Mystery Fitness Model Ch. 03

"Shower separately?"

"Yeah that seems easier," I said. "You first."

Neither Rachel nor I disliked the idea of a sexy joint shower, but after a second afternoon of hot & sweaty strength workouts and fucking, we were both famished. Feeling each other up in the tub would delay getting food - much-needed fuel for the start of our bodybuilding journey.

Rachel's toned, muscular butt walked out the bedroom door, and I picked up off the floor all the clothes we'd ripped off each other. I was still wearing my running shoes! After I'd eaten Rachel out and made her quiver and cum, she'd been in such a hurry to ride my dick that she'd pulled my shorts clean over my shoes.

I kicked off my shoes and socks, and stood fully naked in Rachel's bedroom. I examined my body in her full-length mirror. I had some muscle - a little bit of definition in the abs, though not a lot. I tensed up into a bicep flex and my arms grew in size to 18 inches, though they looked out of proportion to my near-flat pectorals. I'd never had good luck building chest meat, and that irked me. Though knowing how Rachel could motivate a man during the bench press..

The memory of yesterday's bench press blowjob made me stir downstairs. I reached one hand to my rapidly stiffening cock, and tensed my torso as I rubbed my other hand all over my chest muscles, looking in the mirror. I was getting horny imagining my future progress as a bodybuilder.. Rachel and I hadn't even started on this journey but already it was turning me on.

I squeezed and pumped my dick slow and hard as I felt myself up: pecs, abs, bicep, tricep, glutes. The prospect of becoming a huge, cut bodybuilder alongside my fitness model girlfriend was driving me wild.

Well she definitely wasn't my girlfriend yet! We'd only met yesterday. But maybe.

At that moment, Rachel walked back through the door, naked, and saw me posing, rubbing my own muscles in the mirror, and rubbing more besides.

"Having fun, are we?"

My hands jumped away from my body suddenly, guilty at getting caught. But Rachel didn't mind.

"Flex for me."

I obeyed: tensing my abs, pecs, hamstrings, doing a double bicep flex with my 9-inch cock standing to attention. Rachel stood in the doorway and did the same flex: OH MY GOD how her abs popped, framed by her firm boobs and cute little pussy. Plus her biceps and triceps weren't meager either.

Keeping her pose, she walked over to me then ran her hands all over my arms, kissing my right bicep and moving her mouth down my torso directly to my rigid cock. Just before she took my manhood into her mouth she said to me:

"You look all right now but I cannot wait until you're bodybuilder huge. Keep flexing."

She wrapped her luscious lips around my penis, put one hand on my glutes and the other hand on my abs. I tensed both as I kept flexing my biceps and triceps in the mirror.

Rachel was not in the mood to take her time: she started jacking me off as fast as her mouth would allow, I ran my fingers through her blonde hair, and it wasn't long before I reached climax. As my knees buckled just a little, Rachel kept her lips tight around my engorged head, keeping every last drop of cum inside her mouth. She swallowed theatrically once I was fully spent.

"Hurry up and shower. I'm hungry for real food."

--

That night we shared a Thai meal - our first proper date. It was the first time I saw Rachel in more clothes than just a sports bra and yoga pants - she wore a yellow blouse and blue jeans, but she still looked absolutely bangin'. One dinner led to another, to another, to more park workouts, and to more sexercise.

We enjoyed the Chicago summer together: cycling the lakefront, seeing bands, and sunbathing on the pitiful Lake Michigan beaches. Chicago's a great place to spend your 20s. I had my day job in the suburbs, but Rachel had more leisure time than me: she eventually told me she had become independently wealthy after winning $4 million in the state lottery. Living off the interest meant she could keep a comfortable lifestyle without having to work a job. Lucky her.

Rachel and I also tried out different fitness coaches, looking for the right fit for our bodybuilding journey. We found Pete: he used to be a pro bodybuilder but had retired about ten years ago, when he was in his mid-30s.

Pete's gym was a one-man operation: he had space in a North Side warehouse with a huge variety of weights and machines. He'd founded PB Lifts to train serious muscleheads: dedicated lifters, most of whom were working towards powerlifting or bodybuilding competitions, or had already done so. If you became Pete's client, you were joining a community, and you could come and go from the gym as you pleased.

It wasn't long before Rachel and I got to know the regulars: "Hey Tim!" "Yo Rachel!" "Need a spotter?" We learned about upcoming competitions in Milwaukee, in Naperville, in Cleveland - everyone was working towards something slightly different and was supportive as hell.

PB Lifts was also very much shirts-optional. When Rachel and I first walked in, our eyes went wide at all of the bare jacked torsos and lean mid-sections, fantastically fit humans pushing themselves hard and enjoying the sight of each other. Pete believed you did movements with better form if you could see your muscles properly, so ladies largely stuck to sports bras and men went barechested. Worked for us! Less laundry, plus neither of us were complaining about the view.

Through the community, we learned about the different classes of posing competitions: Physique, Classic Physique and Bodybuilding for men; and a bewildering array of categories for women.

Pete advised me to go for Classic Physique. For a generally slimmer guy like me, it didn't need as much hulking enormous muscle as Bodybuilding, but he was frank: I would still need to lose a lot of body fat with a strict diet, while packing on muscle particularly in my quads, hamstrings and glutes. No skipping leg day for me.

Rachel had greater choice, but she opted for Women's Physique. Her muscularity was already beyond what was needed for the Bikini class, so that wouldn't be a challenge. She did consider Figure, but that class was dominated by taller women with long legs and fake boobs. Since Rachel was just 5'4", Women's Physique would allow her to build muscle - though she'd have to keep eating cleanly to maintain the definition she already had.

--

Our life became endless meal prep meals that all tasted the same, protein and creatine shakes three times a day, and we both gave up both alcohol and tasty snacks. We threw ourselves into lifting: we were in the gym six days a week, sometimes seven, and twice a week we each had personal training sessions.

I was working out separately in the gym during one of of Rachel's leg sessions with Pete. She had on a black sports bra and red booty shorts, and she was squatting heavy: 225lb, a weight she'd never tried before. I watched her psych herself up: stretching out her lean toned arms against the side bars of the squat rack, blonde ponytail swishing, abs twisting and popping. She leaned forward against the bar, arching her back, showing some cleavage, before stepping under the bar. She hoisted the weight on her shoulders and as she squatted down, Pete stood behind her and spooned her, ready to support her on the way up. If his dick wasn't touching Rachel's juicy, muscular ass, it was damn close. I was transfixed: Rachel's whole body was engaged: quads, glutes, torso, pecs, abs (her magnificent abs).

Pete was always nothing but professional, but I was still jealous of him: I wanted _my_ hands on Rachel's hips, _my_ palms slipping forward to paw her abs, _my_ fingers sliding inside her tiny red shorts, feeling the wetness of her slit.. I'd lost focus on my own barbell military presses and my dick was rapidly growing hard through my shorts for the whole gym floor to see.

Once Rachel racked the weight after four reps, she flopped against the bar and sensed my eyes on her. She looked over my way: my mouth was agape at how much stronger she was becoming. I checked out her body as she breathed heavily, her core glistening and shuddering with every puff. She checked out my shirtless body, including the now obvious bulge in my shorts, and licked her lips.

I kept watching Rachel from across the gym floor. For her next set of squats, she angled her legs more open than before, and I could see the start of a wet patch in her crotch: I had a hard-on, Rachel's pussy was leaking, and the rest of the gym was beginning to notice our sexual magnetism. Another lifter dude came up to me and said quietly, "You wouldn't be the first couple to get it on in the locker room!" He grinned. "Pete doesn't mind."

Both of us had started losing body fat while gaining mass, and on Rachel it meant her quads were starting to show striations in the muscle. Her muscle fibers were rippling with strength - glutes, quads, hamstrings, abs - as she managed managed five more reps, with Pete spotting her on a sixth. Once she caught her breath, she looked over my way, locked eyes, and with a head nod indicated to the men's locker room. I set off there myself while Rachel hung back.

I paced the locker area for a couple of minutes before Rachel timidly appeared through the door into the unfamiliar men's space - lightly tanned skin, face flushed, black sports bra over B-cup boobs, red booty shorts with clear wetness in the crotch. Without saying a word, I took her by the hand and led her to a shower stall.

We kissed passionately just outside the shower curtain - her crotch grinding against my rapidly stiffening dick, lips locked, breathing heavy, her fingernails digging into my back muscles, my hands roaming her back, her bra strap, and then her rock-hard glutes. I gave her ass a solid squeeze and she let out a moan: she'd be feeling that leg day in 24 hours for sure.

Rachel grabbed for the shower curtain, yanked it open, and we tumbled inside the shower stall. I pushed her roughly against the tile wall - glad to say that Pete keeps his bathrooms clean - and shut the curtain behind us. As we kept kissing passionately, I grabbed the underside of her black sports bra with both hands, she raised her toned arms in the air and I yanked the minimal garment off. Her firm B-cups and rock-hard perky nipples were mine for the taking. After hanging the bra on a hook (the floor was clean but definitely not dry!), I took her right arm by the wrist and kissed downward toward her shoulders - her training meant she was getting wider and shapelier there. I cupped her left breast in my hand and used my tongue to make swirls on her right - teasing her by avoiding the areola.

When I finally flicked my tongue over her sensitive nipple, I slipped my right hand down her red booty shorts at the same time and grazed her pussy lips. The combination drove her wild, making her moan as she bit her lip to muffle the sound.

As I sucked on her tit and swirled my finger over her clit, we both heard a different woman moan from the next shower stall over. We paused nervously, and heard a man's grunt, sounding like he was thrusting into her. Rachel and I looked at each other and giggled - we weren't the only couple feeling amorous in the gentlemen's locker room!

We shrugged and Rachel shimmied out of her red skin-tight shorts - she wasn't wearing panties. She then yanked my running shorts and boxer briefs off me, hanging all three garments on the hook, and turned around to back onto my dick.

With her left foot planted on the ground, I grabbed Rachel's right leg by her hard, muscled inner thigh and spread her. Rachel reached through her legs for my now engorged member, rigid as steel, and guided it into her slick, hot, wet vagina. As I entered my fitness model girlfriend, I heard more cries from the adjacent stall: squeals of delight from her, grunts and "Oh yeah"s from him.

Rachel added to the scene with an "mm" and an "ah": a little theatrical! I think she was having fun with the hidden couple next to us! Rachel put on a ditzy porn star tone of voice: "Oh baby you're SOO big!"

I joined in her fun game, putting on a porno dirtbag voice of my own. "Oh yeah? You like it when I fuckin' nail yer pussy? Yeah? Fuckin' fuck me." We giggled at how bad actors we were, but I did punctuate each key word with a thrust forward into Rachel's wetness. I hit her cervix a couple of times and she gasped at that.

We find our rhythm with a few more theatrical porn video noises, and the noises intensified in the next-door shower too. The woman said "Oh yeah, fill me up!" The man went "Ugh, fuck!"

Their rhythm got faster, so we sped up too. My cock of steel pounded Rachel's cervix faster and faster as I admired her body: Rachel's back muscles had really come along, her lats were popping, her waist was still shapely, and her ass was two solid slabs of quivering rippling muscle. My hands grabbed onto her toned legs: the pain of her leg day workout was combining with pre-orgasmic ecstasy as I stretched her pussy.

From next door we heard some slapping noises and a woman's cry of half pain, half pleasure. In reply, Rachel grabbed my hand and slapped her own ass with it a few times, letting out a theatrical "Aeaegh!" I kept fucking her and I slapped her tight glutes on my own accord, hitting harder and harder until Rachel's mock cries turned into real mixtures of pleasure and pain.

"I'm gonna cum!" Believe it or not, both Rachel and next door woman said the same words at the same time. Instinctively, I said "Jinx! Buy me a Coke." What? Some habits die hard!

Rachel laughed but the laugh gave way to the brink of an orgasm. I moaned, the other dude grunted, Rachel cried and the woman squealed: all four of us were reaching climax at the same time.

With my titanium shaft nailing Rachel's divine pussy, the noise in the men's locker room was orgiastic: four people cumming at once, though in two quite separate sex acts. I came hard and Rachel shuddered on my dick, as I unloaded giant wads of semen into my fitness model girlfriend. My head kept rubbing against her G spot as she kept grinding on my dick. Rachel's face was flushed, her hair a mess from her gym workout and her second workout too.

The voices next door were coming down too: "Ugh!" "Oh!" "Oh!" After a pause for breath, Rachel and I burst out laughing, and so did the woman next door. As Rachel laughed, her pussy convulsed on my dick, making my head feel amazing in its sensitive, post-orgasmic state.

We disconnected from each other: Rachel stood on two feet once again, her legs quivering from her intense gym workout that had just finished ten minutes before. We were still both in our gym shoes, and my jizz was running down Rachel's toned inner thigh. She turned the shower on briefly to cup enough water in her hand to wash the cum off her leg.

Rachel put her sports bra and shorts back on - the crotch in her red booty shorts was still visibly wet from before. I put my own underwear and running shorts back on, over my shoes. Seemed a bit pointless to get dressed to re-enter the locker room, but what is the protocol for when you've ended up fucking in the same space as a couple you can hear but can't see?

We stumbled out of the shower stall and Rachel made a bee line for the wooden bench to sit down: her legs were like jello. I went to my locker to grab a bath towel so we could dry ourselves off properly.

It's at that point that the other shower curtain opened and out stepped Harriet. Harriet! I'd noticed her before today. The number one word to describe Harriet is "bombshell". She trained at PB Lifts as a bikini competitor: tanned, blonde, 5'10", legs for days, and most notably: surgically enhanced 32D breasts.

Harriet grinned sheepishly as she saw us, and said simply, "You put clothes on too?"

I'm not the cheating type, but I had definitely fantasized about Harriet. I'd never said hello to her, but I occasionally caught glances of her in the studio during posing practice. While she looked fantastic right now in workout gear, a pale blue sports bra and matching high-waisted yoga pants, her lithe limbs and long lean midsection meant she's something else in a sparkly competition bikini. And probably naked too.

Rachel caught me staring at Harriet just a little too long. I noticed that the shower in the other stall was running.

"Who's in there with you?" Rachel asked.

"You know Dirk?" Harriet replied.

"Dirk? Yeah I think so."

"That's my name boyee!" Dirk piped up obnoxiously from the shower stall.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at Harriet. The two of them didn't know each other well, but they shared a look. I could tell Rachel thought, "Girl, you can do better."

Everyone in the gym knew Dirk: he was a very loud powerlifter. PB Lifts wasn't exactly a monastery - people could make noise - but Dirk was the loudest of all. He'd psych himself up for lifts, talking shit, slapping his thighs, dancing around, doing a lot of racket for not much effect. He was 5'7" and built like a bull: Dirk was a pretty heavy steroid user, and every part of him was huge. Well.. maybe not every part, if he used that much T.

It now made sense: his sex grunts which we'd all just heard were pretty similar to his weightlifting grunts. I should have picked it in the moment, but I was preoccupied.

The shower stopped, and Dirk stepped out wrapped in a towel. His pecs were the size and shape of sourdough loaves: I was jealous of his enormous chest meat and the deep gap between muscles. My chest size was coming along but it was nothing like his. His beefy arms bulged with veins. I definitely had more defined abs than him though: his stomach was just a single block. Powerlifter, not bodybuilder.

Dirk noticed Rachel and me. "I know you two!"

"Yeah, we've seen you," said Rachel flatly. "I'm Rachel." She was not impressed.

"I'm Tim," I said, extending my hand for a handshake.

Dirk gripped my hand and attempted to crush it in one of those dominance games that Gordon Gecko might have played. Asshole. I held my own though.

He leaned into me but barely lowered his voice: "So, uh, was shortstuff here a better lay than my Heather?"

Harriet was indignant. "It's Harriet."

"Babe, you know how I get after sex! Brain fog."

Rachel and Harriet exchanged a look, and stepped away to leave the men's locker room together, when they realized what that would look like to the gym floor. No need to create any more gossip. Harriet went on ahead to the women's locker room while Rachel hung back.

"I'm going to need some foam rolling when we get home," she said to me.

"Yeah you'll be walking funny for a few days."

Dirk piped up: "Can't walk! Oh she _was_ a good lay!"

Rachel was having none of it. "From leg day, you creep!" She turned to me and gave me a peck on the lips. "See you out front."

I took a quick shower, this time for real with bodywash and a towel and everything. Dirk was unnecessarily chatty the entire time, talking about all the "hot chicks" he'd "railed". I barely acknowledged him, just trying to shower and get out of there. He was a pig on the gym floor and even more of a pig in the locker room.

I met Rachel at the front desk all freshened up: me in a T-shirt and canvas shorts, her in a tank top and yoga pants. She said to me: "We should hang out with Harriet. She could do with a friend."

Bombshell Harriet could do with a friend, you say? I looked across the gym floor to see Harriet in her light blue workout gear - lean legs, bubble butt, 34D breasts, blonde ponytail - and she gave me a smile.

This could be trouble.