The Serenity of The Gym

I kept him talking with little nods and sounds of admiration. It was really easy. It was like he had spend hours while swimming in the pool imagining all the cool things he could say about swimming. The more time I let him stare at me, the hornier he got. His eyes would linger on my lips like he was taking in their seductive shape, color, and imagine their sensitivity to his love bites. My boob, he was constantly trying to look away from, but any time, I let my gaze drop to somewhere else in the room, his eyes fastened on them like a feast thinking I would notice. And he voice grew softer and softer as his blood and all of his brain seemed to be oozing into his penis. I was sure that he had a raging boner that he thought he was glad to hide under the rippled, reflecting water surface.

"Using a kickboard is such a great idea to practice keeping the arms in front. I've always wondered where they keep them. Could you show me?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, they are in the box through that door!" he said quickly and a bit panicked.

"Could you take me there? I'm so spatially challenged," and I moved closer to emphasise my plead and also to give him that unsteady feeling when someone steps from social to intimate distance. He quickly pulled his hips a bit bag, afraid that his boner might touch me. Sure enough, the intimate space gave him a doozy. He wanted to please me even more but was also more acutely aware of his erection poking inside of speedos.

"I don't know why it's such a big deal. Simply take me the few steps," I ratcheted up the pressure in response to his silence.

"What's wrong?" I pressured him fully knowing that all he was thinking about was his boner and what to do with it.

He seemed to realize that he was starting to make a scene, even though I was the one making the scene. He quickly pushed himself out of the pool with his arms. He was eager to get ahead of me and angle himself away from the lifeguard. He figured that if everyone was behind him, he could strut through the halls with his boner in the open. He quickly stepped through the door. I followed him hard on his heels. How a simple stroll to everyone else can be such a hunt to the insiders!

I found him squatting in front of the box with the top open. That was very clever to hide his erection between his thighs that way. I give him that. He rummaged in the box for a black kickboard and handed it to me. I took it. He tried to get up and spin around to get out of the door before me. For a split moment, I could see his boner. The black speedos clung so tightly to it that I could make out the shaft, head, even the pee line running the length. But I was quick. I tried I swiveled to get ahead of him. In our darting to make it to the door first, I won, but he almost ran into my back, almost poked me into my butt with that boner.

So now, he was walking behind me. I could see from the corners of his eyes, that he cupped his penis with both hands because it was so obscenely visible. I slowed down my walk. I increased the wiggle in my butt with the swim bottom in between my butt cheeks. I reached back to adjust it. I was sure that he was watching my fingers and butt. Then I stopped and spun around, "So you didn't tell me which recovery style is your favorite." Oh, it was so delicious! I could see his face squeam. All he wanted to be was back in the water where he could hide. He was also afraid to make a scene. He knew that cupping his penis was very obvious, but he didn't know what else to do.

It's amazing how you can toy with the politeness of a geek. As he is over six foot, and I'm pretty short, he is quite towering over me. I stood a little close to him. I tried to gave him that gaze up like the one that a guy gets from a woman giving a blow job on her knees. My eyes were real wide. I looked very submissive. And I knew that I was hitting the right notes because he voice started getting a panting quality as he struggled through explaining to me how much he enjoys the glide. "Yeah, gliding the leading hand into the water and forward while propelling with the left hand feels really good..." he said and I interrupted him with a slow voice that gave him plenty of time to look at my lips, "you like to glide right in." And I wasn't even coy, I said it right the way how it implied that he'd really like gliding his cock into my pussy.

"Um," he stuttered, "I didn't mean it like that. It's just when the hand breaks the surface, and suddenly feels all the water streaming past, the wetness on the skin is a nice sensation."

"You love feeling the wetness. You are so insightful!" I left that so ambiguous that I let him wonder if I was agreeing with him in a poorly worded way or if I was teasing him. I also sent his mind thinking to the wetness between my legs, which I loved to observe as the confusion and embarrassment spread over his face.

"I should be getting back to my workout. I have to leave for a dinner and have a lot of catching up to do on drills," he said feeling a little victorious for having found a verbal way to get past me.

I didn't let him off without getting a bit of an inner laugh in, "You are going to have to work out hard." That was cued up too perfectly and the look of anguish on his face too priceless.

That was a high point that was hard to top without breaking the rules. And I learned another thing about the game. The game has to constantly move forward. The game is only kept alive because the delay on the way to the destination is enjoyable, but once the destination is reached or progress stop, the game fizzles out. So on one hand, the rules of the game can't change but the game also moves to a point of conclusion or fizzling out. I was probably pondering that conundrum a little too long as I sat on the bench in the locker room with my towels around me.

The red haired woman with the little curls walked up to me. She put a white towel down the length of the bench with blond wood. She motioned me to lie down. Somewhat confused and curious, I lay on my back. She had unscrewed the entire bottle of creme de corps from the dispenser. She spread some over her hands. Then, she glid her hands up my legs to distributed it and massage it in. She was serving me! She was worshipping me! She sedulously got ever little square of my toes between my toes. Without hesitation, she covered my breasts. She got my armpits. No little bit of my skin escaped her care, but she didn't touch my pussy or asshole. She went right up to the very edge of both. Her fingers were working deep between my butt cheeks, but she never touched my butthole even though, she perfectly circled around it. There was so much surprise in the sensation of my skin. What I enjoyed most was her face that didn't indulge in the purview of my bare body, but kept a focused, worker face. She wasn't indulging in me sexually, but she was indulging in serving me. Servitude made me puzzle about her and drew me to her.

When she finished, she said, "Thank you, Miss," and walked away.

That night, I realized that there are two kinds of games. There are closed games that go towards a goal - the guy wants to get off. Johanna wants to get off. However, there are also open games. An open game is about the joy in the surprise of what the other person does. When the red haired woman with little curls kissed me on the feet, I was surprised and really enjoyed the humility and tenderness that she brought. When all of that sunk in, I knew what I had to do. I drove to a pet store that was open late and bought a dog leash - one with a nice, soft velvet collar. It was a particular color of pink - a pink that reminded me of a certain car.

The next evening, I sat down in the lobby of the gym after my workout. There were large overstuffed armchairs. They looked a lot more like a big basked filled with pillow than the traditional armchair. You can only sit on them by reclining back. I had my gym bag on the floor next to me and the leash on top. I waited, patiently.

After an hour, the red haired woman with little curls walked out towards the reception desk on her way out. I stood up and called across the entire lobby, "Come here" in my dark, commanding voice. She froze, looked at me, and walked over. She stopped silently in front of me waiting for my command. I had the leash up to her face and asked, "Do you know what this is?" I let her look at the collar, the lock, the clip that attached the chain to the collar.

"Yes, Miss," she replied.

I watched her for signs of "no." She didn't move away. She stayed quietly, obediently waiting for me. I clicked the collar open. I let her hear the sound. She stayed. I could see the alertness in her eyes. I could also feel the quiet in her body, the space that she went to when she became obedient to me. I placed the collar around her tender neck. I clicked the closure locked. I pulled the fastener snuck until I could only fit a finger inside. She put her hands under her chin pretending to be a puppy and started panting with excitement like a dog.

"Does a puppy wear shoes?" I asked with a tone of disapproval that should have scared her to her bones.

She shook her head and quickly slipped off her shoes and no-show socks. She put them into her gym bag. Then she walked on all four around me and wiggled her butt in the air. The receptionist didn't let anything show on her face. She was too scared to get a complaint and get fired. I grabbed both of our bags and slung them over my shoulder. She was running ahead of me on all four and coming back to me. Then she looked up to me and this golden happiness came over her face, which she expressed to me by rubbing her side against my legs with gusto and abandon. I petted her head to tell her that she was doing well.

I walked her through the parking lot to drop both gym bags in my car. Then, we walked down the residential, suburban neighborhood street that was lined with mature, large trees that covered the street sidewalk to sidewalk. There were big lawns in front of single family homes. I simply enjoyed watching her butt wiggle as she walked on her hands and feet in front of me. There was something about that particular butt that I really loved watching and that made me happy. I realized that she was also playing an open game - looking forward to how I surprised her with game rule changes. A tear fell out of my eye.