Bubble-Butt Gym Whore

"So, you're getting paid to show off," Dave said. "That's a nice gig."

"It's not like that --"

"It sounds exactly like that," he said, drawing closer, his face intent, but with that same sly smile. "I can tell you like to show off. Your butt, especially. You show your butt off around here all the time."

Dave's words, and the directness with which he said them, flustered me. I didn't know what to say. I'd gotten accustomed in the gym to the guys being nervous around me, rather than me around them. But Dave wasn't nervous at all. I wanted to argue with him. But I couldn't. He was right.

"There's nothing wrong with showing off your butt, especially one like yours. You've got a great butt. It's one of the things that makes coming to this gym worthwhile."

I didn't know what to say, again. I blushed. I wanted to say something, but Dave spoke before I could.

"By the way, your butt's looking really cute in those new shorts you're wearing."

His comment both irked and flattered me. I found myself disarmed by his directness and could only stammer a faint reply.

"Uh, thanks. I guess."

"No problem. Turn around so I can see it better."

I don't know why I didn't tell him to buzz off, or say something similar, but I didn't. Without thinking about what I was doing, and still pleased, against my better judgment, at having heard my butt described as "cute", I turned around until my cute, round, freshly gym-sculpted butt faced him.

"That's a sweet butt. Listen, it's nice to talk, Tiffany, but I've got to take off," Dave said. "See you later." I turned back toward him, but by that time he'd already turned away, and in a few seconds, he was out the door. He left me next to the bench feeling small and exposed and frustrated. He'd seen right through me, and I had nothing to say. He'd told me -- not even asked me! -- to show him my butt, and I'd done so. I shook my head. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.

When Dave left, I had the gym to myself, surprisingly. All the talk about my butt left me feeling horny, and a naughty idea suddenly popped into my head. I spun around on the bench, so I was facing both the barbell and the mirror beyond the bench. I raised my legs and draped my ankles over the barbell, spreading my legs wide. I leaned back but sat up on my elbows, so I could see myself -- and my butt especially -- in the mirror. Then I got really naughty. I raised my butt off the bench and pulled the tiny shorts off my waist to my thighs. Now, looking in the mirror ahead, I saw the slit of my bare pussy and my tiny, puckered asshole, completely exposed. I'd never spent much time looking at my asshole before.

I heard voices getting louder and quickly pulled my shorts back over my bottom. I resumed my workout.

The next few times I ran into Dave at the gym, we chatted. I got to know more about him, and I told him about myself. I mentioned Rodney. He obviously was attentive to my words, so I tried to be careful about what I said. But I always had the feeling with Dave that I told him whatever he wanted to know about me despite my best efforts to be discreet.

"So, this boyfriend," Dave said to me during a conversation one day, "Does he know about your modeling gig? How does he feel about your showing off your body in skimpy outfits in a gym full of horny guys?"

I still couldn't get accustomed to the way he talked to me. My voice kept sounding small and halting after his.

"He doesn't know," I said. "He knows I come to the gym, and that's all."

"He's never come here?"

"Rodney? No. He's not the gym type."

"What type is he? If you don't mind my saying so, he doesn't sound like much of a boyfriend."

"It's not like that," I said. "I mean, we don't always do things together, but he's a good partner. He pays the mortgage and the bills."

"Ah," Dave said. "He's a sugar daddy. Nice."

I was shocked.

"Dave, that's not appropri--"

"Spare me. I can see it. I can tell. I'm right. He's your sugar daddy."

"Dave, that's not nice. I'm not that kind of girl."

"Oh, don't give me that," he said. "You're exactly that kind of girl. There's a name for it, but we don't need to say it."

I wanted to slap him, but he turned and walked away before I could respond. I stewed in the gym after he left, but a little voice sounded inside me to counter my indignation.

It said, "He's right, kind of." The only reason I was still with Rodney was that he was giving me a free place to stay. But a sugar daddy got sex out of it, didn't he? If so, he wasn't much of a sugar daddy, because we weren't having much sex. I wasn't, however, going to say that to Dave.

That night, feeling horny but also wanting to prove Dave wrong, I decided to sex it up at home. I got home well before Rodney did, and I made chicken parmigiana. Rodney loved Italian food, and cooking was the surest way to get a kind word from him. I was a good cook, too, and I liked cooking for other people. I spiced things up by wearing black heels and a little black panty and thong set under my cooking apron.

For a while, it seemed to work. Rodney told me I looked sexy, and he heaped praise on dinner. It didn't take too much coaxing to get him into the bedroom afterward. I did a little striptease for him. I seemed to have his attention. We got naked in bed together, and after enjoyable minutes of writhing and foreplay passed things were heading in the inevitable direction, when I decided to test the waters and try to steer things a different way.

I got on all fours, turned away from Rodney, with my newly sculpted, naked bubble butt turned up toward his face.

"Mmmmm," he hummed, appreciatively.

"You like it?" I asked.

"I love it, babe," he said. He began to stroke my wet pussy with his fingers. It felt heavenly, but I craved a different sensation.

"You can move your fingers up if you like," I said.

Rodney ran his fingers from my clit into the groove of my pussy.

"Not there," I said. "Higher."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"My butt. Touch my little butt hole," I said.

"Uh, Tiffany," Rodney said. "I'm not really into that."

"Why don't we try it?" I asked. "We've never done it there. Touch me and I'll let you fuck me there. In my ass."

"Ewww," he said. "Not appealing. Let's not go there."

We didn't go there. Instead, after a minute or so of more foreplay we settled into the usual routine. I climbed on top of him. Rodney liked me to ride him in the cowgirl position. I guessed it was because he could lie back and not do anything. It was the lazy man's sex position. It felt fine, but I was frustrated with his refusal to fuck me where I wanted it, and I didn't really enjoy it. When Rodney came, I pretended to come too, and we finished and then watched TV until it was time for bed.

Later, in bed, Rodney fell asleep right away, and I lay in bed awake for a long time, upset. I had to get out of my relationship with Rodney. It wasn't satisfying, and it wasn't going anywhere. But my current part-time job put me on a limited budget, and I'd have to find a way to make it work on my own with limited resources.

A few days later, near the end of a workout at the end of the day, Dave walked toward me as I was finishing a set of overhead shoulder presses with two dumbbells. We were the last ones in the gym. My body was covered in a film of sweat.

"Hey, Tiff, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He looked around the gym, apparently to confirm we were alone.

"Sure, Dave, what's up?"

"It's like this," he said. He walked close to me in a conspiratorial manner. The manly scent of his sweat hit my nostrils. I liked it a lot.

"I know about my reputation. Some people call me an asshole. Especially with women. Maybe you think I'm an asshole. But I'm not. Not really. I'm just very direct. If I want something, I ask for it. People can say yes; people can say no. But I'm going to ask. That's the way I am about everything: business, friendships, love, sex." He put extra emphasis on the last word. He paused.

My curiosity was at a high pitch. He didn't say anything right away. He looked closely at me, as though to determine once and for all if he was making the right decision about something.

The tension in the air was, shall we say, very high.

"Spit it out, Dave," I said. "What's on your mind?"

"OK, Tiff, here it is," he said. "You know I like your ass, right?"

"Uh huh," I said, in a small, quavering voice. I wanted to tell him to stop talking that way, or to go to hell, but I didn't find those words.

"I want to fuck it," he said. "I want to fuck you in the ass, Tiffany. What do you say?"

My shock was complete.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"You know what I said. I want to fuck you in the ass."

"Dave," I said. "That's not funny. It's offensive."

"Hear me out," he said, holding his hand up. "Like I said, I'm direct. I call it as I see it. You've been showing your butt off to me for weeks. Don't deny it. It's a great butt. I'll bet you're sex- starved with that loser boyfriend of yours."

"He's not a --"

"Tiffany, enough," he said, with force. I stopped talking.

"I mean what I say. I want to fuck you in the ass. You're free to say 'no.' But I think you'd like it. I've seen you check me out. I can see the way you're looking at me right now. You can deny it, but then you're just lying to me, and probably lying to yourself. Let's do this."

"Dave," I said, stammering, "I don't know you that well, and I'm seeing somebody. What you're asking is offensive and it's out of the question."

"You need this, Tiffany," he said, his voice firm and clear and his eyes steady on mine.

"How in the world would you know what I need?" I asked, trying to sound as indignant as I could.

"I sell luxury cars, Tiffany," he said. "It's my job to know what people need."

"Dave --"

"I'll pay you," he said. His dark eyes bored into me. I felt them piercing through all my defenses and insecurities, felt his gaze laying my innermost needs and wants bare. It took an extreme effort to regroup and put up some resistance.

I was aware, in some vague way, that I should slap him for what he just said to me, but I didn't. I couldn't move my hands. I could barely move my lips.

"That's not funny," I said, after a while.

"I didn't mean it as a joke, Tiffany," Dave said. He paused again. "Ten thousand dollars."

If I was surprised before, I was shocked beyond words now. Ten thousand dollars? To fuck me in the ass? He might as well have said ten million, for all the money I had in my bank account at that moment.

I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. My mind started spinning over what ten thousand dollars would mean to my life. I could pay off my late credit card bill. I could move out of the place with Rodney and get my own apartment. That meant getting out of my dead-end relationship with Rodney. It would be like a pot of gold laid at my feet.

But I couldn't do it. It was an insulting and offensive offer, no matter what it could do to improve my life.

"That is really obnoxious, Dave," I said. "I'm going to try to pretend you never said that."

"I don't think you'll be successful," he said. He handed me a business card. "My number is on the card. You can call or text anytime with your answer. Even if you want to just text me to go to hell."

I took the card, although a voice inside told me I should drop it on the floor. Once again, I didn't know why I acted the way I did with Dave. I wasn't accustomed to any man talking to me the way he did. He was so forceful. And handsome and rich. A part of me was flattered by his attention, even after all the nasty talk.

With a little effort, I turned away and started walking out of the gym.

"I meant it, Tiffany," Dave said as I walked away. "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars if you let me fuck you in the ass."

I turned back to him and gave him my middle finger.

"Think about it," he said, with a smirk. And then I left.

* * * *

I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as I drove home from the gym. I fumed at Dave -- and at myself. At Dave, because of the outrageous offensiveness of what he'd said to me. At myself, because I couldn't help but think that in some way, I had invited him to talk to me that way through my pattern of shameless behavior over the previous weeks.

When I pulled up to the driveway and stopped the car in front of the house, I pulled out my phone and his card. I texted Dave.

> What you said was very offensive.

I waited for a minute or two to get a response but didn't get one at first. I exited the car and closed the door behind me when the familiar "ping" sounded. I looked at the phone screen.

< You didn't say no.

I was so angry I almost threw the phone to the ground, but I stopped myself from doing so at the last second. I didn't reply. I entered the house, boiling mad.

The house was quiet. Rodney wasn't home yet. I decided that being angry at Dave for being an asshole wasn't going to help me in anyway, so I would focus on the evening ahead.

I showered and after drying myself off primped a little in front of the bathroom mirror. I wanted to look good for Rodney. I thought a hot lingerie set might be overdoing it, so instead I pulled on a cute, short, tight-fitting dress and strapped my feet into a pair of chunky-heeled pumps. I turned around to look at my backside in the mirror, and I had to admit to myself that the tight dress molded my butt exquisitely. It wasn't big, but it bubbled out from the dress in a cute, sexy way. Even Rodney would have to notice that!

I clopped over the fake wood floor to the kitchen in my heels and made dinner: spaghetti with marinara sauce and Italian sausage, bread, salad, and a bottle of red wine I'd stashed in the cupboard for a special occasion.

Rodney showed up half an hour later than I expected.

I left the kitchen to surprise Rodney with my outfit, hoping to impress him. His eyes widened on seeing me, so I knew I made at least some kind of impression.

"Wow, babe," he said. "What's the occasion?"

I approached him and wrapped my hands around his waist.

"I thought maybe we could have some fun this evening."

I didn't get the response I expected. He stood back from me with a frown.

"Sorry, Tiffany, but I'm really tired after work today. I'd like to just sit on the sofa for a while and watch the game. We can eat while we watch. Maybe we can have some fun after the game."

So, we ate my delicious spaghetti in front of a basketball game, on TV trays. I wasn't interested in the game at all. I was deflated, and glum. I looked really good -- I knew it -- but Rodney's eyes were glued to the screen and the game.

After a few hours, and a finished meal and a few glasses of wine, we managed to have some fun. Or an attempt at fun. I pulled Rodney to the bedroom and pushed him back on the bed. I purred and cooed. He said some appreciative things, like "You look hot tonight." But he seemed tired, and his words came a little slurry from the wine.

Eventually, our clothes came off, and we had sex. Rodney had me climb on top of him and ride him. He had an orgasm, but I didn't. I couldn't shake how disappointing it all was. I looked better than ever from all the gym work, and I was dressed as hot as ever, too, but Rodney just didn't get that excited.

After coming, Rodney quickly fell asleep, leaving me to sulk in dissatisfaction. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I pulled something out of the nightstand drawer and walked to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

I looked at what I'd brought with me -- a dildo. I chose that rather than a vibrator so Rodney wouldn't hear me. Not that he'd probably notice anyway, because he slept like the dead, especially after a few drinks.

I took all my clothes off, and I hung them over a towel rack. A full-length mirror covered most of the inside of the door, and I looked over my body. I had to admit -- I looked good. If Rodney couldn't get excited or responsive enough to please me, looking like this, I wasn't sure what more I could do.

I pulled a bottle of lube outside a drawer and sunk to the floor, facing the mirror, with my legs apart. I poured some lube over the head of the dildo and spread it up and down its length with my hand. In a few minutes I figured I'd be able to make myself come, Rodney or no Rodney.

I spread my legs a little more and lay back as well, propped up on one elbow, dildo tip poised outside my waiting pussy. But then I stopped. Underneath the waiting and slightly open slit of my pussy lay something else -- the virgin star of my anus. Crowned in faintly crinkled and slightly darker skin than the skin around it, it seemed to stare back at me, forbidden, mysterious, and tantalizing.

I moved the dildo tip from my pussy to my asshole. And I pushed.

Wow, did I get some resistance. My virgin ass didn't give a quarter of an inch at first. The gate was closed fast.

But I kept pushing. It was mesmerizing to watch the dildo against my naked flesh in the mirror. The dildo was baby blue, and it looked good against the pale, peachy skin of my butt and the darker ring of skin around my asshole. I spread my legs wider, hoping to stretch the anus hole so it would let the dildo in more easily. I couldn't believe how lewd and exposed I looked! But it was hot. I was turned on. I kept pushing the glass rod against my hole. It wasn't even that big a dildo. I wasn't a big girl, down there. My body pushed back against it for a while.

Finally, after numerous attempts and massaging, the glass blue tip popped into my butt hole.

Oh, my goodness, that felt different. It was nothing at all like a dildo in the pussy. It wasn't painful, and it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it felt... foreign. Like, it kind of felt good, but it also felt like it didn't quite belong there. I mean, the butthole was supposed to be an exit, not an entrance, right?

But I was determined to make it an entrance, so I kept pushing. The dildo slipped in, farther. It wasn't a big or wide dildo, but I felt a thick, strange fullness in my butt when it went in that I never quite felt with my pussy. Nerves were set off that had never been set off before.

I put more pressure against the back of the dildo and shoved. Slicked by lube and spurred on by the pressure of my hand, it went in. All the way in.

My ass was stuffed. For the first time in my life.

I wasn't sure what to make of the feeling. It was completely different from the feeling of a cock or toy in my pussy. That felt natural. This felt... unnatural. Like a foreign invasion. But not bad. Good, actually. But strange-good.

I had to try it more to make sure. So, I withdrew the toy and watched closely as its length left my asshole. When it was nearly all the way out, with just a fraction of an inch still inside my asshole, I pushed back in.

"Ohhhh," I said out loud on the bathroom floor. "Fuck yes."

I fucked my ass with the dildo, starting slowly but soon quickening the pace.

Slowly, I became accustomed to the feeling. I began to enjoy it. While one hand stroked the dildo in and out of my asshole, another hand dipped down to my clit and began mashing against it.

"Unnnh," I said, more loudly than I intended. I didn't want Rodney to hear me.

I experimented with the position of the dildo as it entered me. Sometimes I pushed it this way, and sometimes I pushed it that way. I discovered that if I pushed the head up, toward my pussy, it gave me extra pleasure. I felt pressure against something inside me that made me want to come.

I put two fingers of my other hand in my pussy and pushed them as deeply as I could. My fingertips felt the pressure of the dildo in my anus. It was wild. I'd never felt anything like it before and had never imagined a feeling like that. Two objects in my holes, pressuring each other through a thin layer of flesh. It was pleasurable, in a way, but it was a pleasure I had to adjust to.