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Workout Heat

By: every_horizon



I see Sean four mornings a week at the gym. He runs the treadmill and I swim, but our schedules are close enough that we arrive at nearly the same time and finish our workouts a few minutes apart.

I thought this a coincidence, at first. But I knew better when I got to know him, and learned to appreciate him in unimaginable ways.

Our lockers are in the same area; you know how it is with routine. From the beginning, I enjoyed the ritual of preparing for our workouts, and if I close my eyes now I can see every detail of the first time I took serious notice of Sean getting ready for his run.

As usual, he arrived in jeans, battered sneakers, a T-shirt and he carried his gear in a knapsack that had seen better days. From two lockers down a little before 5 a.m., he smelled both of sleep and strong musk.

I was ready before he was, wearing a pair of baggy swim trunks. But my goggles needed adjustment, or so I convinced myself, so I sat on the bench tugging at the strap. Of course, this was little more than a cheap excuse to watch him, although with a careful discretion.

Sean was slow and deliberate in getting ready, as though he wasn't going to waste an ounce of the energy he planned to burn on the treadmill. I thought of myself as a card-carrying straight male, and since adolescence I'd not experienced anything even remotely sexual with another guy.

Still, I didn't avert my eyes in the common showers, amid the sight of many other men soaping up, and what's more, I couldn't help but feel a burning curiosity on this morning as I observed Sean.

This was not discouraged by the fact he wore neither boxers nor briefs. I assumed he had rolled out of bed and stepped naked into his jeans, combing his hair with his fingers before stumbling out the door in the dark. With his back to me, he kicked off his shoes, shook out of his shirt then peeled down his jeans, bending at the waist as he stepped out of the faded denim.

Sean was a vision from behind: he had a sharply defined fan of muscle at the upper back, tapering to a trim waist and a round, firm ass, and his powerful hamstrings and calves were sinewy from his running. When he bent naked at this athletic waist, his legs shoulder-width apart, it was me who grew weak at the knees.

His magnificent balls hung fully and tantalizingly between his thighs. They looked heavy, swaying loosely as he moved. I suddenly imagined myself reaching through his legs and taking them in my palm, kneading them, feeling their heat and texture and glorious weight, and when that outrageous idea swept through me, I felt a flood of arousal course through my veins and rush to my groin. Damn good thing I was wearing baggy trunks and not a Speedo.

Sean lingered, and I heard him yawn as he stretched languidly, his back still to me. Slowly he placed his left foot - it is always his left foot first - into the thin strap of his athletic support. Then the right, and almost in slow motion he pulled the nylon and elastic harness up his legs, bending slightly at the knees as his left hand reached in front of him.

It took him a moment to arrange his beefy package in the pouch, and then he smoothed the waistband and hooked his thumbs under the thin straps that cupped his cheeks, pulling them back and snapping them in place. The contrast of the plain white support on his tanned skin was remarkable.

With similar economy of motion, he pulled up a pair of blue Lycra shorts, again digging his hand down the front to adjust himself, then dropped a loose singlet over his head and turned slowly, almost as if to give me the time to adjust my gaze.

"Another day," he said, putting a foot on the bench to lace up a running shoe. I mumbled something equally profound, and then we headed out the locker-room door together before turning in our opposite directions.

"Enjoy your run," I said.

"Yeah, and have a good swim," he replied. "See you in a bit."

Forty-five minutes later, we both saw considerably more than a bit.

It was 5:45 a.m. when I was back at my locker, gathering up my soap and towel. I didn't hear Sean, but I felt the sting of his towel on my bare ass.

I wheeled around and there he was, grinning, twirling his towel again, twisting it into a cloth whip. His eyes weren't exactly staring into mine, and then he looked up and winked. Through my entire swim, and even at this instant, I had been thinking of his body and what he had tucked into his athletic support, and my arousal was plain to see. Now I was facing Sean, and we both realized I was semi-erect.

"Couldn't resist," he said, grinning. I laughed despite myself.

"Nice aim, fella," I replied, turning half away. "Glad I wasn't facing you."

He looked down again, his attention to my embarrassing growth doing nothing to lessen my arousal. And then he undressed. Sean stripped down more quickly than he had gotten ready, peeling off his shorts and jockstrap in one fluid motion. His musky smell was stronger than before, and stronger than the chlorine that still was in my pores.

He turned half toward me and, in profile, I saw I was not alone in my predicament. Sean had swollen to a moderate fullness, his thick, circumsized cock thrusting out, bobbing just a little.

"Testosterone," he said in casual explanation. "Happens after a good workout."

"I hear you," I said, setting off for the showers, holding my towel in front of me, praying that no one else would wander in. I was safe in that regard; the gym was practically empty, and it wouldn't be busy for another hour.

We exchanged a little small talk, cranking open the taps at adjacent shower heads, and stood beneath the flow. I was not facing Sean and thought, mistakenly, that some idle chatter would cure my problem. But then I looked to him as I turned in the spray and saw him at full staff. He was an astonishing sight.

We continued to chat, and in a few minutes his body was bubbling in a soapy foam, suds dripping from his shoulders and over his broad chest to his groin. His loose fist was beginning to pay special attention to this area, and his moderate fullness had given way to a raging hard-on.

"Don't just stand there," he said brightly. "Join me."

I thought my heart was in my mouth, and with no sign of anyone else in the locker room, my hand dropped to my cock, which by now was also fully engorged. Wordlessly, and dare I say eagerly, I joined him.

I looked down at my erection, which was slipping fluidly through my hand, then to Sean. He was staring unabashedly at this, clearly turned on by what he was seeing. I felt like I was an adolescent again, behind the shed of my best friend's house, unzipping with a buddy and jerking off in great lustful need.

I returned Sean's look. He had reached behind himself with his bar of soap and had smeared it over his ass, and now he was reaching between his legs. This afforded me a complete, unobstructed view of his cock, and it was a specimen the likes of which I had not seen.

He was finely cut, and as dollops of foam dripped off his thick shaft, I saw his thick mushroom head, almost purple in color, bloated. I guessed him at 7, maybe 8 inches, and absolutely a mouthful. His balls were enormous, and in this wet heat, they hung lower and more loosely than they had when I'd ogled them as he had undressed.

There was a primal need we now shared, and this act seemed the most natural thing in the world. There is a unique sound made by a hard cock in a wet, soapy fist. You know it: it's an arousing, sloppy sound of swollen flesh in a tunnel of fingers, of heavy, full balls slapping against thighs as the motion becomes quicker.

All inhibition now gone, Sean and I stared at each other below the waist, mumbling to ourselves and to each other. By now I was leaning against the wall, using one arm for support. He was busy with both hands, pawing at his balls, pulling them, dipping lower, his middle finger burying itself knuckle-deep in his ass, pistoning in and out.

It occurred to me that we were almost facing each other, less than three feet feet apart. The heat was incredible, and almost without warning, Sean was there. He grunted deeply, and it was then I saw an opaque stream arc from his cockhead, projected with violent force. It struck me directly in the navel, in a viscous glob.

I didn't recoil. Instead, I turned to face him squarely, offering him a broader target as I stroked, inviting his aim. He shot again and again and again, each of his spurts splashing my hand, my cock and my left thigh, his cream dripping off me to the tiled floor.

Almost immediately he set me off, as though he had squeezed my trigger. I came in a torrent as well, and as Sean was milking the last from his balls, I throbbed a copious load onto his body, from his stomach down to his loins. He scooped my cum into his palm and stroked himself some more, using me as a lubricant, and I thought I was going to pass out.

The shower spray soon pounded us into submission, and that's just as well. There was a little noise at the far end of the room, others arriving for their workout. I was never more grateful for being flaccid than I was now, and yet never more eager to be hard again.

Sean and I dressed in near silence, and headed out into the parking lot together. A very small part of my curiosity had been satisfied, but now I also knew this: I needed this man's cock between my lips. Soon.

"How about 4:30 tomorrow morning?" I said to him.

Subtlety wasn't my strong suit.

"I'll be here," he said, and when I arrived at that ungodly hour the next day, half expecting to never see him again, Sean was already at his locker.

"Thought I'd skip my run today and head straight for the sauna," he said.

Then he stepped out of his jeans, his thickly veined cock massively hard, a bead of moisture at its tip. He dipped his finger into it and smeared it around the fat head. It glistened invitingly.

I decided I didn't need a swim after all, and as I dropped my jeans to my ankles, wearing neither boxers nor briefs, I realized I was very, very hungry.

Workout Heat Ch. 02



(a story continued for a friend)

For a moment the morning before, I thought I had satisfied my bi-curiosity. But then I realized I had only started to chip through the ice.

Standing in the showers with Sean, feeling the heat build around me and inside me, watching his thick cock glide through his soapy fist as I stroked rhythmically beside him, had not let me concentrate the rest of the day, or sleep much that night.

I had watched him as he had watched me. Our bodies hadn’t touched, but the creamy fluid our bodies produced had, and I could almost still feel his cum splashing my torso, hand, cock and thigh. I had wondered what this must be like, and in reality, it was more fantastic than I ever imagined.

I slept fitfully with the image of his thickness in my mind, and this without ever having had a good close look. Now, as I bent naked to pick my jeans up off the locker-room floor, my face coming within a foot of the generous erection that jutted toward me, I was getting that look.

Sean carried a wondrous specimen. I so badly wanted to feel its heat and texture, but not here. The sauna offered privacy. Yet I paused as I picked up my jeans, inhaling his scent deeply. His engorged shaft bobbed, pointing upward 30 degrees then falling back down heavily, bouncing, parallel to the floor.

Every bit as appealing were his balls, smooth and loose. They hung generously down between his thighs, perfectly proportioned, the right orb heavier than the left. I felt dizzy and I slowly stood, taking in the short hair above his shaft, the fine trail up to his navel and the spreading, light mat that covered his stomach and chest.

“Nice,” he said, and then I saw Sean observing me. I was semi-erect, at the delicious state when arousal has set in and the blood is rushing to accommodate it. “You’ve got to promise me one thing.”

I looked at him, without a word.

“Me first.”

I grinned, probably a little flattered that he had needs to be fulfilled, too.

“My pleasure,” I said, knowing full well that it would be.

We wrapped ourselves haplessly in towels, took the dozen steps to the sauna, and Sean pulled the door open and preceded me inside. I pushed it closed.

The room was dimly lit, the soft sound of hissing steam coming from the bed of rocks in the corner, and there was a strong scent of cedar. And then I felt Sean’s hand at my waist, pulling away my towel. He pushed me gently down onto a bench and crouched before me, his hands on the inside of my knees.

“I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday,” he said, a little breathless from the steam or the moment, and then he spread my knees wider apart.

I looked down to him and saw him moving closer, his eyes wide, his mouth opening. Already I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead, and now his fingernails were lightly scraping my thighs. My cock had swollen to its full thickness and length, and it pointed up to my navel, lying fat and hard on my groin.

Sean’s hands moved up the inside of my thighs, slowly, and he gradually turned his palms inward. And then I felt my balls in his hands, resting there in the damp heat. He closed his fingers and began to knead me, a delicate massage that nearly sent me through the roof.

He needed no direction, not that I was capable of providing any. He was touching me as he probably touched himself, and now, my first same-sex experience suggested to me that another man surely knew what felt right.

I was transfixed as I looked down at him. I felt my hands, with a purpose of their own, on his head, my ass lifting just a little off the bench. My body language was speaking words my voice couldn’t find, and he understood completely.

Sean’s tongue passed between his lips and it dipped between my balls with agonizing pleasure, gently at first, then with a little more force. He leaned in and licked upward, to the base of my cock and up along the thick, pronounced vein that curled its length. He stopped just at the ridge of circumcision, licking from left to right, then wrapped a hand around my shaft and pulled it down until it was throbbing almost angrily at his face.

He looked up at me, smiling, shaking just a little, and said nothing. But he opened his jaw, and the heat in the sauna suddenly had nothing on the depths of his wet mouth, into which my cock slowly disappeared.



Workout Help



{There is no official cheating here, only some light flirting. As you read this, keep this in mind. I know I like to be warned in which direction a story will take. Hopefully my grammar and spelling is fine. If there's anything you don't like, please feel free to let me know.} 

*

Erin had fairly recently decided to work out. Throughout high school she did not participate in many physical activities. She wasn't too bright either so she didn't participate in academic extra-curricular activities either. Erin was simple, and only did what she needed to in order to pass her classes. In no way was she overweight, but her body was softer and thicker in some areas. Luckily they were more filled in the right spots, with her having bigger boobs and a fuller ass than most other white women, which looked good on her average height. Even though she had more meat on her than she wanted, she still kept an hourglass-like figure. Erin wished for bigger boobs, but her 36 C's were more than enough for her husband, Sam.

Her butt on the other hand, was pretty big. Even though her husband loved to see it shake and jiggle, Erin was not happy with it. She wanted a smaller, tighter ass. About two years ago, when she hit 30 years of age, she decided to start working out. At first she only exercised indoors, on her treadmill and using other workout videos, but recently she decided to workout with a trainer. A private trainer. Since she didn't want her husband to worry about her spending too much money, she opted to go an ad she found in the paper. She couldn't believe the ad.

It said the first 8 sessions were free, and there was one session per week. When she called the number the guy on the other line explained to her that he was a student and wanted real world experience for his thesis, or somesuch thing. It made sense to her the way he explained it. After the eight weeks, however, she would have to pay $10 a month. Still an unbelievably cheap price, she could not pass it up and promptly went to his house the following week. 

That was 10 weeks ago. 

Now she was well into her first paid month, and felt better than ever. Her trainer had even given her some tips on working out and also a training regimen to use at home, which Erin followed diligently. For two weeks now she was exercising daily, only going to her trainer's house on Wednesday at noon. Every other day she also worked out at noon, except for the weekends. The weekends were her rest days.

By now her husband knew she exercised at noon. It didn't affect him, though. He worked every day from 8 am to 5 pm, unless there was trouble at work, and rarely came home for lunch. It was even rarer for him to come home early. 

On Thursdays Erin would jog. Now she confidently jogged outside. Her butt would still move more than she wanted, but her trainer had convinced her it did not move in a gross manner. He convinced her that it moved beautifully, and hearing it from someone who wasn't required to say it, namely her husband, made her feel good.

The next day was a set of exercises Erin could do indoors. It consisted of sit ups, jumping jacks, other general exercises, and started and ended with some yoga stretches.

That morning she waved bye to her husband as he drove off to work, and began to do some daily chores, but looking forward to doing her exercises at 12 pm.

It was at 10 am she got a call from her husband.

"Hey babe," Erin answered, seeing it was her husband.

"Hey hun, I'm gonna be leaving work early today-" Sam said.

"Yay!" Erin said excitedly, cutting Sam off before he could finish.

"Babe," he chimed in, "I'm gonna be going to the house but I'm bringing home a bunch of guys from work. You know how we have our weekly Friday night poker game, right?"

"Yeah," Erin replied, now thinking her exercise routine may be thwarted.

"Well, we figured since it's Arnold's birthday today that we'd get things started a little early."

"Okay...but you know I gotta exercise at noon, right babe?"

"Honey, you do what you gotta do, don't worry about us, ok. Pretend we're not even there."

"Okay, babe. Just leave me the living room, that's where I do it all."

"Hun, you know we have our game by the kitchen. But, um, I'm gonna let Arnold pick the movies today, since it's his birthday and all, so we will have the tv on."

"That's alright babe, I don't use it. See you in a couple hours!" and with that Erin hung up.

She was relieved her exercise routine wouldn't be affected, but was just worried her husband might still interrupt her while doing it. 

Being the great wife she is, Erin decided to prepare some snacks for the guys. She knew most of them pretty well, and knew their wives and kids also. Most of them also knew how much trouble Erin and Sam had in trying to have a baby. It's not something she liked to talk about, but it had come up in conversation in the past.

But right now she was focused on getting the sandwiches ready, and also some wings she found in the freezer. Before long her husband and the guys would be home and soon she'd be exercising.

At about 11:30 am her husband got home with a bunch of guys. Apparently they had carpooled, which was good, Erin thought to herself, because they were polluting less. Erin pointed to where she had placed all the snacks and her husband got very happy and went towards his wife and wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, twirling her about for a second. Even though she was wearing sweats as her bottoms, her big butt was still stretching out the material, and when Sam put her down, they were both in a profile view to most of the guys. Trying to not give a vulgar display, Sam reached with his right hand, the hand opposite of where the guys were, and grabbed a handful of ass and gave it a good, hard squeeze. He thought that they wouldn't really be able to see what he was doing, but he was quite wrong. 

There was no question to what he was doing. Everybody knew he was grabbing and squeezing a good piece of fleshy meat, and even though those with wives were all happily married, they could not help themselves and imagine they were the ones grabbing that soft flesh meat. Some even went further and imagined she was bent over completely and they were humping away at it. But still, they loved their wives and would never cheat on them. Those who were single had no worries about cheating on anybody, but they respected Sam and Erin and did not want to cause any problems between them. But in their dreams they had done some really nasty things to her.

Sam reluctantly let go of the flesh in his hands and proceeded to get things started for the poker game. In no time the table was set up next to the kitchen. The way the house was set up, you could see the entire living room if you sat at the poker table, which of course meant you could see the tv as well. Unfortunately, Arnold's chair was facing away from the television, and he really wanted to see the movies he brought. He had a thing for Megan Fox, so he had with him the first two Transformers movies, as well as Jennifer's Body. It was decided to put on Transformers first, and maybe the latter movie last, if at all. 

None of the other guys had a thing for Megan, and they weren't really into that last movie, but they all did like Transformers, having grown up with them. Sam himself had one of the original Optimus Prime toys.

It was now 11:55 am and the movie had started, but realizing Arnold couldn't see a thing, Sam, who sat opposite of Arnold, decided he'd switch seats with him today, that way he could stare at Megan's body. 'Poor sap,' Sam taught to himself, 'he's never really had luck with women.'

It was now 11:59am and the movie was playing again, with all but one of the eight guys sitting at the table having a view of the movie on the tv, and a view of the living room also.

From the hallway, behind and out of view of Sam, strode in Erin, wearing a loose tshirt. What was under the tshirt also looked pretty loose, since all the guys were watching her boobs sway under the shirt as she confidently walked in. Their eyes hesitantly traveled down and took note of her very small shorts. They were tight around her bulbous ass, and were short enough you could begin to see the bottom curve of her ass cheeks. She strode in all the way to her workout area, which was just a few feet from where the television was. If it hadn't been for the ten weeks she had been with her personal trainer, she would not have had the courage to exercise out there in front of the guys.

None of the guys could believe the sight before them. They had seen her before in bikinis, but seeing her in this state of dress/undress, they were starting to sport hardons. The lack of panty lines proved Erin was not wearing any underwear at all. Never in their life did they ever dream of seeing Erin in this state. What they saw next was something they didn't imagine to see in their wildest dream.

Erin, with her back to the guys, turned her head slightly to them, as if she were contemplating something, paused for a second, and then with no further hesitation crossed her arms to grab the bottom of her shirt and swiftly pulled it up over her head, and tossed her shirt off to the side.

All the guys, except for her husband who was oblivious to the sight behind him, could see a partial bob view. Erin's boobs were full enough you could see some meaty round flesh sticking out the sides. With her arms down you couldn't see her boobs, but as she would stretch out her arms up, then to the side, they all got to see different side boob views of Erin's lovely orbs.

Sam just laughed to himself, thinking that all these guys needed to grow up because a silly little movie like Transformers was mesmerizing all of them. He had to keep reminding the guys it was their turn to bet, and all the guys knew if they wouldn't stop staring for that brief moment they had to play their turn, then they wouldn't be able to stare at all since Sam would promptly put a stop to Erin's show.

Erin, however, didn't think she was doing anything wrong. Sure at one point in her life she never would have thought of revealing herself like that to a group of guys, but her trainer had convinced her it was all ok, especially because she had such a beautiful body. She had 'learned' it was ok to do what she was doing at that moment. Her trainer had explained to her it was no different than a woman who wears a bikini to the beach. 

Having now stretched her arms a little, Erin proceeded to put her thumbs on her sides, under the waistband of her shorts, and with a bending over motion, began to pull down her little shorts. Still facing away from the guys, her voluptuous ass came into view, and all the guys eyes bulged out, to which Sam just smiled. 

He thought he'd put on Transformers the next time they played, since he had won the last hand and it certainly looked like he'd win again, because, as he thought, they were all entranced by the movie.

As Erin continued peeling her shorts off, letting them drop to her ankles, the guys could see a slight glimpse of her juicy little pussy. They couldn't make out details, since the lights weren't very bright in the living room, but they could make out the slight puffy curves of a ripe pussy. Some of them swore they could even smell it. 

Seven of the eight guys at the table had rock hard cocks. Sam even noticed a couple of them adjusting themselves, though one of the guys' hands lingered at his own crotch a little longer than it should have. For a second Sam thought that guy was masturbating himself at the table, but quickly threw out that notion.

Now dressed as she should for her workout (from what her trainer taught her) Erin began the first part of her exercise routine, some simple yoga stretches. It was just amazing watching her big boobs sway as she moved from position to position. From the mountain pose where you have your hands above your head, to warrior poses. But when she did the downward dog position, which is like an upside down V where her ass is high up in the air, all the guys groaned a little. 

'Megan Fox must be bent over," Sam thought to himself.

Watching all of Erin's soft curves was heavenly. As she would pick herself up from a pose her boobs would sway, and it never got old for the guys to see them wobbling a little back and forth. They thought to themselves it couldn't get better. But once the yoga stretches were over, the real fun was to begin.

Now Erin needed to warm-up, and the exercise of choice given to her by her trainer was jumping jacks. Unfortunately, Erin dreaded doing them because of how much her boobs would hurt afterwards, but she readily followed her trainer's instructions and would do them every time.

"One," Erin said softly, but still loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Two," she said again, and the guys eyes were staring intently at her boobs now, following them with their eyes as they bobbed up and down.

"Three," and now some of the guys were even bobbing their heads in tune to the beautiful bouncing boobs before them.

"Four," she continued, but then Sam noticed the guys bobbing their heads, and thought the little perverts must be ogling his beautiful wife, shaking his head in the process.

He thought about how most of them also had hot wives, but hot in a different way.

"Five." Erin's boobs were still bouncing seductively, and she could feel some tension starting to build up around her boobs.

Sam thought about the sexy wives for a minute.

"Six."

He thought about how they all looked good in bikinis, but none had boobs or an ass that could match his wife's.

"Seven."

Then his thought went to his sexy wife, and her lovely body, and how good she looked nude, and how these guys would never get to see her charms in the buff, poor saps.

"Eight."

Sam had thought about showing the guys pictures of his wife naked. She had posed for him many times, but he didn't think Erin would ever be ok with it. 

"Nine."

He remembered how she was always self-conscious of her body, and would sometimes even go so far as to turn the lights off during sex, though he loved nothing more than to see her ass jiggle as fucked her from behind.

"Ten."

Which reminded him of the many videos they've made. But that was something he'd never show them. Pictures are one thing, but a sex video is a whole other thing.

"Eleven," and the head bobbing continued, though the counting was spread further apart, as after each jump Erin would pause for a second as she massaged her boob slightly.

"Twelve."

Then Sam remembered how two of the guys there had shown him pictures of their wives completely nude. They were all tasteful pictures though, with mostly side shots and a few frontals. In none of the poses was there a full head on pussy shot, though both friends had admitted to having those pictures of their respective wife. It was too intimate, they said, to show off. However, one friend did say that he had a crass friend that showed all of his own ex-wife's pictures (though at the time the pics were taken they were married). Sam's friend admitted it was hot seeing that lady spreading her lady bits, and even playing with herself, but that he wouldn't do that to his own wife.

"Thirteen."

Sam remembered those nude pics he saw, and thought how he did get a slight woody from the sight of them, but when he got home that day he quickly found his wife's pics and got an instant hard-on at the sight of his nude, curvaceous, spread-eagled wife. If Erin wouldn't have been home that day he would have busted a nut instead of fucking her silly. He was glad she was home though.

"Fourteen," and the head bobbing still continued. The game had also paused also. He felt he would let them ogle a bit. 'Even with her sports bra encased boobs,' as Sam thought Erin was wearing, 'they must have more jiggle than their own women. That's sad.' With that last thought Sam noticed he too was getting a hard-on. He couldn't help himself but rub it a little, knowing none of the guys would notice what he just did.

"Fifteen." 

Still five shy of her goal of twenty, Erin had to stop at fifteen, but still felt proud that she had progressed from only doing ten jumping jacks the first week to now fifteen. If it wasn't for the pain in her boobs she would probably finish. 

Now began the self-boob massage that she would give herself almost on a daily basis. She knew that if she would run indoors she would probably also have to massage her boobs, which was the main reason why she ran outdoors. The law required her to wear some clothing. So her trainer understood, but would tell her she needed to only wear one piece of clothing. Either a sports bra only or shirt only with no sports bra. The same followed for her bottoms. Erin would always choose a sports bra but one alternate between various shorts she had, some tight, some loose.

Back to her self-massage, each time she would squeeze and push against the parts that hurt, she would say 'ow' occasionally, or give a sigh of relief, or a slight gesture of pleasure.

This, Sam thought, was odd. 

The guys continued staring intently. They imagined it was their own hands squeezing those big boobs. Some even imagined squeezing her nipples. It was an amazing sight. Those big boobs squeezed back and forth, then pushed up from under so she could reach the part where her boobs meet her chest. Also pushed down from the top part of the boob that got stretched.

After about a minute of this he had to turn and stayed slack-jawed at the sight before him.

There was his wife, head looking up, as she, according to what he saw, fondling herself for the guys to see.

Noticing Sam had turned, some of the guys pretended to look away.

"Honey," Sam said then paused a little before he continued, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Massaging myself," she responded, "My boobs hurt after I do jumping jacks."

"And you had to take your shirt off to do it?"

"No. But that's because I never had my shirt on babe."

"What?!?"

"I never had my shirt on."

"Why not?"

"Because that's how I exercise."

"Since when?"

"Since the trainer told me that's how I should exercise."

"And when was that?"

"Since I first went to him ten weeks ago. He said it's the best way to exercise. It's natural."

"Are you the only naked, or is he-"

"No silly, he's not naked. He doesn't exercise with me. But sometimes he exercises with the other women. Especially the one right before me."

"What do you mean? How do you know?"

"Well, he's always putting on his shorts as I walk in and she's walking out. It's kind of silly."

"..."

"Babe?"

"Erin, can you at least stop groping yourself while we're talking. I mean, the guys are staring at you," Sam firmly stated as he got up and positioned himself in front of her, trying to block the view the guys had. 

"It's ok babe," Erin said, "this happens all the time. Guys are always staring at me when I'm exercising."

"You mean you've done this before?"

"Yes, silly, I told you I've been exercising."

"When?"

"Since ten weeks ago, silly, I already told you that."

"I mean, when have other guys seen you exercising, like this, the way you're dressed."

"Oh! Well, maybe four weeks ago. My trainer started having a lot of people over and he said not to let them distract me."

"Well, that's nice," Sam mockingly said.

"See, he said that women who go to the beach wear bikinis because that's what you should wear there, right, and if guys look at them they shouldn't shy away. They should be proud of their bodies. Well, he told me that to exercise, you should be naked. That's the best way to exercise. So just like women who wear bikinis to the beach shouldn't care if people are staring at her, women who are naked and exercising shouldn't care if people are staring at her."




Workout Help



"..."

Babe?"

"Is that any reason why you should grope yourself in front of my friends?" Sam asked.

Erin let out a sigh, then said, "Babe, I already told you I'm massaging myself, but it's not really working. I can never massage myself well," and she grabbed Sam's hands and brought them forth to her chest. Just as his hands were grazing Erin's big boobs, she continued, "He always does it better."

"Who?" Sam retorted.

"My trainer," Erin stated.

"What does he do better?"

"Massage my boobs silly, now come on, aren't you gonna massage them?" she asked.

Sam could not believe what he just heard, and he started shaking his head and stormed off through the hallway to their bedroom. 'Could she really be that naive?' he asked himself.

"Babe, where are you going, my boobs still hurt!" she shouted to him, as she continued massaging her boobs.

Erin gave an exasperated sigh and grumbled, "this sucks! Ugh!" and she plopped herself onto the couch.

The guys, for the most part, didn't know what to do, but took delight in seeing her move around so her charms would jiggle and wobble to their pleasure. Especially when she plopped down onto the couch, causing her boobs to bounce once more, and making her give the cutest, sexiest 'ow' they had ever heard.

Some of them even got up to 'make sure she was ok' and admired the beautiful profile they had of her as she sat nude on the sofa. All of them were still sporting hard-ons, and the way she was looking down pouting, made some of them imagine her lips wrapped around their cocks as they fondled her mammaries.

"Are you alright?" Arnold spoke up and asked.

"No," Erin said dejectedly, "my boobs still hurt."

Back in the bedroom Sam was contemplating. He was pissed at his wife letting herself get fondled by a stranger. But at the same time he noticed he was still hard in spite of the image of his wife's boobs being manhandled by a stranger. Or maybe not in spite of. Maybe because of.

Then an image of his wife being fucked by the stranger came to mind, and that only infuriated him. There was no pleasure in thinking about that. Shit, he really hoped he hadn't tricked her into massaging her there. That really made him mad. He would never be ok with anybody fucking his beautiful wife.

But then his mind turned to thoughts of someone 'massaging' his wife's ass, and for some reason that turned him on also. 

'I have always liked it when she's flirted with others and-' he was thinking to himself but then he heard something that broke his concentration.

"I know how to massage them also," Sam heard a voice say from the living room.

'Fuck!' he thought to himself. 'She can't be that naive, can she?' As he finished that thought he hurried back to the living room.

There stood his wife standing straight up and waiting for the pair of hands coming from a slowly walking Arnold who was all smiles as he stared at the most beautiful set of breasts he had ever seen.

"Stop right there!" Sam shouted. "Those are my tits."

He felt vulgar in saying it that way, but it also kinda turned him on.

Arnold froze.

Erin jumped up and down slightly, clapping her hands and shouting yay, but her toes never leaving the floor, however her boobs bouncing softly up and down, just enough to mesmerize but not enough to cause pain.

Sam walked over to her and proceeded to give her the best massage he could.

"Ooh babe, you're good," Erin whimpered softly.

She mewed and gasped as her wonderful husband continued his work on those wonderful globes.

The guys just watched in awe as they got to see those boobs fondled by her lover. This was better than watching a porno, everyone thought, not just because it's live, but because it's between two lovers.

Even though she loved his ministrations, Erin asked Sam, "Babe, can you kiss them also. It really helps when he does that, though you don't have to suck on them. That never really helps but I'm afraid of hurting his feelings."

For a second Sam stood once again in shock, but the thought of her being tricked liked that made is woody into super hard steel, and, though he wanted to just toss her on the couch and fuck her there in front of everyone, he instead tossed her on his shoulder and waltzed down to their bedroom.

He closed the door behind him and tossed her on the bed on her back, then grabbed her legs close to her thighs and dragged her body back to the edge. In a second his shorts were off and he rammed his cock into her very wet pussy, sliding in quite easily.

Right away Erin began moaning loudly, shouting out, "Oh baby, oh baby."

At first some guys thought about leaving, but when they started hearing the moans and shouts they decided to stay.

Minutes later and even the neighbors could hear her shouting, "Fuck me, fuck me, I'm cumming!!"

Without stopping Sam kept going at it, not letting Erin fully recover from her orgasm as he continued pumping in and out of her.

Soon enough she started her loud moaning again. 

Sam then flipped her onto her front, putting her in a doggystyle position, and got to fuck her even harder, loving the sight of her big ass bouncing back and forth against him. Every jiggle as he rammed into her made him get closer and closer to cumming. He gripped her ass cheeks tightly with his hands, and squeezed them hard, to which he imagined the trainer doing the same with her ass. The trainer massaging her ass made him move faster and faster, then Sam slapped her ass and imagining the trainer doing the same might have caused Sam to ejaculate there and then, but the thought turned over to the trainer fucking his beautiful wife in that position, which momentarily caused his rhythm to mess up. 

Trying to get the thought out of his mind, which would have for sure caused him to become flaccid, he flipped Erin over so she was on her back again, and just closed his eyes and fucked her again. Now his concentration was on himself fucking his wife and when he looked down and opened his eyes to the sight of her tits moving up and down obscenely, that made him rock hard again.

Erin was coming up on her third orgasm, and Sam was finally about to reach his. At the same time, both climaxed, and he unloaded one of the biggest loads he had done since his teenage years. His cock was buried deep into Erin's beautiful pussy, spurting load after load of hot cum into her.

When he looked down at her, she lay there with closed eyes but the biggest smile on her face. So peaceful, so beautiful.

He couldn't decide what was more beautiful. Her laying there peacefully, or the white fluid oozing out of her pussy. His cock still semi hard, he pointed it to her vagina and just poked it a couple more times with his cock, catching a little bit of cum onto it in the process.

Feeling naughty, he ambled his way to her lovely mouth, and placed it at her lips. She opened her mouth slightly and he let the cum linger on her mouth. She didn't usually swallow his sperm, or even take it into her mouth for that matter, so this was a rare sight for him to see.

Now satisfied, Sam donned his shorts and waltzed back out to the living room, where all the guys hurriedly sat on the couches and sofas, as if they were watching the movie this whole time. The door to his bedroom he left open, and his resting wife lay on the bed completely uncovered, with her leaking pussy facing the door. The door itself was on the side of the hallway, so you could not see it from the living room. However, if you happened to go to the guest restroom, it only took a couple more steps to see the beautiful sight that lay there.

"So are we playing poker or watching a stupid movie?" Sam asked, to which all the guys murmured in agreement that were playing poker and ambled their way to the poker table.

Oddly enough, some of the guys started to feel an 'urge' to pee, and wondered how soon they could go.

{Depending on the comments and emails I receive, I will decide which direction this goes. If there's something you don't like about the way the story is going, or has gone, please tell me. In my experience, guys tend to like it when their wife flirts, but they reality of something actually happening is a complete turn off. For most guys that is. Then there's the occasional 'different' person out there. I know my husband would never share me, nor do I want to be shared.}