Fetish

"Looking good, Ms. Flores."

Dana laughed under her breath, losing her rhythm on the elliptical machine only briefly. She watched his reflection in the mirror, as he stood behind her nodding appreciatively. Most of the evening crowd was either gone or sequestered in their spin and yoga classes. All of the other treadmills and ellipticals around her stood unused, with only a smattering of men on the far side of the open area hammering away at some of the weight machines.

"You've really improved your technique, and it shows in the way you're powering through your entire range. it's really showing in your stamina, too."

He couldn't have been more than twenty-two, by her reckoning, and he was beautiful. His hand drifted away from his side, fingers spreading to form an approximation of the back of her thigh as if caressing a shield of air around her.

"Thank you, Stephen," she puffed, grateful for the glow of exertion in her cheeks. If he had any idea how easily he flustered her, or how frequently, she didn't know what she would do with herself. She almost wished she'd worn something a little more flattering; something that didn't flatten her breasts quite so much.

"When am I going to get you for another private session?"

"Soon," she said, tilting her head to let her dark bangs slide forward. "I'm still getting a lot of use out of the first one, and" —she paused to catch her breath— "I want to be able to take full advantage of your advice next time instead of spending six months trying to catch up to it."

"If you wait much longer," he said, smirking, "I'll have to take lessons from you. Your turnaround has been... stunning."

He'd done it again. A delayed compliment, ostensibly about her training but combined with a roaming eye that said he was really talking about something else. Instead of merely pushing her buttons, he was attacking them with an icepick. The slow creep of age and the crushing responsibilities of life had taken a toll on her, and only within the last six months had she felt like she had the time and energy to start doing something about that.

She slowed down, two minutes shy of the time she'd been aiming for, and gave him a sly look over her shoulder.

"Mr. Campbell," she said, "I think you're a little too old to be in one of my classes again." She was conscious of coming to a stop with her legs just so; right leg straight down, with her back arched, and her left leg bent nearly ninety degrees. It had been a long time since she'd taken the time or effort to present quite so overtly. Her teacher brain started up a litany of reasons to dial back, and that was hard to turn off.

He didn't even bother pretending he wasn't staring, though he had the grace to at least keep his mouth closed.

"I do appreciate the compliment, though."

Stephen looked up, eyes narrowing, and he licked his lips. "I hope I'm not being too forward, but I used to have the biggest crush on you."

"Fourth grade was a long time ago," she said, as she stepped off the machine and grabbed her towel to dab at her face. He was just the right height too. It was so unfair. Why was she fighting this? "I'm sure I've seen a few of the girls around here posing whenever you come around. Perhaps your talents would be better spent on them?"

Somewhere deep inside of her, a rebellious streak from her youth surged forth and took hold of her inner monologue. If all of those girls were throwing themselves at him, it argued, and they most certainly were, why did she spend so much time noticing? More importantly, why would he ignore them for her? The question was rhetorical, and the answer obvious, but the fire that drove her to work harder and longer did not allow for her to admit that she had reclaimed her shape by any measure, and nevermind that motherhood had added anything.

"What can I say?" His smile was brilliant, and she thought it was thoroughly unfair how strongly that affected her. "I've always been drawn to the strong, independent types. The ones who don't need my help... and, to be clear, you are doing just fine on your own."

Dana shook her head slowly and crossed her arms. "Mr. Campbell, your tongue was always the thing that got you into trouble."

"You should see what else it can do," he whispered back archly, with just a slight curl to his brow. He had no need to be so quiet, with the PA blasting up-tempo techno at all hours of the day, but her eyes immediately cast about looking for someone else he could be talking to or about. Someone else he could be describing. Someone else he could be staring at so intently.

There wasn't. It was only her. She laughed nervously, and she knew the look he gave her then; he had her, and he knew it. She knew it too.

"W-when wou—"

"Right now," he said smoothly, "if you'd like." He leaned in closer, as if sensing the hunt was nearly done. "There are some rooms in the back. Very private."

He was young. He was hot. His arms alone were a staggering kind of thick that she'd always enjoyed. Perfect for wrapping her up and pinning her down alike. It had been five years since her divorce, and even longer since she and her ex-husband had been intimate. For a while, in the intervening years, Dana had resigned herself to being sexless for the rest of her life, but something had changed in the last few months. Something had reawakened her libido, and she liked it.

Dana gave a small but enthusiastic nod, and suddenly both of them were looking around. No one was even remotely looking in their direction, so he took her hand and led her toward the back. She liked that he took her hand. It was very masculine. Very take charge. She squeezed his hand and followed without a second thought.

God, she thought, I sat across the table from his parents at teacher conferences! It wasn't regret or embarrassment that accompanied that thought though; it was thrill.

The room he led her into was not overly large. Wider than it was long, with stacks of step pads, extra mats, exercise balls, and rows of free weights. As elsewhere in the building, mirrors covered the walls, but there were no windows looking in.

Stephen stepped to the side and opened up a box with a key. In the back of her mind, she knew he was getting the stereo going, but all she could see was that the set of his legs was the perfect width for what she had in mind. She was on her knees, with her fingers on the waistband of his shorts, before he knew she was there. The heavy padding on the floor would be welcome.

"Oh shit," he murmured, as the bassline of a song Dana didn't recognize quickly ramped up in volume. "This is unreal."

She gave his cock only the briefest of glances before looking up at him. She wanted eye contact when she touched him for the first time. That always made an impact, and to her mind once you'd seen one cock you'd more or less seen them all. He was already bigger than the smallest she'd ever seen, and beyond that it didn't really matter. A hint of fear, that she'd lost her touch, rippled through her as she opened her mouth and took the tip of his uncut shaft onto her tongue.

His eyes widened as she took him fully into her mouth in one smooth motion. The swelling began immediately, and her fears were quickly laid to rest. Even as he expanded back over her tongue, she kept her gaze steady on him, and she quietly thanked the Lord that she had not developed a strong gag reflex in the intervening years.

"I cannot believe this is happening," he wheezed. "Oh my god, Ms. Flores."

"Please," she said, taking his cock in hand and stroking while she took a breath. "Just Dana. It might work for you to still think of me as your teacher, but the opposi—"

"No no," he said hurriedly. "Oh my god, you are so much hotter now."

There were no other combinations of words in the english language that would have had a stronger impact on her right then. Despite the fact that his shaft had thickened considerably, she took him deeper and deeper. Her arms twined around his legs, lips pressed against his smooth groin and she stared back up at him. Judging by his absolute shock, he'd probably never had anyone swallow him before, but the boy didn't even crack the top ten biggest she'd seen. Maybe not even the top twenty. Instead, she pushed one step further and slid her tongue out to lash at his balls. Stephen's eyelids twitched, and she knew she had him. He knew it too.

She worked him slowly, head bobbing as she let him slide in and out of her mouth. Every few breaths she took him fully again, and the taste of his salty precum soon spread across her tongue.

Dana lost herself in the rhythm until suddenly his hands were in her hair. Her skin tingled, and her spine tried to curl as he took total control. She tried to look up at him, keeping that eye contact, but his thrusts came harder with her head pinned in place.

It had been a long time since she'd been skull fucked. In a way, it felt wonderful to be used again. There was a sense of peace to it, a sense of release, and underneath everything else was a little signal boost to her self-esteem. He wanted her badly, and Dana liked being wanted. She liked it a lot.

A strangled grunt was all the warning she had before thick spunk spilled over her tongue. Her gag reflex kicked in a little, and she pushed him back as his shaft continued to pulse and spurt. Stephen pulled back just enough to exit her mouth, and right when she thought he was done a final burst splashed across her eyelid. Her body quaked. It only would have taken a little bit of dirty talk on his part to push her over the edge in that moment, but in the end the only thing that mattered was that he was still hard.

"Oh my god," he panted, one hand still in her hair while the other moved in a fist along his length. Every time he pushed to the end the foreskin enveloped his head, and the spectacle of it was enthralling.

Dana stared unabashedly, and ran her tongue along her lips.

"Oh my god. I am so sorry."

"Impressive," she purred, as she ran a finger over her eye to collect the errant streak of cum and bring it down to her lips. Dormant instincts, from a time when she was much wilder, lurched up from the recesses of her mind. Dana sat back on her heels, one hand set demurely against her thighs, and smiled as she sucked on her finger. It had been a long time since anyone had cum on her face. It had been a long time for a lot of things, and she thought it was about damn time for some of those things to start happening again. "Stephen, the only thing you'd have to be sorry for would be if that was all you had in you."

He blinked at her, lips working silently.

"Are you done?" she asked, restating.

"What?" he said, bewildered. "No. No! I'm... I'm still..." He looked down at his cock, veins still throbbing along its length, and smiled. "I'm still good!"

His sudden burst of confidence faltered when she stood, with his eyes darting down to her lips as she moved closer to him. There was just the smallest air of hesitation around him as she reached up, took his cheeks, and pulled him down for a kiss. It was soft and slow, with just the slightest amount of tongue.

"All good boys," she murmured, as she broke the kiss, "should know what they taste like."

"Jesus Christ," he whispered hoarsely.

Dana smirked as she reached between them, taking his cock into her hands, and stepped backwards. He followed at the slightest pull. It was only a few steps until she felt the wall against her back, and then he was on her again. Kissing her more fiercely. More passionately. Breath coming hot and fast through flared nostrils. She gripped the base of his shaft like a vice, and he moaned around her tongue. His strong hands took her by the upper arm, and in a flash he had her turned around and facing the wall.

She couldn't have planned it better if she'd tried.

He grabbed her leggings and pushed them down past her hips roughly, knuckles digging into her. She arched her back, planting both hands on the wall, and pressed into him. The wet shaft felt huge between her cheeks. Huge and hot.

Stephen ran a hand around her hip, probing her contours. When she felt him getting ready for it, she rolled up onto her toes and curled herself just that extra little bit to put her needy cunt right where it needed to be. His fingers found purchase, and she almost squealed to feel him take hold of her. She was so wet, and so ready for it, and when the moment arrived that his beautiful, swollen head pushed through her lips Dana gave such a long, low moan that she was sure the music would be insufficient to hide it.

Right on cue, Stephen leaned over her and wrapped his hand over her mouth. He pulled her head back into his shoulder. She could hear and feel his labored breath close to her ear. It was so primitive.

He didn't say anything. He just held her there, fingers tightly clamped in place. His thrusts were shallow, given the angle, but the feeling was so much less than the whole of the moment. Her, with a boy half her age. With a former student, in public. Where they could get caught.

She was on fire, aching for more, so she flicked her tongue playfully against his fingers. Stephen gave a labored grunt, seemingly giving in to his own needs, and righted himself. This time both hands came to rest on her hips, and his grip was like iron as he thrust into her like an enraged piston.

It was a beautiful kind of strain to take him. Her labia sang of the sweet pressure of the impacts, squeezing in on themselves with every push as he collided with her. She quickly shifted her arms so that one was braced against the wall at the elbow, with her forearm running across in front of her forehead, while the other hand reached down between her legs.

It felt so good to touch herself. It felt so good to let go and indulge. Dana had been working so hard, for so long, and she was finally in a position to enjoy the fruits of her labor. It was glorious. He was glorious. She looked back at him and marvelled at his shoulders, and his arms. At the intensity of his grip as he held her hips. The flush of exertion touched his cheeks, but there was no heavy breathing, and no sweat she could make out. He was a machine, custom designed to drive her through a brick wall one thrust at a time.

The longer he went, the more the familiar aches returned to her. Her thighs were on fire from absorbing the repeated impacts, and the quarter squat she curled into. A dull pain in her hips where his fingers held her in a death grip. Her nipples were so hard that they drew skin tight all around them for several inches. So many lovely, unmistakable signs of lust. Each little hurt was turned on its head and fed to the fire. She was wanted, desired, and it made her feel amazing.

The urge was there to slip into fantasy, the ace up her sleeve. All her squirmiest, toe-curlingest orgasms had all come when she was able to slip into that place and wear it on her skin, but the time wasn't right. She could feel it. She could always tell, and sure enough a few seconds later she felt Stephen's breath get high and tight in his throat. She braced herself hard against the wall, well prepared for his final few thrusts before he curled over and around her, holding her to him as he pumped another searing load into her.

For a moment, fear gripped her that he was cumming inside of her, and she might get pregnant, and she'd made a mistake, and she was too old to get pregnant again, and all of that swirled together into a turbulent ball of emotional chaos. It felt good to be a little reckless and throw the plan out the window.

She did have to remind herself that she was on the pill, and that any plan throwing had been entirely symbolic and metaphorical, but it still felt good.

As soon as there was room to, Dana rose up onto her toes until Stephen's cock slipped out of her, and immediately turned to drop to her knees again. His shaft was still nearly at full thickness, though some of the bulging veins had receded beneath the skin.

Dana looked up at him and, with a smile, said, "Good girls should know what they taste like too, you know." Then she swallowed him to the root in one go, and left Stephen a stuttering mess.

Needless to say, it had been a long time since she'd tasted herself. She lost herself in the ebb and flow of a good post-fuck blowjob. Dana had always loved giving blowjobs but this dirty little variant had truly been her favorite, and she found that her love for it had not waned in the quiet years of chastity. If anything, she loved it even more. Her own flavor was stronger than she remembered, though that could just as easily have been from having just worked out.

His was a good thickness. Entirely serviceable, and just big enough to believe it when she backed off with a gasp and said, "Oh my god. It's just..." She gave a little gag, to play it up, and blinked rapidly to great effect. His shaft thrummed in her hand, so hard that she could feel his heartbeat as she squeezed and worked her grip up and down the length of it.

The foreskin really was just incredible to watch. He had an acre of it.

"Here," she said, pointing behind him. "Lay down. The angle will be easier."

Stephen nodded and crouched, and then fell backwards on the mats with a groan. As soon as he did, Dana was on him again. One hand squeezing at the base, restricting the blood flow, while she wrapped her lips around the purpled tip. Her tongue lashed back and forth, and her cheeks sank in as she applied as much suction as she could manage. The imperfect seal of her lips made a wet slurping sound, and Stephen's back arched high up off the ground.

It was hard suppressing her shiver. She had him right where she wanted him. She kicked her shoes off behind her, and shimmied out of her leggings. Then, arms crossed over her torso, she grabbed the elastic band under her top and pulled up.

"Holy fuck," Stephen gasped, his eyes glued on her chest as her breasts dropped. "They're incredible."

She could feel her spine straightening. Shoulders arching backwards. Posture her mother had insisted she master to keep from getting back pain. Her breasts sat much lower than they used to, as gravity had pulled them down, but her nipples were still right where they were supposed to be and she loved them. Especially recently. She'd given herself permission to be forty, and that admission allowed for some changes that were simply true for her now.

"Better than I could have imagined."

And there, agog with validation, was sweet, young Stephen. He reached for her chest as she straddled him, and she couldn't help leaning in just enough to let him hold them. His fingers sank into her soft flesh, kneading and squeezing. He gave her nipple a little pinch and looked up at her immediately, seeming to gauge her reaction, and she was powerless to hide how much it worked for her.

Then he did it again.

His shaft lay against his lower abdomen, and she loved the feel of it running along her cleft. The swell of him was lovely, and she enjoyed the way her labia hugged him. She planted her hands on his chest and slid up and back, relishing the attention more than anything.

"They're so perfect," he murmured, "Ms. Flores."

Dana bit her lip, hard, and gave a little squeak when he pinched both at the same time. "Not too hard," she whimpered. "They're attached." She didn't even care that he'd used her surname again.

Of course, she knew her nipples could handle being treated much rougher, but a lady is entitled to a few secrets of her own. His smile seemed a bit too wide, a bit too knowing, but he obeyed and kept it to a light touch.

The more she slid along his length, the wetter he became.

"What do you think," she said playfully. "Do you think you have one more in you?"