She originally took the invitation to train with him as a simple friendly gesture. He actually brought it up several times, while she began working out on her own, before she accepted his offer to work-out together. She desired him, yes, but did not think that the feeling was really mutual. Even if it were, she did not feel that either of them would do anything. She went to be polite, since she had little else to do.

It was a private gym, so they were alone. Once there, he became so friendly, his flirtatiousness could not be denied. In addition, he was charming. But, surprised and unsure of what to do, she simply went through the motions of the workout. Before she had realized what was going on, he was saying that they were done for the day and he needed to be getting home. She regretted not being more forward, immediately asking if she could join him at his next session. He brightened and agreed.

She altered her clothing then, wearing tight running pants and a thin cotton shirt that clung to her breasts. Most importantly, instead of a sports bra, she wore a sexy, latex one that allowed her nipples to poke through. Rubbing against her shirt, they were readily visible the entire night. He was almost unable to take his eyes off her C-cups with their nipples jutting out like buttons. She was thrilled, and so aroused that she could feel the moisture in her crotch.

After that she worked out with him regularly, their flirtations charging her sex life. She was so excited, physically and emotionally, to have found someone that wanted her and that she wanted in return. She knew she was on dangerous ground; that they might fall off the edge. Yet, the uncertainty of that, in and of itself, was so enthralling that she could not let it go. She wondered only when and how it would end.


As their workouts became more frequent, the chemistry, the sexual tension between them, grew. Every time he saw her, working out or not, his blood ran to his crotch and his hormones went into overdrive. She released in him a pure animalistic urge to take her and show her what a man he was, what a lover he could be, that was only barely contained. He wondered if it wasn't blatantly apparent. It certainly would be to anyone who looked at his crotch. The bulge she created in the front of his pants was unmistakable lusting for her.

While they had started working out wearing plenty of clothing, at least enough to have been considered decent even in public, he noticed, with a carnal thankfulness, that they were becoming more revealing. He thought of the planning that he now put into his outfits. Each day before going to work he would try on his work-out clothes, trying to find what showed more of his body than the day before. Though he could not be sure, from what he saw, she was doing the same.

They weren't wearing less, at least they hadn't at first. It had only been a change from baggy old clothes to tighter newer ones. Their clothing then became tighter still, hugging more of their bodies, showing the other more of their physiques. He loved wearing the tight sweat pants, almost painted to his body. They showed her exactly how big of a package was waiting to be unwrapped. Even more so when, after exercising, the pants slid into his ass crack. This tightened the front of them to the point that not only did his underwear line show, but each testicle was held separately. It was almost as if, just by looking, she could cup one in each hand, holding them apart from his throbbing erection, which she gazed at more and more often.

At first he had simply worn tighter sweat pants. Then one day she had seemed to absent-mindedly spill her drink on his shirt, and for lack of something more comfortable, he had simply removed it. As they exercised that night, she looked more and more often at his chest and arms, especially as they developed a glistening coat of sweat. He was thankful that his body had regained form quickly, as her passion became more evident in her eyes. He remarked how comfortable he was, being cooler and without the tugging restrictions of a shirt. She suggested that he just go without from then on, but the smile on her face told him they were becoming more daring, more openly sexual.

Their next workout, he took of his shirt before they started working out. She surprised him by doing the same, standing in only a sports bra a size or two too small, and the shortest spandex shorts he'd ever seen. They were so tight he could see the lips of her vagina through the curvature of the fabric. He was so aroused that his cock pulsed the entire work out and he could hardly exercise.

That session and for some time after, their outfits remained the same: he in sweatpants only, her in sports bra and spandex shorts. The progression now was marked in physical contact. At first it was only incidental contact while spotting: a touch of the hands, brushing arms or legs. But after their outfits became so revealing, he looked for reasons to touch her. At first he would use any excuse to hold his body against hers, usually under the pretense of having her keep her form.

As this became more common, he noticed her breathing change. He began to touch her for no reason at all, simply caressing her arms and legs. The feeling he got contacting her bare skin was more than an electrical charge and it was tremendously stimulating. She began returning the caresses, at first simply placing her hand on his, holding it to her body longer, then, her hand moving his closer to the edge of her clothing.

Finally, she switched to fondling him outright. As he strained against the weights, or rested afterwards, she would run her hands across his shoulders, arms, back, or chest. Not guiding his movements, but in open wantonness. He loved it. Yet neither of them had broken that unspoken barrier. As sexual as they had become, neither had touched "private" areas, and they had not kissed.

Finally, simply for a change, he switched from sweatpants to shorts. The shorts were baggier than he wanted, though he tried to get her to look up the leg, he couldn't really consider it a turn on. At least she touched his legs more often, though he was still waiting for her hand to cross the line of the fabric, slipping underneath. Then he decided one night just before meeting her to go with sweatpants and without the underwear.

As he slid the sweat pants on, his manhood was pulsing, blood coursing through it, enlarging it for sex. The feeling was phenomenal, the material rubbing him as he moved. He checked in the mirror. Though he trimmed his hair, a few could still be seen poking through. Yet his cock and balls were unmistakable. They were so prominent without his usual underwear, that except for the color of the pants, he was naked.


As she walked in to the gym, his back was to her. He smiled at her in the mirror, removing his shirt. She noticed that his ass seemed unusually shapely, fighting that urge to sink her teeth into it. Her mind was still there when he turned around. With her eyes still just below waist level, his erection was the first thing she saw. She froze in her steps toward him, staring at it. She became wet as she thought about the fact that he was practically naked, clearly showing her his manhood, undeniably stating that he wanted to be sexual with her.

One had dropped to her chest, unintentionally sliding under the bra, toying with a nipple below. The other hand went to her crotch, its fingers mindlessly sliding across her labia, teasing her lower lips. Her eyes half-closed, clouded with her overwhelming desire. His approach went unnoticed.

His hands were on her, pulling her hands away, opening her eyes with her unfulfilled thirst. He stroked her, gliding his hands over her ass, stomach, chest and arms, seemingly covering every part of her body. Her love canal was on fire, burning her entire body. His touch was fueling that fire, and she was his. He was talking and she struggled to listen.

"... here," he was saying. "As much as I'd love to ..."

"I want to," the words came out of her mouth, she hardly knew she'd said them, but was now glad she did. Please don't reject me, she thought.

" ... we can't do anything here," he shook his head. "It may seem private, but someone could come in. Besides," he added. "I'm not sure we want to go there."

As he removed her hands, every cell of her body was crying out for him to touch her, to take over what she had started, to make her shudder with pleasure. But he did not. In desperation, she collapsed into him, pressing her barely covered breasts against his. He did not move away. Hopeful, she ground her crotch against his cock. The nylon of her shorts slid easily over his cotton pants, making it more fluid, more sensual, more like they were actually having sex. Just when he started to grind with her, he moved away.

She simply stood there, shocked, her crotch visibly wet with her craving for him. He began working out, to her amazement. Her mind was so far into what almost happened, that she barely heard him apologize. He said something about it just not being private enough.

"Fine, she replied," her voice so thick with lust she could hardly tell it was hers. "From now on we use my place."


The following night, he sat on a bench in her gym, waiting for her to come in. After a rough day, he wanted this caring sensuality, as well as the physical exercise. He had already removed his shirt and was rubbing sore back muscles. As he sat bent over, he looked at his thinly covered, pulsing erection, wondering what thrilling trouble it might bring for him. Though his back was to the door, he heard her come in. Her hands immediately slid under his, massaging him. He slumped over, closing his eyes. This was wonderful. There was no longer any doubt why he was doing this. It was wonderful being with her.

She massaged him for quite some time before even saying a word. She wasn't getting anything out of it, she was doing it just for him. He had forgotten what that felt like. Through his fog of pleasure, he heard her say she had a bone to pick with him which, he thought, was an interesting choice of words. She thought the whole thing was unfair, and had gone on long enough. She was tired of watching him work out in comfort while she went restrained. Her house, her rules, she said.

He turned to look at her just in time. She stepped back, looking right into his eyes. Then she lifted her bra over her head, letting her large breasts drop free right in front of his face. Without bending over or obscuring his view, she stepped out of her shorts as well. It seemed to him her clothes had disappeared in the flash of an eye. Suddenly, here was this gorgeous woman, supposedly unattainable by him, standing in a room alone with him, totally nude.

His eyes went from her full breasts, to her very closely trimmed bush, down her legs, up to her beaming face, then all over again. He was overcome by her beauty, frozen in place, unable to move. There was simply too much to take in. He could feel his balls tighten with cum.

She wasn't done yet though. She moved close enough to reach his waist, putting her hands on his small love handles. The rules were for both of them, she said. No clothes in "their" gym. And with that, she pulled his pants down to his ankles. She helped him as he mindlessly stepped out of them. Then she stood up and moved a few feet away again.

He could not get over her beauty. It wasn't just her body. Something lit her up from the inside. Her vibrancy entranced him. She smiled at him, tweaking one of her nipples with thumb and forefinger. He was possessed, rushing at her.

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