by Muse ©
found myself staring. It wasn't often that I stared at people, but while
you engage in the mindless pursuits at the gym, your mind is a fertile field.
All that activity and you cannot concentrate on anything except the activity,
and in my case, the person in front of me. I had seen her frequently engaging
in all the usual activities, aerobics and cardio exercise. I remember the
first time I watched her. I was walking on a treadmill by the entrance into
the aerobics area. The class was just getting ready to start and she walked
to about half way up the floor length. Her stride was sexy. She moved with
a natural grace that immediately caught the eye. She was tall, a good five
feet ten inches. As she pulled her sweatshirt over her head, my eyes took
in her beautiful athletic form. She was wearing black shorts that stopped
just short of the curve of her buttocks. Her legs were long and tan. Her
waist was whittled to nothing and her chest was covered by a basic black
athletic tank top. Although she was muscular, her shape was quite feminine
and I stumbled a step as I continued to watch her. It wasn't like I make
a habit of watching women in the gym. You could understand that women are
quite censorious of other women watching them.
In the women's dressing room you could see women exhibit extreme modesty or a complete lack thereof. As the class started, I watched her move with ease to the music. She knew the steps and her magnificent physique worked its way to a sweat. I watched as the perspiration drenched a vee from her waistband to a point between the globes of her ass. As she swayed and turned I was able to catch glimpses of a pair of firm, ample breasts confined in the tank top. Her exertions emphasized the swell of her breasts and they bounced enchantingly with her movement. Her face showed her maturity as well as her vulnerability. She was about 30 years old and I smiled to see her facial expression intense in her concentration. She had the most beautiful shaped eyes which in my guessing game, I imagined as blue. Her face was heart shaped with high cheekbones. Her lips were full and rosy. She had been licking them and they were half parted to accommodate her breathing. In her intensity, I could see complete and utter concentration. Her top carried the same vee line where the sweat was captured between her breasts. Surprisingly, her nipples appeared to be erect from the friction of her top against those little peaks. Her blonde hair was caught back in a ponytail, but as she worked her body, wisps of hair escaped the band and curled around her face, framing it.
Before I knew it, my time on the treadmill was complete. As the mechanism rolled to a stop I glanced into the mirror and looked at myself. Although envy wasn't my forte, I subliminally tallied my charms to that of my sweet blonde. A short, chunky, albeit voluptuous brunette was staring back at me. Five four was definitely not on the tall side. I tried to forgive the image in the mirror. Never in a million years would I ever by confused with the athletic bodies that abounded at the gym. Although I exercised with a passion, I would always possess large full breasts with broad hips. A detractor would comment "hardy peasant stock". A Rubenesque form would be a "kind" description. Someone with a good twenty pounds to lose would be another. Yet as I looked into my eyes, I was humor and good naturedness. Laugh lines had begun to kiss my eyes and lower jaw. I definitely was staring 40 in the face. Yet the most surprising thing I saw written on my face was lust. My face was red from the exertion of the cardiovascular workout, but along with the sweat that beaded on my brow and face, I knew that there was the flush of passion. There was a throbbing between my legs that wasn't just a response to the exercise. I know how my body responds to arousal and a glimpse of my breasts with their erect nipples reinforced my appraisal. Just watching her had made me horny, and I didn't even like women. Or so I had always told myself. As I read the statistics on my performance, my gut told me that I had some thinking to do about my sexuality. I grimaced as I slipped on my gloves and made my way to the weights.
As I stepped over to the weight machines, I pondered the differences between men and women, you know, sexually. I know that I had a real fascination with men. Their taste, their feel and most of all their hardness had always appealed to me. I could face the fact that I had more questionable experiences with men than I cared to admit. I mean, currently I was nursing a broken heart, or at least it felt that way. Of course he had dumped me for someone younger, cuter and of course thinner. Yet why in the world would I find my fantasy blonde as an object of my lust? As I pulled the press bar down into my chest, I thought of nothing but what it would be like to kiss her lips. Her kisses would be softer and sweeter than a man's. Her skin smoother and more supple. As I worked my back and shoulders, I continued to covet a touch. After 40 minutes of self inflicted torture, I stepped to the dressing room. I slipped out of my workout clothes and wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the sauna. What a pleasant surprise, the object of my attention was sitting in the sauna in her workout clothes, talking with a couple other girls. I sat at the door so I could watch them and hear the conversation. The first look was such a rush. She had sweat dripping from her face onto her clothes. The perspiration had drenched the spandex and although it was black, it clung to her like she was naked. It revealed the distinct outline of her nipples and their placement on her breasts. As she leaned over, resting her weight slightly on her elbows that were placed on her knees, I could see the shadowed valley between her breasts, their fullness pressing up against the sports top. I closed my eyes and imagined running the tip of my finger over the tops of her breasts.
As I leaned my head back, I listened to the conversation. In the short time they talked, I learned that her name was Carrie. What a sweet name! She, in that short span of time, told me so much about herself. She had a passion for movies, animals and exercising. As the conversation turned to movies, I was able to work my way into the conversation. I slid closer to the group; I introduced myself and joined in the bantering. Carrie was witty and quick. I asked her what she did for a living. In directing my comment directly to her, I was able to look into her eyes. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that her eyes were the deepest mossy green. I momentarily forgot to ask her about her job because I lost myself into their depths. As we talked, we laughed and found that we had several things in common. First and foremost, our dedication to the gym. Mentally I checked that I needed to become even more dedicated to exercising, especially if I was going to have the good fortune to enjoy Carrie's company, or at least the view. That's when I heard Carrie's voice say, "Beth, your towel slipped."
Sure enough, I looked down and my breasts were exposed to the nipples. I'm certain that it happened when I moved over to join the conversation. As I looked down, my skin flushed with the heat from the sauna, covered with a watery sheen from my perspiration, I was struck by the erotic in the view. Imagine, being awed by a set of tits, especially my own. I quickly gathered the towel back into place. Luckily for me, the girls in the sauna were nonchalant about the flash. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't appear too uninhibited, I felt a large bead of sweat at the nape of my neck. Before I could run my hand and wipe it free, it started drifting downward. It was if a slow hand was running a finger down the length of my spine. I closed my eyes and as Carrie's laughter echoed in my ear, I imagined that it was her finger slowly caressing me. As soon as the drop worked its way into the crack of my ass, I excused myself from the sauna. I was still aroused by Carrie's presence and the additional stimulation had worked me to a point of no return.
Stopping by my locker I picked up a tube of shower cream and a bottle of shampoo. I made way to the shower and cut the water on. I made sure that it wasn't too hot, in fact somewhat tepid to cool me down. As I allowed the water to rain on me, drenching my hair in its cool and refreshing embrace. I sighed deeply and reached for the shower cream. As I squeezed a healthy portion into my hands, I closed my eyes and allowed the vanilla scent to envelop me. As I worked up a lather, I started at my shoulders and worked my hands downwards. I fondled my body instead of cleaning it. I imagined that it was Carrie's breasts that I handled. As my fingers encircled the nipples, lightly tugging at them, I felt them tighten even further. I looked down and saw just how distended they were. As the heaviness in my groin became even more painful, my hand slowly eased its way past my curls to slowly run my thumb in between my lips. They were swollen, and I gave them a light pinch together before running my forefinger back in to open me up. As I leaned against the shower wall, my fingers rubbed my clit. As swollen as it was, it didn't take three minutes of intense masturbation to get me off. It was all I could do to swallow the groans so that I didn't notify the occupants of the other showers just what was going on in mine. When I ceased shaking and could stand upright supporting my weight, I quickly lathered up my hair and finished my shower so that I could get home. As I finished my toilette, I mused that the experience would be the closest I would get to a lesbian encounter. I was wrong.
Over the next couple of weeks, it just seemed that Carrie's workout schedule intersected mine frequently. I did not often plan to be there, and there she would be. Jesse, one of the staff members at the gym, after two weeks took great delight in pointing it out to me. As I looked into his blue eyes, I was amazed just how handsome he was. It seemed that all of the staff members at the gym had primo bodies, but Jesse had lean strong lines. As a dark brunette, his coloring make his eyes almost leap out of his face. I knew that he had a thing for Carrie, he never missed an opportunity to cut up with her. As Carrie and I had started talking when we worked out, she had introduced us. I admired him, as was his due. I took ample opportunity to kid with Carrie about him. All the guys at the gym had a tendency to flirt, but Jesse was intense in his pursuit of Carrie. I watched them together. He always took an opportunity to touch her while pointing out the errors in her workout. They were a well-matched pair, he dark and she blonde, both with spectacular length that made them roughly the same height. My imagination while working out took a different turn. It seemed that if I didn't fantasize about Carrie and I in a torrid lesbian embrace that I was mentally conjuring pictures of Carrie on her knees before Jesse while I watched. I had almost reached the point that I was going to go mad. Not only was my life celibate, not of my own choosing, but I couldn't finger myself off enough to satisfy me. Masturbation is a lonely sport. My empty sexual side took me places I don't think I would have ever gone to voluntarily. And the sexual side I allowed to explore those places and enjoy them. I often laughed at myself, because I felt like a freak in my wanton desires. An idle mind is definitely the devil's workshop.
One evening after work, I shrugged a shirt over my dripping workout clothes. I did not see Carrie and although my workout was exhausting, I found myself somehow exhilarated and invigorated. I jumped into my car and decided that I would stop for a late bite of dinner at the restaurant where Carrie worked. Sure enough, Carrie was behind the bar, pouring drinks and talking to the patrons. I slipped onto a barstool and she smiled as she slid a napkin in front of me. I smiled back and ordered a tequila sunrise. Carrie was efficient in her preparation of my drink. As she placed the glass in front of me, I looked at her and asked, "Would you like the honors?" She laughed and said, "Sure!" She slowly stirred the drink and the red blossomed into the yellow, becoming a warm orange. I took a sip and pronounced the drink excellent. Carrie made a couple of suggestions for dinner. As I chose the most fattening thing on the menu, loaded nachos, she shook her head and laughed. "If you want to work off those last twenty pounds, my friend, that is not the way to do it." In my self-deprecating way I responded with, "Carrie, babe, I know, but at this point in time, I don't care. I don't think another man is ever going to hit on me again. I expect to have carpel tunnel in both wrists before I get the opportunity to it with another willing human being again." She laughed, but not before she gave me a most quizzical glance. Throughout the evening, we bantered and made smart remarks to each other. You could say that we provided free entertainment for all the patrons in the bar that evening. By the time I got ready to leave, she and I had arranged to meet about 8:00 pm the next evening. We were going to do free weights. She had offered to teach and spot me in my attempts to do some additional weight training. I left, somehow satisfied that I could depend on Carrie's sense of humor as well as her kind ear.
The next night I was at the gym, at the prescribed time. Jesse was sitting at the front desk. As I walked through the door, he flashed me one of his magical, spectacular grins. I grinned back and held up my membership card. He caught my eyes, laughed, and said, "Like I don't know that you are an 'active' member." I smiled my response. His blue eyes twinkled as he advised me that Carrie was already in the free weight room. It was a Friday night, and the gym attendance was lighter than usual. As the fans above circulated the air, I strolled back to the dressing room to relieve myself of my gym bag. I grabbed my gloves and glanced at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a fitted sports top, not cropped but full to the waist. I had coupled the top with a black pair of fitted shorts with a pair of lightweight shorts on top. Dressed in solid black with my jet-black hair, my skin took on a luminescence because I did not tan as a matter of principle. Yet, instead of washing out the features of my face, my eyes appeared to be so large. The pale skin enhanced their color and my exertions in getting ready had colored my cheeks so that my face appeared quite alive and animated. I exited the dressing room and walked to the free weight area.
Carrie was the only woman in the room. She was wearing a blue workout outfit that complimented her blondness. She stood out in a room full of weight lifting jocks. I could see her face as she worked with dumbbells, practicing her bicep curls. Her face was a study in deliberateness. As I glanced around, I noticed that several of the big and brawny were secretively studying her as she stood before the mirror. From the back, with her knees slightly bent in the prescribed form, her butt was tucked neatly and her back completely flat. And, oh that butt, was so beautifully sculpted in its firmness. I stepped over to the rack and leaned back against it to enjoy the view as she finished her set. She gave me a big grin via the reflection in the mirror, but her steadfastness to the completion of her set prevented her from initiating a conversation. Upon finishing, she turned to face me. "Ready to go to work?" she asked. "Sure," I responded. "Where do we begin?"
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