Spin

Every…single…time. It never fails.

Many folks go to the gym to be seen. Makeup, revealing clothing and perfume or cologne that overpowers the senses and actually distracts those around them from having a quality workout.

I go to the gym for the sole purpose of getting my body right. I keep to myself, don't speak to anyone and have a rather conspicuous pair of headphones omnipresent on my head. But no matter what hour of the day I go – early in the morning or in the wee hours of the night – there are at least a handful of women who never fail to catch my wandering eyes.

I know several of them fit in the category of the aforementioned glam queens – baring plenty of extra- sweaty skin when their frumpy high school senior T-shirt would suffice only because they know we're looking.

But some are just so stunning that they could be wearing a plastic trash bag and still manage to catch my eye; the mystique of what's behind it all causes my mind to race and me to nearly kill myself when my treadmill is cranked up at high speeds. I acknowledge that it's all a result of my own rote male weakness, but it doesn't make it any easier during a vigorous workout.

I'm in the gym six days a week, and I deal with this…issue…each of those days. But once, maybe twice a week, there's her.

See, with the rest of the women, it's just a glance or two that lasts a couple seconds at most. But this one lady takes me totally off my game…commanding my undivided attention every time I see her. Beautiful brown skin; tight, curly hair, a body with no discernible flaw and a glance that could pierce the most adamantine of hearts. She's what Ron Isley talks about when he mentions "a winning hand."

She must have run a million miles, done a million crunches, thrown a million jabs in her trainer's hand completely unaware that I was watching her, pseudo-stalker-like, the entire time. As a rule of thumb, I'm never intimidated to approach women, but this one…there's an invisible force field of intimidation evocative of my shy middle-school days that makes me drop my head every time she looks in my direction.

On this day, I'm posted on the treadmill running my heart out in an attempt to beat my best time, when I glance over at her on the exercise bike. Cycling furiously, she's a vision of physical wonder; perched over the handlebars, her face drips of sweat as she pants heavily. She wears a skimpy pink and black latex sports bra – the curvature of her heaving breasts jostling about the fabric as if aching to pop out at a moment's notice. Her bent waist hides what I've seen many times before: a firm, bronze stomach; complete with a dangling stomach jewel that would fit just marvelously between my top and bottom front teeth.

Her skintight black shorts that cut off just above her knee serve to accentuate tight, bulging calf muscles. She's no novice to a life of exercise.

She's managed to truly consume my attention today – more so than usual. I kick the treadmill speed up an extra couple miles an hour to help me regain focus. It doesn't help.

When I finish, I walk past the front desk – ostensibly grabbing a towel as I head to the weight room upstairs – hoping just to catch a closer glance or two of her as she pedals away.

She never even looks up at me.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I re-rack the dumbbells following a few sets of curls when I get a mild tap on my shoulder. My stomach drops when I see my "focus girl", not more than four inches from where I stand. She stares at me with a half-crooked smile and one eyebrow popped up. I'm too stunned to allow anything audible to slip out of a mouth agape.

"So…whatcha got to say?"

"Uhh…about what?"

"'About what' my ass. You're no good at being low-key about your shit."

A nervous chuckle. "What you talkin' about? Low-key? What?"

She drops her head and cocks one eyebrow up, hands on her waist. "I see we can't both be grownups here, eh? Now you want to insult my intelligence?"

I play dumb, but I know exactly what she means. My mind starts racing with the wonder of how many other women could have caught on to my looks. I decide on the fly not to insult her intelligence.

"Alright, I hear you." My voice jumps with nervousness. "So what of it? I…I like what I see. Can't hang a brother for that, can you?"

"Well I can't seem to get a workout in without a pair of eyes burning through my clothes! What's up with that?"

"I mean, you know…people do what they can to get inspired during a workout. Some folks have music, some have magazines. I have you."

"Ah, that's sweet! Maybe I can forgive you for being a pervert just this once!" She deftly strokes her left index finger across the bottom of my chin playfully. I get rock-hard immediately. "That's a pretty heavy amount of looking you've been doing. What do you do with what you see?" She leans in and whispers in my ear. "Do you go home and jerk your cock when you're thinking about me?"

I'm absolutely befuddled at the query. My eyes shoot out of my head as I try to play it cool.

"Damn…a little direct, aren't we??"

"Taking the back road is for punks. Which is why I'm wondering why you never tried to holler at me...you a punk?"

"Nah…I mean…"

"Don't worry about it…I'm just fucking with you." She leans even closer to my ear. "I'd be lying my ass off if I said your eyes on me don't turn me on."

The feeling of her breath against my ear. I get that rush that's unique to the realization that something could very well go down with someone you've had your eye on for a long time. That rush apparently has a detrimental effect on my vocal cords, as I go completely silent. Sweat pouring down her face, she smirks at my haplessness.

"So, any chance I can peel you away from your weights for a little while?" She motions with her index finger to follow her as she walks toward the back of the room. Simultaneously confused and heavily intrigued, I followed her…making sure to grab my towel so as to cover the huge bulge shooting out of my pants.

* * * * * * * * * * *

We stop at the door of the room where the spinning classes are held. I've never been inside, though I keep promising myself I'll give spinning a try someday.

She opens the room with a key that's attached to a band wrapped around her right wrist. Nonchalantly, she pushes the door and walks in. I stand at the doorway…wondering why my legs aren't working at the moment.

The room is pitch black – she purposely passes the light switch at the door, so I don't bother to flick it on, figuring she has her reasons. As she descends toward the back of the room, she looks back at me.

"What are you waiting for? Come in, close the door, and lock up behind you. And don't turn on the light!"

I comply. She could ask me to detonate a thermonuclear bomb in the middle of the weight room right about now and I'd be on it.

"So…what exactly are you doing with a key to this room?"

"Ha. Well, if you ever showed up on Monday mornings, you'd know I teach spin class in here. A modest gig, but it keeps this ass you love gluing your eyes on nice and tight." She slaps her backside for emphasis and puts one knee on a workout bench sitting in the back of the room.

"Well, who else has keys to this room? Could anyone theoretically roll up in here like we just did?"

"Just me, sweetheart. What, you worried someone will come in and interrupt us?"

"And what exactly is there to be interrupted?"

She sits down on the bench and lies across it, her heaving chest in the air. She bends her right leg up and stretches the left one out completely, bringing to mind a swimsuit model I'd see stretched out in front of one of those pretentious-yet-ridiculously-lucky-and-overpaid photographers with the dirty gray beards.

Her head turns slowly to me, as she proceeds to burn a hole in my eyes with hers. The windows in the room provide minimal light in the room…just enough for me to discern her very clear intentions as she looks at me.

"Mama always told me there were times that questions were not to be asked. I'm guessing this is one of them." I traverse the small maze of exercise bikes slowly to make my way toward her – careful not to come off too eager while completely disregarding the fact that we are in a very public gym.

When I reach her, I try to lean down to do…lord knows what…when she stops me.

"Uh-uh." She runs the tips of her left fingers over the contours of my hard dick as it pushes up my track pants. She gently caresses it as one would scratch a cat's chin.

"Is that happiness to see me?"

"Absolutely."

"Hm…" She moves the palm of her hand flatly from the bottom of my still-covered balls, up the back of my cock and over the tip…ultimately making her way to my waistband. The combination of being incredibly sweaty and a long-brewing insecurity about my waistline makes me almost jump back. But I stay my hand.

"Yo…you know I just got done running for a half-hour on the treadmill, right?" I want to slap the shit out of myself for speaking the words the moment they come out of my mouth.

She pulls my pants, and my boxers, down around my thighs in one fell swoop. "Mmm…no worries. That's how I want you…how I want to taste you." She yanks me closer via my waistband, cranes her neck up from her laid-down position and gently massages the tip of my moist shaft with the very tip of her tongue.

She works with precision, making sure only the tip is caressed. No hands, no lips…she's teasing me. Already a bit weary from the run, my legs start shaking a bit after a couple minutes of this.

"You like that?"

"You know I do."

"So, I take it you want more?"

I answer her question without words, but instead with outstretched hands. She quickly sits up and wraps her palms around my wrists.

"Oh no. Listen hon…you need to understand something: you owe me for months of free looks, months of whatever fantasies your dirty little mind has conjured while watching me work out. This is MY game. You do only as you're instructed, and nothing else. Do we understand one another?"

I shake my head with a toothy grin on my face. She stands up, grabs me by my shoulder blades and pushes me down to replace her on the bench. She kneels in front of me, forcefully pulls my pants down from around my thighs to my ankles, and wraps her hand around my cock as she leans down and wraps her lips around its head.

Her warm lips never go down past the head, but her tongue is still the workhorse here: the tip of her tongue continues to massages the tip of my cock. She provides the act the closest diligence, concentrating in a way that only a woman who truly enjoys it can.

The teasing of the head eventually graduates to her using her entire mouth. Her lips shift as she flickers her tongue across my skin…the entire time stroking with a firm yet caring touch. Trying hard to stay macho, I very gently let slip out a moan of approval.

The whole thing is so heady and intense, it's bound to end before I'm ready. I tap her gently yet rapidly on her shoulder so as to keep myself from eruption.

"Hey…hey, hold up…"

She looks up at me, fire in her eyes. "What did I say about doing as you're told? Did I give you permission to fucking speak to me?"

"Nah…no you didn't."

She stands up, and leans over me for a couple seconds before forcefully pushing me off the bench and onto the floor. The woman has ample strength stored inside that chiseled frame of hers.

Once again placing one knee down on the bench, she bends down at the hip, takes the key she used to get in the door, reaches over, pokes a hole in her spandex shorts right at the top of her ass and slowly tears a hole straight down…just above the top of her clit. Her wet snatch pokes out invitingly through the cloth.

"So when you're looking at me, do you imagine how I taste?"

"Uh….y-yeah."

"Do you imagine how I smell…moist after a nice, hard workout?"

I nod, speechless. It's like she's hardwired into my fantasies.

"Well, good news for you today." She snaps her finger and points at her bare pussy, giving me the signal to put my mouth to work. I bend backwards to move my head under her.

What I haven't told her – amid my babbling – is that we share a mutual sexual fascination desire for the sweaty, post-exercise frame. Every woman I've ever been with was too self-conscious to ever let me near her immediately following a workout…though ravaging a body dripping with the sweat of a hard workout has been an as-yet-unrealized fantasy for quite some time.

This was my first opportunity, and the pleasure I always thought it would bring was confirmed the moment her scent entered me – a pungent mixture of sweat from a powerful workout and the flowing juices of a woman pulsating with desire. She doesn't give me much chance to soak in her smell before lowering her pussy lips on my face.

"There you go. Don't disappoint me. And don't even THINK of touching your cock!"

I immerse myself in licking every square millimeter of her walls, and I feel her quickly ceding the control she's held so far in this little game of hers. As she writhes above me, her breathing accelerating, I realize that I'm in charge for the first time.

She's moaning gently, but I want more control. So I move my tongue just a bit north to her throbbing clit. As I outline her pink dot with the tip of my tongue, her slight moans become louder.

"Goddamn…mmm…you don't disappoint…don't stop…"

My hands on her hips, I feel the energy surging through her with every revolution of my tongue around her clit. I imagine this is exactly what it felt like for her to tease me, so I revel in the moment of giving her just enough to drive her crazy.

My poor cock sits untouched, throbbing as a result of the action at hand. But though it begs to be touched, I don't dare violate her command for fear that any disobedience on my part could draw the activities to an abrupt conclusion.

To distract myself from my own urges, I place more attention on the task at hand: I purse her clit between the roof of my mouth and the middle of my tongue, and I roll it around like a lozenge.

"Oh…Jesus FUCK! Oh…agh!"

I interrupt the proceedings with a whisper. "Sssh! You forget we're in public?" I point out at all the folks outside of the window lifting weights…apparently oblivious to what's going down in the dark room.

"Oh…just…don't you fucking worry about me. Just don't stop what you're doing to TALK to me!"

Indeed. It's not like I'm not enjoying myself. So I push my face in even deeper…entirely consumed by her wetness. The louder she gets, the moister she becomes. After several minutes have elapsed – it may as well have been hours – her thighs start quivering in my ten fingertips. Her wrists start shaking as if she's going to lose her balance. She's getting louder and louder…entirely apathetic about the people in close proximity.

Her gushing wetness escapes my lips and runs down my cheek like a teardrop. I could drown in her and die a happy man.

Just as she's on the verge of releasing all over my face, she abruptly hops off my face and hops a few steps away. She turns around, a shiver runs down her body and she yells more loudly than I'm comfortable with…but with a smile on her face.

"Shit! Oh…my GOD. Not yet. Not…fucking…yet." She pauses for a few seconds, heavily panting, and points at me. "You…"

I sit up, and we stare at each other for about 20 seconds. No words. She rubs her hands together; I bite my left fist in yearning. The energy cuts the darkness between us. I find heart I never knew I had.

"Fuck this. Come here."

I stand up, flick my pants from my ankles and rush her. To her moans, I grab her vigorously by her waist and turn her around as she slams her palms up against the window. I crouch down and finish the damage she started on her shorts; literally tearing them off her waist in shreds with no regard as to how she'll leave the room with nothing covering her.

Her beautiful, sweat-glistened ass gives the room all the light I need. I drag my lips up her ass, over her back, across her shoulder and over her right earlobe, which I nibble on with my front teeth as my cock rubs up against her firm backside. I run my palms up her stomach, over her breasts and to the neckline of her sports bra, which I unzip to reveal two heaving breasts; the nipples of which I massage between my index and middle fingers until they become hard as bullets.

"Mmm…just what I like…a man who knows when to take over…"

I bend my knees ever so slightly and slide inside of her; not forcefully, but not gently. She's perfectly wet enough to take me without pain or friction; her tender yet strong walls clasp tightly around my cock with little give. I sense that I will have to discipline myself quickly in order not to let go too quickly.

I wrap my forearms up her torso as I thrust her against the window. She has the body of an athlete – adding an element of the challenge to the event: I don't want to lose face, so I show her that all those squat thrusts I do are for good measure. Still, she pushes against me; flexing her domineering spirit even now while heavily in the throes of ecstasy. I realize that the average man would get pummeled by her… quickly.

After a few minutes, we're both dripping sweat much harder than we were at our mutual workouts. I take my shirt off, so as to lean over her and connect with her sweat-moistened lower back. The moist slather of our bodies turns me on even more.

I'm so engaged in the essence of her that I forget that we're fucking like jackals in the window of a public gym; I'm paying no attention to the number of attendees who may or may not be oblivious to the tiny slivers of light that would reveal our activities. It's only when she starts screaming again that I instinctively place my right hand over her mouth and whisper "Shhh!" She bites my middle finger so hard I swear without looking that she drew blood.

"Ow! Woman what the fuck?!?"

She pushes me back with her elbows vigorously. I fall out from inside of her, dripping on the floor beneath.

"Shut the fuck up! You telling me you can't take a little bite?? In fact, lay the fuck down!"

My 6-foot-1 stature towers an easy eight inches over hers…yet with an effortless two-handed push directly to my chest, I hit the ground ass-first, nearly bashing my head on a nearby stationary bike. I'm thankful I don't; all I want is to see what happens next.

She stands over me, breathing heavily, staring down at me defiantly; her perky nipples and gushy wet slit glistening through the shadows. Her knees hit the ground, she grabs my cock and slides me back inside her.

Regaining control of the situation, she reminds me how powerless I am as she proceeds to grind me in vigorous cowboy fashion that leads me to wonder just how much longer I can hang. Her moans become loud once again, but in my physical position I can't reach out to even risk sacrificing one of my fingers.

Before long, she bewilders me by grabbing my cheeks with her left hand and pinching them as an aunt would her 6-year-old nephew. I know not what to think.

"Is this what you imagine when you're fucking staring at me? Huh? Me fucking you hard like this??"

I can't talk with squeezed cheeks, so I simply nod.

Willpower keeps me in the game as she fucks me using the leverage of her clearly well-developed thighs. Her dark curls are beaded with sweat that eventually falls on my stomach; her tits running across my chest each time she bends down to my face. Every time I think she's preparing to kiss me, she comes within a millimeter of my face and makes something of a scowl, reminding me that kisses have no place in uninhibited, dirty and illicit sex.