Steam Heat

I slammed the door to the locker closed. My week as a health care consultant had been filled with one crisis and frustration after another. Finally this afternoon I had convinced a CEO that his hospital needed my company’s services. The signed contract I faxed to the home office barely an hour ago. Now I was here at my health club to work off some of the stresses.

This is no ordinary health club. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even know it was here in my city if it hadn’t been for a former boyfriend. The building itself started out as a residence situated on nearly ten acres with its’ own lake. Charles had secured me an invitation to the private facility. He brought me here on a visit, where I got one of the biggest surprises in my life. This health club not only allowed nudity but encouraged it among its members.

And not just nudity I had found out in the months since Charles had moved back to his Philadelphia home base. Several times I had heard cries of obvious sexual release from the pool, the showers and once even the weight room.

Tossing a towel over my shoulder, I left the locker room and headed to the main room where the treadmills, stationary bikes and other equipment were located. Because I have been blessed with a firm full set of D cup breasts, I always wear at least a sports bra during my workouts. This evening I had added a brief little thong along with my cross trainer shoes.

Since it was after eight in the evening on a Friday, I didn’t expect to see very many other members using the equipment. The room was empty of other users as I entered, with only the CNN commentator’s voice for company. I headed over to my favorite of the treadmills and touched the keypad to start the mat moving.

I listened as the day’s news droned on against the whir of the treadmill as I strided through the first mile of my five-mile walk. Listening intently to an update on the situation in the Mideast, I missed the arrival of another member. It wasn’t until I heard the rhythmic click of the weights on the Nautilus machine that I even realized his presence.

And what a presence it was. He was sitting using the machine that some of my girl friends call “the butterfly” for the motion of the users upper arms to the middle, right in front of the face. It’s meant to work the pectoral and the bicep groups.

This guy had obviously spent loads of time with the butterfly; he had a chest that the guys I work with would kill to have. He was working shirtless, giving me an unfettered view of those hard bulging chest and shoulder muscles.

Shamelessly, I turned my attention from the world situation to watch a more up close and personal show. As he worked rep after slow rep, my mind began to wander. How would it feel to run my hands over that chest? The light sprinkling of sandy hair crisp under my fingers. Would those twin brown circles tighten to my touch?

He moved to the station that had his feet pushing against the weight resistance. The sapphire blue shorts he wore were cut extremely high so that not only could I see the entire hard length of his legs, but the lower curve of his tight buns under the fabric.

In my mind, I could imagine a slow, sultry saunter over to him. My fingers trailed over his chest, down the line of hair to his now tented shorts.

His smile gave me unspoken permission to continue. Tugging at the elastic waist, I gently freed his cock from the silky fabric confines. Even half hard it was thicker than any I had known before. My hands caressed and stroked as his shaft grew before my eyes.

As I begin to feel the slick warmth of his precum, I could resist no longer. Bending down, my tongue touched the tip. Slowly it circled, savoring the salty slickness. Finally, I inhaled deeply then engulfed him, taking his length nearly half way to his balls with the first plunge.

I watched as he gripped the seat, my head rising up then back down. The swollen tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. Each time I took him was deeper than the stroke before until I had him swallowed whole.

Sucking harder, I drove him closer and closer to climax. His fingers wound through my hair, as he pulled me hard against him. My lips could feel his pulse as it pounded through his cock. Finally, his hips arched to me one last time. Jet after hot creamy jet of cum filled my mouth, swallowing it all. I licked my lips to get the last drops . . .

The treadmill’s computer program beeped cheerily to let me know that I was half way to my five-mile goal, jolting me from my erotic reverie. Looking up, my eyes met his as I realized my tongue ran across my lips. His flirtatious wink assured me that he enjoyed watching me watch him.

And I kept on watching him, even after I had reached my five-mile finish. He made the entire circuit of the Nautilus program. Abs, quads and oh my God those gluts. I was so glad that I had really worked up a healthy sweat otherwise the growing wetness under my thong would have been undeniable.

I always ended my workouts with a session in the sauna, a habit I had picked up while living in Germany. I toyed briefly with the idea of a quick shower then rushing home to my battery-operated boyfriend, but decided my skin needed the steam more than I needed immediate relief. Stripping and dashing under the shower for a quick rinse, I then padded off, naked and dripping, to the sauna.

Tugging open the redwood door, a cloud of steam rolled over me as I slid into the moist heat. As the temperature settled back down, I saw that I was not alone. It was him, the object of my exercise room lust. Wicked thoughts flooded into my mind. Smiling to myself, I would show off for him even more erotically than he had for me.

I spread my towel out on a bench that ran perpendicular to the one he sat on. Swinging one leg over the wooden bench, I sat down astride it to face him. My feet remaining on the redwood floor, I slowly eased back until I lay flat on the bench, apparently oblivious to his presence.

“Ummmmmmmmmm,” came his appreciative masculine response to the sight of my baby’s butt smooth pussy lips.

Encouraged by his approval, I spread my thighs even wider letting my labia open just a bit. The thrill of showing off my body to this stranger drove me to be even bolder. My nipples were already puckered and rigid as one of my hands began to brush across the dusky peaks.

As my fingers toyed and teased, I heard the creak of his bench followed by the loud hiissssssss of the water on the hot rocks. The dipper sloshed in the bucket as he returned it.

But I didn’t hear him return to his spectator’s seat. I had just about worked up the courage to see what he was doing when I felt warm water trickling down onto my breasts. He trailed water down my chest, over my belly to the tuft of pubic hair I leave on my mound.

I felt him ease down onto the bench, his knees brushing mine. Inhaling sharply in anticipation, I wondered what this sensual Adonis had in mind. He didn’t make me wait long. He must’ve been leaning totally over me, because he started trailing his thumbs along my jaw line down onto my neck.

His fingertips continued over my aching breasts. Sensing my need, he paused to first caress then gently knead the firm globes.

Unable to restrain myself any longer, I let him know how much I was enjoying his touch with a low, throaty moan.

His only reply was a satisfied chuckle. His response, to slide his hands farther down, over my ribs to my flat belly, temporarily coming to rest gripping the round flare of my hips.

Once again, he surprised me by changing tactics. His breath warm on my skin as the touch of his moustache was just enough to make me giggle. He started at my navel, dipping his tongue inside then trailed wetly farther south.

My body arched to his mouth. I knew he was heading to the hot, wetness below. At the first touch of his probing tongue, slipping in to search for my clit, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out at the intense pleasure.

His hands moved just enough to let him use his thumbs to hold the lips open as he continued to plunder my pussy. He sucked and nipped at my clit until it was throbbing and swollen.

I ached to feel his tongue plunging deeper. As if reading my thoughts, he dived lower. In and out, over and over his tongue mimicked the moves of a cock driving into me. My hips began to move to the sensual rhythm he set, as my hands reached above my head, gripping the edges of the bench.

As I writhed beneath him, the sensations drove me closer and closer to release. “Oh, My, God.” I cried out. “I’m gonna cum.” Even as I spoke, I felt the first quiverings deep inside. As the quivers turned into full-blown spasms, I could feel floods of juices run from my pussy into his greedy mouth.

My body rode the waves of an orgasm more intense than I had ever felt. Slowly, I came back to normal, or as normal as possible after a climax that registered on the Richter scale.

As I opened my eyes, I looked up into my anonymous lover’s satisfied smile. When I tried to ask his name, he placed his finger to my lips. He stopped my question with a kiss, sharing my own taste with me.

Just as quietly as I had slipped in, he left the steamy room. When I could finally manage, I headed to the showers. I returned to the locker room, and popped open the slotted gray metal door. There, I found a folded piece of paper. When I opened the fold, I read the words that made my stomach jump. “Next Friday, same time, the pool.”