nipples, down my spine, and engorging my pussy. "You look so beautiful," I said to him. I slowly fisted his cock a few times, watching his chest heave as he breathed. Then I squatted down in front of him, feeling his hands slide off my butt to rest on my shoulders. I grabbed his hips, and admired the view. His cock bobbed proudly just in front of me. I breathed in his musk deeply as I buried my nose and lips at the base, his soft balls and hair tickling my face. He smelled incredible. I licked a slow path up the underside of his cock. It bounced up and away from my tongue once before landing again. I love to give fellatio to a man who submits. He lays open the most vulnerable and tender parts of himself and his masculinity to me so that I can give him intense pleasure. Unlike in porn, real fellatio can be an incredibly intimate act of surrender. And so it was with him. I looked up to see him watching. I held his eye contact as I gently, slowly sucked his glans into my mouth. He hissed in a breath between his teeth and threw his head back. Then I concentrated on taking him in. His delicious foreskin slid back and forth over the length of his cock as I held him in my mouth. The smell/taste was indescribable. Salt, musk, soap, lust, precum... I let go of one hip to impatiently shove my fingers down my own tights, tugging on my swollen labia and bathing my fingers in my juices. I was sopping wet. My fingers circled my clitoris as I pulled away from his cock, taking gasping breaths and peppering him with kisses. I bent lower to gently suck his balls into my mouth, first one then the other, relishing the sweaty skin's soft texture and his quiet groans above me. Men talk about "balls of steel" to forget just how fragile these parts of themselves are. I love to take them into my mouth - an act of trust, like placing your head in an alligator's jaws. I drew his cock back into my mouth and sucked him vigorously for a few minutes until I felt his hand on my head, pulling me away. I stood up, my hand still down my own pants, and looked him in the eye before diving in for a wild and wet kiss. After a moment he broke away, watching my hand idly working my pussy, and asked hesitantly, "Do you need.. do you want me to.." "I need you to fuck me," I said. "Right up against this wall." He groaned, obviously beyond words at this point. I broke contact with him and stepped to his side to face the wall. He turned to stand behind me, not touching, but I knew he was watching. I peeled my tights down, jutting my ass out and pulling the fabric tight to make my ass bounce like a bubble as it cleared the elastic. I felt his palm rest on the bare flesh my ass, slick with sweat. "I want to feel you inside me, baby" I said. I grabbed against the wall with both hands and arched my back, spread my legs as wide as I could. After a split second hesitation, I felt his knuckles and the tip of his cock as he poked around my slippery pussy, trying to slide home. Each motion was exquisite. He rubbed against my clit a few times before he finally pressed into my vagina. The first stroke was shallow as he stretched my pussy open. On the second stroke, I moaned as he pushed his way into me. "You're so wet," he growled as he shoved deeper. "Oh, fuck me," I said. We soon found a rhythm, urgent and fierce. Our bodies slapped wetly together, his balls smacking my clitoris as his penis massaged my insides. I squeezed him experimentally with my kegel muscles and he groaned instantly. "You like it when I squeeze you?" I teased breathlessly. "That pussy hug?" Talking filthy made me blush crimson even now. "Yeah," he groaned, fucking me with firm, deep strokes. I started squeezing around his cock rhythmically. "Ohh" he moaned, his strokes becoming more erratic. I reached down and masturbated while he fucked me, keeping up the kegels until the orgasm ripped through me, and the pulsing in my vagina was no longer voluntary. I cried out as I rode the waves, the intense rush of pleasure blanking out my brain. He was still fucking me, moaning with each stroke as he got closer to coming. "Come in me, baby," I said, when I could get my tongue to speak words again. "I want to feel it." He moaned again and muttered, "Coming!" as I felt him drive violently into me, pressing up against my cervix and then felt the pulsations from him as he emptied himself inside me. After a few lazy, twitching extra pumps with his softening cock, we were still for a moment as we caught our breath. He ran his hands down my back and ass as he slid, spent, from my soaking vagina. I could feel his come inside me, slowly oozing out of my pussy as I stood up, pulled up my sodden tights, and turned around. I watched him stuff himself back into his clothes uncomfortably. He put one hand on the wall above me to brace himself, and I wrapped my arms around his big back. I looked into his black eyes as he smiled sheepishly. We shared a half-embarrassed laugh, before our mouths met for a long, sated kiss. "Good workout?" I said, grinning. "Best I've had in a long time," he replied. Gym Time She does so, and is immobilized and presented to him, open, and he can even see her wetness. She hears him slide his shorts off, and then she feels him gently probe her. To see if she's ready? She's never been more ready. Then she feels him slide inside of her, and he feels bigger to her than he ever has before. Shaved as she is, she can feel everything, the feeling of his hair against her, and when he begins to thrust, she can feel his balls. His thrusts are so strong that she's almost glad she has something to hold onto--if this were at home, her head would be knocking the headboard. She's moaning and he's actually grunting with each push. Warm to begin with, she's now hot, and dizzy from her head hanging down. One final thrust, one almighty groan and he stands for a moment, his hands clasped on her hips. She feels him pulsing and contracts around him, not even feeling the strain in her leg that is still in the air. He bends over top of her, warm weight, and slides his hands down her back and around to cup her breasts for a moment. Then he says, "I'm going to step back and you can let your leg down. I'll help you out." A moment later, she's standing in front of him again, finally both of them naked, and he takes her into his arms. Their kiss this time is tender and long and more intense than their kisses have been for a long time. "That was amazing," Matt says to her. Liz, to her utter surprise, says, "I know. Thank you.' They stand there for a long moment, simply wrapped up in each other, naked together in the big space. They can see headlights on the street, hear conversation from passers-by, but no one can see them, and no one knows they're there or what they've just done. There's a pile of towels and he gives her one to wrap around herself, for which she is profoundly grateful, and one to clean up with. As she sits on the edge of a bench, he wanders around, collecting her clothes. Matt hasn't bothered with a towel, he has the casual disregard of nudity of the life-long athlete, and Liz lets herself enjoy the sight of his slender, well-muscled body. She's certainly earned the right to sit and watch, she thinks. Court Street is even colder after the warmth of the gym. Liz still feels a bit shaky and clings to Matt's arm as they walk the few blocks back to her brownstone. "How did you ever come up with all that? How did you choose the machines? It was like I walked into a porn flick and I was the star." He grins at her and says, "And a very good star you were, too. I just chose the ones I thought I'd like to see you on. Except the next-to-the-last one. I chose that one because for once I wanted to go down on you and not worry you'd break my jaw when you started to cum." She gasps in mock horror. "It's true," he tells her, "you have no idea the force you generate then." "Consider it a compliment, boy," she tells him, "and stop complaining," and they walk up her steps laughing.