Gym Session

Four o’clock in the morning. I was wide awake. Again.

I’d been staying at this smart Korean hotel for four nights now and I still hadn’t got over the jetlag. It was hot and stuffy in my room, even with the window open. I hate sleeping with the air conditioning on so I have to suffer the consequences and bear the sweat and discomfort.

Sometimes I get up and watch a bit of TV. Or maybe read a bit. Or perhaps listen to the radio and hope that will send me off. This time I decided I would get rid of some unwanted energy in the hotel gym.

The gym was right down in the basement. It was well equipped and quite busy at peak times but I had noticed it really thinned out at other times, so this was my chance to get the machines to myself. I pulled on my middle-aged man’s Lycra, trainers and headed downstairs.

The hotel, huge as it was, seemed deserted at this hour. It was a little late for evening revelers and too early for the morning rush. I was in a No-Man’s-Land time zone.

The gym was open twenty-four hours and I let myself in with my room key. The lights snapped on as I entered and my eyes got a bit of a shock with the intensity of the lighting. But the room was empty of people and I had the machines all to myself.

I crossed over to the far wall, mirrored from top to bottom, where there was a bank of running machines. I dragged myself onto one in the middle and set it going. Soon I was running, lost in my thoughts but still not at all sleepy. Damn.

About five or ten minutes into my run I was woken from my zombie reverie by the noise of the door-lock activating. I glanced ahead of me and in the mirror saw the door open behind me. A woman, also in tight-fitting Lycra sports-gear, entered the room. She had on a base-ball cap over her dark hair. She was wearing tight, thigh-length shorts, light grey with a curving pink stripe, and a looser light burgundy singlet over a dark sports bra. She looked well tanned, Mediterranean perhaps, certainly not Asian or Northern European. I guessed her to be in her thirties, early forties perhaps, very trim; no stranger to a gym then.

She clocked me straight away and did that thing of ignoring me and carrying on about her business, even though we were the only two people in the room, maybe the only two guests awake at this time of the morning.

I carried on running, watching her in the mirror, trying not to make it obvious that I was keeping tabs on her.

She started at the back of the room with some stretches. Damn, she had a terrific physique. She wasn’t especially tall but she had good, firm legs with an even tan on the exposed skin. She looked strong without being muscular; she would look great in a long dress. As she reached up to stretch to the ceiling, I could see that the sports bra was having to cope with quite a considerable chest. She was well endowed there, no doubt about it.

After her warm-up, she approached the running machines. Which one to choose though? To use the one furthest away from me would seem like a snub. But obviously she couldn’t use the one next to me either — too forward. So she tried the one two machines away first… only to discover that it was a system she hadn’t used before and she didn’t know how to operate it.

She stood toying with it for a bit and then shot me a couple of glances.

I slowed my run down to a walk.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Si, gracias,” she replied. Aha. Spanish. Or maybe South American? Who knows?

She stepped over to the machine next to mine and I talked her through the operation and in no time at all she was up and walking.

“Can’t sleep either?” I ventured.

“Si… it’s the jetlag,” she replied with a smile. Nice smile too, very pretty teeth. Nice big eyes too under that cap. And freckles. Her voice was low and sexy, like a smoker’s.

“Yeah, me too,” I said. “I hope a bit of exercise will help me get off.” Hmm. That didn’t quite come out right… although, in retrospect…

We continued in silence for a bit, side by side, me running and her walking on various inclines.

My programme ended and I got off the machine. I fetched a small towel and wiped myself and the machine down. I grabbed a drink of water from the dispenser. Then I headed to some of the weight machines.

The first one I chose was for the triceps; I adjusted the weights and sat on the stool. I hadn’t actually meant to set it up like this, but I found myself staring almost straight at the Spanish woman as she walked. I was directly behind her, hidden from her sight in the mirror by her own body so I had an unobstructed view and therefore a chance to give her a detailed look-over.

On closer inspection her skin-tight shorts were almost sheer, so that I could see the line and color of a black thong underneath, separating her butt cheeks. Watching these cheeks move as she walked was a thing of beauty. They were firm, yes, but they undulated majestically as she strode, stretching the material with each step. The back of her legs was smooth and a gorgeous coffee color. She was in great shape.

I pushed out several reps on the machine while I scrutinized her and then realized I would really have to move or she would rumble me. So move I did, on to the next machine.

Presently her own workout on the treadmill came to an end and she stepped off it. She was glowing now; I think that’s what they call it when a woman works up a light sweat. As she turned back into the room, I could see that her face was a delightful pink.

She took off the baseball cap and mopped her brow. Her lovely dark hair dropped around her shoulders. She tossed her cap on the floor in the corner where she had put her electronic door-key. She tried tying her hair up in a make-shift bun at the back of her head but strands kept coming loose.

I realized that the air conditioning in the gym was not working especially well. It was actually a bit stuffy in here too. I hadn’t really noticed before now, until I had seen her look so puffed. We were both ‘glistening’ quite a bit by now.

She crossed to the water machine and bent over for a drink. Again I was treated to a wonderful view of that great ass as the material stretched thin on her backside. Well, this was certainly a turn for the better.

Now she started some reps on the weight machines too, clinking the weights as she adjusted the pin and settling herself onto the stool.

It was crazy; I don’t know how it started. The room wasn’t small, there was plenty of equipment about, but we seemed to fall into some kind of rhythm. She happened to begin right opposite me, on a machine designed to exercise the pectoral muscles. So she has gripping the bars either side of her body and squeezing them inwards. But by doing so, she was inadvertently thrusting out her chest between reps; those glorious boobs were jutting proudly out at me with each rep.

I, meanwhile, was busy pulling down on an overhead bar, my biceps bulging with the strain. Without realizing it, we fell into a sort of rhythm, timing each pull and jerk in concert with each other.

I think I must have noticed that she had become aware of me about the same time I clocked that we were in sync. Her breath was coming out in gusts with the effort, little high-pitched squeaks. I was similarly noisy; low, guttural grunts. If you had closed your eyes, it would have sounded like we were having really energetic sex.

I almost laughed out loud. I had to stop… and she stopped too. We got up and moved to different machines at the same time, almost nervously pacing around each other, without looking one another in the eye.

I now selected a bench at a downward angle that held my legs high up in place while I did abdominal crunch sit-ups. Nothing wrong there.

Except that, as I came up on my first crunch, I looked straight ahead and saw that she had chosen a weights machine directly opposite, one that strengthens the thighs by requiring you to squeeze your legs together.

So now, every time I managed to curl upwards, I was greeted by the sight of her releasing her legs and opening her thighs, right in front of me. I was unable to do anything but stare straight into her crotch. It took just two reps for me to clock the most gorgeous camel toe in the fabric between her legs, so close did the tight material hug her body.

Well, after only two or three more of these sit-ups, the erotic nature of the whole set-up took hold of my imagination and my cock began to stiffen. Now, this was really awkward, because I was only wearing a pair of Lycra swim-and-run shorts, no underwear, and, to make it worse, the angle of the bench meant that, as I lowered myself back down, my groin was thrusting straight upwards. All she had to look at was my gradually enlarging shorts; the bulging silhouette would have been unmistakable.

Each time I came up, I tried to scan her face to see if she had noticed but she was impassive. Maybe I caught her once or twice quickly looking away but I might have imagined it. I tried to think of something else to calm my gradually engorging member but her thighs were right there in my eye-line. Help!

I reckoned twenty reps were enough anyhow. I clambered off the machine, aware that my shorts were undeniably a different shape to when I had started. I avoided looking at her.

While I was trying to decide what to use next, she finished her reps too and got up. She had worked up quite a sweat and I gulped inwardly as she reached down and whipped off the singlet in one easy movement, throwing it down by her cap. Now she wore only the sports bra on her top. Her stomach was taut and dark. Her sports gear clung to her waist, the sports bra even more so to her breasts. Her nipples were clearly outlined under the fabric and the cut-away sides showed a hint of side-boob. Her skin glistened all around and damp patches showed where the sweat was running between and under her cleavage.

My own top was drenched with sweat. I bet it was pretty disgusting to look at. I took a bit of a risk, considering my age, and took it off as well, chucking it onto the floor nearby. I would have to hold my stomach in a bit but I wasn’t in bad shape, all things considered. I could see in the mirrors that my whole torso shone in the light, almost as if I had poured a bottle of baby oil over it.

Meanwhile, I had spotted a big machine in the corner which had two hand holds at head height that you could stand in front of and pull inwards, into the room. I reckoned this was the next one for me.

When I had selected my choice of weight and grabbed the handles, I turned and saw with a shock that she had chosen a bench directly in front of me, only a few paces away. She was lying on her back, feet towards me, a couple of small dumbbells in her hands. Her legs were splayed either side of the bench, feet planted on the floor, her crotch defiantly thrust out on display. She was looking straight up at the ceiling, still ignoring me, as she pushed the dumbbells up and away from her. Yeah, but she had had the whole room to choose. Why was she exercising on this particular bench, I wondered?

Well, that’s fine, time to get on with it… but now every pull on my weights had me straining forward into the room, in a sort of arc that was directed pretty much straight towards her crotch. That camel toe was pretty much winking straight at me. Meanwhile her arm movements were making her breasts heave with each rep, her stomach contracting tantalizingly with each move.

Again, somehow, we got into sync with each other. Her dumbbells must have been just at the limit of her endurance because she was making a really sharp whimpering noise, like Maria Sharapova in her heyday. I was blowing out air too as I worked. The two of us had a real thing going here; grunt, sigh, whimper, grunt, sigh whimper.

She adjusted her feet as she paused between reps. She jostled her hips, pushed her groin up into the air, her buttocks lifting clear off the bench. It was almost as if she were proffering her most private area towards me. Had she noticed that my cock was now as stiff as a rod? There was nowhere for me to hide. What could I do?

Then I suddenly noticed she was looking me right in the eye. There was no mistaking that look. The smell of sweat, the working of bodies in close proximity — well, it wasn’t just me that was getting aroused.

I let the weights go with a bit of a clatter. Sorry about that. Bad form. But I was staring straight into her face.

“Vamos,” was all she said, her voice an octave deeper than it had been before.

Okay!

One step was all I needed to be right up to the bench, standing between her legs. I looked down at her. She was still holding the dumbbells over her chest as she looked at me! Otherwise she was completely at my mercy.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

I don’t know — maybe the frustration at not being able to get proper sleep, perhaps it was the pheromones running riot in the room, the combination of straining bodies and the sweet tang of sweat, but I felt a lust rage up inside me that I couldn’t control.

I reached down with both hands and snatched at the waistband of her shorts, catching the thong underneath in the process. She instinctively lifted her buttocks up again as I tugged roughly at her shorts; they peeled off her abdomen in one easy go. I kept pulling, drew them right past her knees, as she momentarily clamped her legs together around me. She wiggled for me as I wrestled her shorts and thong off over her trainers and then flung them across the room, vaguely in the direction of the rest of her clothes.

She lay on the bench before me in only her bra and trainers. Her wide eyes stared back at me, the blood most definitely up. There was no doubt that she was as infected as I was by this crazy lust.

And what a glorious mound greeted me between her legs. I had seen the outline of her lips through her shorts but the darkness of her skin where she had shaved was tender and inviting. I wasted no time but sank to my knees, grabbed her knees with each palm and forced her legs even further apart. Then I bent down and fixed my mouth on that amazing pussy.

I sucked at her with what can only be described as abandon. There was no finesse or technique, just naked lust, as if I had been on a desert island and this was the first well I had encountered. I grabbed at her naked buttocks on the bench as I quenched this insatiable thirst. I had time to marvel at the feel of her ass-cheeks in my palms as I squeezed them. Her thighs were already hugely slippery with sweat but there was no mistaking the juices now all over my mouth and chin.

My tongue was working overtime and I was getting a very positive response from up top. Now those noises she had been making while working on the machines was back again but this time in a more familiar context. She was giving me a running commentary in Spanish as well, with no-one else to hear or understand. I had little idea of what the words were but knew instinctively what she was trying to say. I went in deeper and harder, using the fingers of one hand to help my tongue explore her saturated pussy.

I heard the dumbbells clunk on the floor and a moment later she had her fingers in my hair, clawing at my head as she reached a shuddering orgasm. Her legs clasped me round my head and crushed me into her as her whole body shook. Wow! That thigh machine had obviously done her a world of good — man, she was strong!

My whole mouth was covered in sweat and juices from her as I came up for air.

She sat up on the bench, her face an extraordinary contortion of lust and pleasure. That was a grin I will never forget!

She gestured for me to stand up with a flick of her hand. I obeyed wordlessly. She sat up and shuffled forward quickly on the bench, wrenching at my own shorts — almost too quickly because my flailing cock nearly got stuck in the waistband. But a timely maneuver from her and it sprang free. She gave a small cry of satisfaction and yanked my shorts further down to my knees.

Before I could even think to get them further down my legs, she craned forward and enveloped my throbbing cock in her mouth. She took me all in, with all the hunger and lust I had shown her moments earlier. I felt her tongue work around my shaft like an eel. Clearly it wasn’t just her limbs that she exercised.

She clasped hold of my thigh with one hand and with the other massaged my balls and stroked my cock as she mouth-fucked me. What a feeling! I took a moment to look over her head and check us out in the wall mirror over behind her. Quite a sight! Her head bobbing up and down, her back shining in the bright light, her spine rippling as she moved in and out, her bare backside plump and full on the bench.

I didn’t want to finish here. I needed to be inside her. I think she understood when I pushed her back off me before things went too far. She had a question in her eyebrows. I looked round the room and selected the nearest piece of equipment.

First I struggled out of my shorts which were halfway down my calves. I kicked them off without even looking where they went. Then I straightened up and stood before her, naked apart from my trainers; she still had on her sports bra which was completely sodden with sweat and clearly showing the points of her hardened nipples. She gave me an encouraging whistle as my cock waved free at her. I grabbed her hands and drew her arms around my neck, guided her legs around my waist and carefully lifted her right up off the bench and down on to the nearby triceps machine stool. The handles were far enough out of our way not to bash us. I sat down with her crushed against me in my lap.

She clamped her mouth on mine and gave me the roughest tongue exploration I can remember. If she had been trying to suck out my soul it wouldn’t have been any less aggressive. But it was a real turn on too. I gave back as good as I got and when she eventually peeled off me we looked each other properly in the eye for the first time, a recognition of mutual passion.

I needed to see those breasts. So I bent her arms straight up in the air — she obliged willingly — and I ripped the sports bra off over her head, flinging it goodness knows where.

What a reward! Her breasts bounced free — they were just amazing, really plump but firm, the areoles dark against her already dark skin, the nipples erect and screaming for attention. Happy to help. I sucked on first one then the other, giving her a playful bite.

Just then I had a brainwave. I looked over at the weights on the machine and very quickly slid the pin into the stack at about a weight that I thought she could manage at a push — I was guessing here. She looked at me, a mischievous and enquiring grin on her face. I glanced up at the handles above her ears.

She smiled and followed my lead. She reached right up and grabbed at both handles, pulling herself up a little off my lap as she did so. This also had the added bonus of thrusting her breasts straight in my face.

As she took the weight in her arms, she lowered gently down; well, it was at this point that I reached down, grabbed my cock and guided it straight up inside her.

She lowered herself gingerly down onto me with the assistance of the weights. She was so moist you could hear the squelch from the next room. She impaled herself to the very hilt.

Well, now we started a new rhythm. I’m not sure the manufacturer had this in mind when he or she designed this piece of equipment but it was pretty much perfect for a reverse thrust entry. She pulled down on the handles, lifting herself up as she did so and when she let herself go, she slapped back down into my lap. She was getting to exercise her vaginal muscles and her arms at the same time.

Because of the weights, we couldn’t get much of a speed going but the slow pace was incredibly erotic. I sat there, my hands clamped on her truly amazing breasts while she exercised on me. I could see her eyes going a little fazed as she reached some far-off place all her own. I counted out the reps in my head — she was heading for a record here.