You told me to meet you at the gym and even though I thought it was a weird request, I brought a bag full of towels and spare clothes. I wasn't really sure what to bring. I felt like an idiot when everyone could tell I had no clue what to do at a gym. I could feel the stares and not seeing you anywhere was making me think this wasn't a great idea. I waited at the counter for awhile, adjusting my shorts (they kept riding up my ass) and wishing I had worn something more comfortable. I was about to walk out when the guy at the counter motioned me over. You must have told him I was on my way because he just pointed you out. I was so nervous I hadn't seen you doing some bench presses in the back by the mirrors.
I walked over thinking I'd surprise you but I caught the reflection of your gaze watching me in the mirror. I wondered how long you had been watching me stand there, fidgeting. I couldn't believe I was at a gym. I worked so hard for these curves and yet here I was, at a gym watching you watch me. You hadn't stopped your weight-training. I approached slowly, praised myself for remembering a few words to impress you and asked "Do you need a spotter?"
You smirked. Spotter might have been the word I meant. I motioned at the weights and was instantly distracted by your even breathing. The rhythm of your arms lifting the barbell over your head, the smooth motion of lowering it for just a moment--I don't know how long I was staring at your body. I wet my lips and was about to try again at conversation when you rose up and walked away. It took me a moment to comprehend that you were replacing your weights. You earned a quick smile, but I still didn't know why I was there.
I glanced at the mirror-lined wall and my fingers twisted nervously at the hem of my shorts. The room wasn't full, but I was overwhelmed by how many people were here. I watched everyone furtively with the mirrors, and occasionally saw them looking at me. By the time my eyes roamed over the room, you returned, standing behind me. I watched you in the reflection and wasn't surprised when your hands slid up my thighs, pausing to give each breast a firm squeeze before turning my head to the side. I felt your cock pressing into me. I flashed a small appreciative smile, swaying my hips back into you.
You jerked my shorts down so fast, I barely had time to register it. One good hard shove to my back and I was up against the mirrors, shorts around my ankles. My tank top got shoved up and I recoiled at the cold glass on my skin. I fearfully looked about but no one noticed. My breath fogged up the mirror and I waited. A strong knee to kick apart my legs and I heard the first sound out of you as a growl of impatience aimed at the shorts still wrapped around my ankles, preventing me from widening my stance further. You ripped the offending garment so hard I was grateful I brought extra shorts. "Wait... here?!"
The sound of ripping clothes stirred a few heads. I turned my head to look, but your hand caught me by the jaw and faced me forward. Your eyes told me you didn't want my eyes anywhere else but on you. I struggled to keep my eyes on you. Each time I glanced away was rewarded with the loudest smack on my ass. I learned quickly. I pressed my hands resolutely to the mirror and tried to get the roomful of people out of my head. I heard their mutterings and it was torture to keep standing. To just wait. And watch. I sighed at my reflection. "Here then."
Your eyes never left mine but continued to grope my body, hands warming my skin before abruptly slipping elsewhere. They reached up to hold my breasts again but not for long. The frustration was maddening.
It got harder to maintain eye contact. I was almost at the point of wanting to close my eyes and drop my head back, but I remembered your fast hands. My ass stung still from every slap.
At the first surge of penetration, I rocked up on the balls of my feet as the thrust pushed me against the wall. My hands, sweaty and anxious, slipped down the mirrors. Your arm cradled around my midsection and I understood I was pinned on view for everyone. I tried to see what was happening out of the corner of my eyes but it got harder to focus on anything but standing upright. Punishing and with growing panic, I was glued on us in the mirror.
I lost my concentration and closed my eyes. Fingertips slid between my lips as your hand tilted my chin down. "Watch."
You sped up. The same smooth motion I saw from earlier had me arching, trying to curl around your body and the wall at the same time. Standing wasn't important anymore. I was shocked I had been up on my toes, braced upright with each brutal pounding.
I couldn't recall the last time I heard someone lifting weights. Other than the sounds of skin slapping skin, I heard nothing else. Sweat beaded on my body and created a slick friction, and it became more difficult to keep watching you--the mirror fogging up far too much.
Over and over you had me bowing into you, spearing me into flailing poses. I was a rag doll. I was a sex toy. I grunted with the effort from not crying out, yet hoping we were still unobserved. Not believing it, but hoping. At least no one had stopped us.
My hands clambered up the walls and slid back down, finding no purchase. Each jarring thrust sent me back up and you seemed long from finished.
Another surprise, I was wrong. You hovered on the verge, gripping my shoulders for one last pose as you forced me to arch even more, tits raking the now hot glass. I bent more and more, fearing I would break. "Please!" I begged. You halted momentarily, but I waved you on hurriedly. "No... please give it to me. Please please please!"
Over feral growls, skin-slapping, my gasps and pleas, I heard someone call out some encouragement. It brought me back to the moment. Everyone was watching. I froze but it didn't matter. I was still at your mercy. My pussy was bludgeoned, bruised, and spread wide and it felt good to be on display. Dangling and striving to accommodate the vigorous pounding, it was a relief when your come ran down my legs. I shuddered and flinched as you shifted and slowly pulled out. I crumpled in a messy heap of exhausted limbs.
"How's that for a work out?"
I walked over thinking I'd surprise you but I caught the reflection of your gaze watching me in the mirror. I wondered how long you had been watching me stand there, fidgeting. I couldn't believe I was at a gym. I worked so hard for these curves and yet here I was, at a gym watching you watch me. You hadn't stopped your weight-training. I approached slowly, praised myself for remembering a few words to impress you and asked "Do you need a spotter?"
You smirked. Spotter might have been the word I meant. I motioned at the weights and was instantly distracted by your even breathing. The rhythm of your arms lifting the barbell over your head, the smooth motion of lowering it for just a moment--I don't know how long I was staring at your body. I wet my lips and was about to try again at conversation when you rose up and walked away. It took me a moment to comprehend that you were replacing your weights. You earned a quick smile, but I still didn't know why I was there.
I glanced at the mirror-lined wall and my fingers twisted nervously at the hem of my shorts. The room wasn't full, but I was overwhelmed by how many people were here. I watched everyone furtively with the mirrors, and occasionally saw them looking at me. By the time my eyes roamed over the room, you returned, standing behind me. I watched you in the reflection and wasn't surprised when your hands slid up my thighs, pausing to give each breast a firm squeeze before turning my head to the side. I felt your cock pressing into me. I flashed a small appreciative smile, swaying my hips back into you.
You jerked my shorts down so fast, I barely had time to register it. One good hard shove to my back and I was up against the mirrors, shorts around my ankles. My tank top got shoved up and I recoiled at the cold glass on my skin. I fearfully looked about but no one noticed. My breath fogged up the mirror and I waited. A strong knee to kick apart my legs and I heard the first sound out of you as a growl of impatience aimed at the shorts still wrapped around my ankles, preventing me from widening my stance further. You ripped the offending garment so hard I was grateful I brought extra shorts. "Wait... here?!"
The sound of ripping clothes stirred a few heads. I turned my head to look, but your hand caught me by the jaw and faced me forward. Your eyes told me you didn't want my eyes anywhere else but on you. I struggled to keep my eyes on you. Each time I glanced away was rewarded with the loudest smack on my ass. I learned quickly. I pressed my hands resolutely to the mirror and tried to get the roomful of people out of my head. I heard their mutterings and it was torture to keep standing. To just wait. And watch. I sighed at my reflection. "Here then."
Your eyes never left mine but continued to grope my body, hands warming my skin before abruptly slipping elsewhere. They reached up to hold my breasts again but not for long. The frustration was maddening.
It got harder to maintain eye contact. I was almost at the point of wanting to close my eyes and drop my head back, but I remembered your fast hands. My ass stung still from every slap.
At the first surge of penetration, I rocked up on the balls of my feet as the thrust pushed me against the wall. My hands, sweaty and anxious, slipped down the mirrors. Your arm cradled around my midsection and I understood I was pinned on view for everyone. I tried to see what was happening out of the corner of my eyes but it got harder to focus on anything but standing upright. Punishing and with growing panic, I was glued on us in the mirror.
I lost my concentration and closed my eyes. Fingertips slid between my lips as your hand tilted my chin down. "Watch."
You sped up. The same smooth motion I saw from earlier had me arching, trying to curl around your body and the wall at the same time. Standing wasn't important anymore. I was shocked I had been up on my toes, braced upright with each brutal pounding.
I couldn't recall the last time I heard someone lifting weights. Other than the sounds of skin slapping skin, I heard nothing else. Sweat beaded on my body and created a slick friction, and it became more difficult to keep watching you--the mirror fogging up far too much.
Over and over you had me bowing into you, spearing me into flailing poses. I was a rag doll. I was a sex toy. I grunted with the effort from not crying out, yet hoping we were still unobserved. Not believing it, but hoping. At least no one had stopped us.
My hands clambered up the walls and slid back down, finding no purchase. Each jarring thrust sent me back up and you seemed long from finished.
Another surprise, I was wrong. You hovered on the verge, gripping my shoulders for one last pose as you forced me to arch even more, tits raking the now hot glass. I bent more and more, fearing I would break. "Please!" I begged. You halted momentarily, but I waved you on hurriedly. "No... please give it to me. Please please please!"
Over feral growls, skin-slapping, my gasps and pleas, I heard someone call out some encouragement. It brought me back to the moment. Everyone was watching. I froze but it didn't matter. I was still at your mercy. My pussy was bludgeoned, bruised, and spread wide and it felt good to be on display. Dangling and striving to accommodate the vigorous pounding, it was a relief when your come ran down my legs. I shuddered and flinched as you shifted and slowly pulled out. I crumpled in a messy heap of exhausted limbs.
"How's that for a work out?"