The Panty Perils of Me 10

Dr. T has invited me to join him at the university's rec. center as his guest. The university conducts classes on yoga, weight training, tae bo, aerobics, along with everything else for faculty, students, and guests.

He has instructed me to wear something that will definitely be noticed.

I only wish that I wasn't so impulsive about these things as I now find myself standing in front of the rec. center looking like I have overdosed on leopard print. I am certainly being noticed and already feel the pangs of regret and embarrassment taking over my body.

Dr. T meets me as I am being stared at by every male and female going into the building.

He greets me by saying, "Ms. Harley, you have exceeded my expectations of you. Your choice of clothing absolutely screams for attention."

I am too humiliated to respond and certainly don't share any of his enthusiasm.

You see I went overboard in my desire to please him. My white leggings with a black leopard print would easily of sufficed to draw attention, however I strive to overachieve or is that "over exhibit"? I added a leopard print cotton sweater, as the day is a bit cool. Probably the decision that I regret the most is my choice of leopard print panties that weren't quite as obvious in my bedroom's overhead lighting. However the light of a midday sun makes my leggings almost transparent giving everyone who is staring a very direct response to any question as to what color my panties are, or in this case, colors.

I just want to get inside and out of the x-ray vision sunlight, but Dr. Thrasher seems to be enjoying the view too much. He continues to talk to me although I am not hearing a word as my concentration is purely on each and every person walking by staring at my butt.

After what seems like an eternity, we finally enter the building and proceed to the weight room. Dr. T asks me if I have ever worked on a weight machine before and I nod my head in response.

I am still overwhelmed by all of the stares that I am attracting which seems to have stolen my voice.

Ok, Ok I admit that I normally enjoy sowing off, but ever since I have started meeting with Dr.Thrasher on a regular basis I find my tendencies towards exhibitionism becoming much more selective. In other words, I don't particularly relish everyone looking at me. I seem to much prefer a very select audience that I can interact with.

The weight room is filled with members of a weight training class and everyone's head turns towards us as we enter the room. The faint smell of stale sweat fills the air.

People are either standing or seated on weight benches, and until we entered the room were giving their singular attention to the instructor.

One entire wall is covered with mirrors, which is suited for bodybuilder's to practice their posing routines. All I seem to be practicing is "Hey everyone! Look at my leopard print panties." And I seem to be very successful at it.

I have definitely interrupted class with my appearance and I can feel my entire body try to shrink in size from embarrassment. That is until I see the instructor.

The instructor is an immense African American male who seems to have been born in a weight room. He easily stands well over 6 feet tall wearing a pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a sleeveless black t-shirt with Gold's Gym printed on the front.

This man has the largest muscles that I have ever seen and if I have the term correct, he is positively ripped. His deep ebony colored skin only adds to the definition of his muscles.

I have never seen a man so perfectly proportioned.

Granted I can only see his massive arms and chest and his sweatpants are rolled up at the bottom revealing a magnificent pair of calf muscles. It still is quite easy to imagine what the rest of him may look like.

My mouth drops open and I am frozen in my tracks despite Dr. T's attempt to pull me along behind him. I am probably repeating the same stare that had recently been directed at me.

The instructor looks me over from head to toe wearing a small smile of satisfaction on his lips while I stand there transfixed by his size and dominating presence in the room. I literally can't stop staring at him feeling both intimidated and intrigued by his amazing body.

I sense that Dr. T is not pleased.

I can feel my lower lips twitch and my nipples grow hard under my sweater. I am sure that I look like a fool just standing and staring, but I really don't care. He is absolutely gorgeous.

Somehow Dr. T regains my attention however temporary and the class starts.

The instructors voice is a low bass and goes through my very bones. Every part of me that can throb is throbbing.

We are all led one at a time through a series of exercises that are specific to upper back and shoulders. The class is not large, but it still involves a lot of waiting as we first watch our instructor demonstrate the proper technique and then each take a turn.

I love the demonstrations watching our instructor's muscles ripple seductively as he lifts weights or pulls cables. I can't help squeezing my thighs together to intensify the physical reaction that I am feeling just looking at him.

At the same time, our instructor seems to take a special interest in me as he constantly hovers over me making sure that my body is positioned correctly for every exercise by placing his huge hands on my hips, back, or shoulders to ensure that I feel the full affect of the exercise.

The heat emanating from his touch is palpable and I can feel myself starting to drip.

I am not wearing a bra under my sweater, as I don't care for exercise bras. I guess you need something to hold in place to bother wearing one, and I have very little to hold in place.

My nipples have not stopped aching since I first caught sight of him and when he touches me, I want to feel his hands under my sweater kneading my rock hard pebbles.

This man is beautiful to look at and even more intoxicating when he is standing right next to me.

I no longer have any regrets concerning my attire now that the instructor is concentrating on me. A rush of euphoria and excitement has replaced my earlier embarrassment and feelings of humiliation.

All too soon the class is over and Dr. T and I are left alone in the room. I try to hide my disappointment, but doubt whether I am successful. The constant vibration that I felt has no were to go. I am left feeling unsatisfied and frustrated.

I can feel my body begging for further stimulation, however my stimulation for the past 60 minutes has just left the room.

I half hear Dr. T say, "Usually I spent another hour or so on my own here as no one seems to use the weight room after class." I am grateful that he isn't expecting me to tell him how I felt being stared at and just want to go home. I have some needs that require my attention.

Then Dr. T brings me out of my melancholia by saying; " I want you to remove your leggings for me. It will help me to assess your desire for risky behavior."

I no longer feel so unfulfilled as I slowly slip off my shoes and pull my second skin Lycra leggings down my waist and off of my legs.

Immediately the all too familiar vibrations invade my body as I now stand in front of Dr. T wearing a tiny pair of leopard print string bikini panties and coordinating sweater. The thought that anyone, particularly the instructor, could easily walk into the room just adds to my disconcertment and excitement.

As my mind races through the possibilities of being seen sending a shock wave through my braless nipples, the door swings open and in walks my African fantasy. Only this time he is wearing a pair of white lycra shorts and nothing else. I do mean nothing else as I can clearly see his manhood extending across his lower pelvic region reaching almost to his hipbone.

I think that I might faint from the overpowering sight of him.

He walks straight up to me and introduces himself as Reggie, but he tells me to call him Reg. It turns out that he is the weight and conditioning coach for the university's athletic teams.

Looking me over Reg asks, " Are you in your posing outfit?" I don't know how to answer and strongly suspect that he is teasing me.

A very warm sensation caresses that sensitive spot between my legs and my nipples again start to throb.

The realization that I am barely dressed and almost alone with this beautiful man sends very moist signals to my crotch only this time I don't have a pair of leggings to hide any telltale moisture.

My frustration of only a few minutes ago has entirely been forgotten and replaced by possibilities.

"Would you like me to be your personal trainer for the day?" Reg asks.

I respond with a sheepish nod of my head and once again find myself involuntarily crossing my legs and squeezing. "Then lets get started." Reg states emphatically.

What happens next is a bit of a blur to me, but I do remember some things in great detail.

First is how Dr. Thrasher leaves me alone with Reg shortly after our introductions. I guess he just didn't want to compete with such a dominating presence of a man.

I am elated to be one on one with Reg and the flush of red covering all of my bare skin is indicative of it.

Second is Reg's reaction to my wearing almost nothing but a pair of my teeniest panties as his anaconda swells inside of his lycra exercise shorts. I am almost beside myself as one of my deepest fantasies of being handled by a giant of a man is becoming real.

Reg takes me through a series of exercises emphasizing specific body parts just like he did in class, however this time he is much more hands on as well as applying the use of other body parts.

When he tells me to try some chin-ups, he grasps me around my hips easily lifting me up to the bar. Now he could have just as easily lifted me by my waist, but by grasping me around my hips its puts his hands in direct contact with my panties and his fingers extend almost to my pubis. As I struggle to complete even one, he assists me by keeping his hands on my hips until I have completed five.

Then he purposely slides the backside of my body down his front until I can feel his large protrusion pushing right between my barely covered cheeks. When I let go of the bar he allows his hands to slide well up my upper torso until my sweater is pulled completely above my protruding and very bare nipples.

Reg's fingers slide right across my throbbing nubs, and I give out a little moan.

He holds me in this position keeping my sweater bunched above my breasts as I push my bottom back into his large erection.

I could do this over and over again.

When I am lying on my back preparing to do some bench presses, Reg is standing with his crotch directly over my face giving me the most exquisite look of the prominent and long ridge created by his penis as it pokes against the white stretchy material of his shorts.

If it wasn't encased in the lycra it would undoubtedly be resting across my face or extending straight-out from his lower body allowing me a most intoxicating view.

Almost every exercise either gives Reg ample opportunity to touch my exposed skin or myself to get an unobstructed view of his physical prowess.

Our exercise routine is tantamount to a form of obscenity and I find myself wishing that it would never end. Alas, after around 45 minutes of being stimulated both visually and physically, Reg tells me that we are done for the day.

I am dripping in sweat as well as another much more personal kind of secretion. Reg's shorts are spotted in front with his own kind of fluid.

We both know that we aren't finished, but aren't quite sure how to proceed.

Much to my delight Reg asks me to spot for him, as he wants to do some bench presses. I am totally incapable of preventing the amount of weight that he is using from falling on him so I decide to improvise.

As he lies on the bench I swing my leg over his prone body straddling his middle torso and positioning myself so his leaking appendage is right between my legs.

Making a very minor adjustment with my hands I insure that his appendage is running from south to north so I am able to properly straddle it.

Reg makes his own little moan of satisfaction.

Finally we are both in a position to relieve our sexual tension.

As he grunts with each push of the barbell I slide my crotch back and forth directly on his barely covered erection.

The nylon crotch of my leopard print panties is slick from my secretions and a smell of unbridled sex is replacing the odor of stale sweat.

It isn't long before Reg's hands are no longer on the barbell, but placed on either side of my bare hips further encouraging my rolling motion across his penis.

I arch my back throwing my head backwards positioning my crotch directly on Reg's leaking protrusion.

Ripping my sweater up and over my head I take his hands and place them on my throbbing nipples.

Reg needs very little encouragement to pinch each one as I concentrate on my erotic ride.

I am so close as his delectable ridge of flesh makes direct contact with my protruding kernel. The thin nylon of my panties and the thin lycra material of his shorts provide very little insulation to the overwhelming feelings invading both of our erogenous zones.

This is anything but a dry humping, as we both moan and grunt in a symphony of pre orgasmic sounds. After 10 minutes of glorious bench work I feel Reg's first massive convulsion as his spunk soaks into my panties. Who would have known that he could squirt right through his lycra shorts. The earthy smell of his ejaculate mixed with my own bodily juices creates an intoxicating aroma causing me to reach my own orgasmic peak within seconds of feeling Reg's warm crème between my legs.

The very slick surface between our bodies allows me to simultaneously milk every last drop from Reg's engorged penis while at the same time giving me a whole series of glorious orgasms.

God, I have never enjoyed weight training as much as I do right now.

I collapse on Reg's enormous chest and he grabs my barely covered bottom with both hands. With both of us gasping for air all I can think about is what it would feel like to be spanked by this man. To be more specific, what it would feel like to be stripped in his class down to just my panties and spanked in front of Dr. T and everyone.

My naughty thoughts were met with another set of delectable orgasmic trembles while Reg continues to grip my cheeks with his huge hands.

When I finally found the strength to climb off of him Reg stood up from the bench and playfully scolded me for the enormous wet spot displayed on his lycra shorts. Then to my extreme delight he slapped me right across my cheeks telling me to go take a shower and afterwards to meet him in the coffee shop.

The sensation that passed through me when he applied his open hand to my backside warranted a long and intimate session with the showerhead before I was able to get dressed. It is quite remarkable at how useful the hand dryers can be to a recently washed pair of panties, making them quite usable again.

This time I relished the stares that I received with my see through tights and leopard print panties while sitting across from Reggie in the rec's coffee shop.

Reg proposes a partnership between us whereby he becomes my personal trainer and I am his motivator.

I only need to promise to wear my posing attire during training as well as spot him while bench pressing. It is the perfect collaboration as I now am able to combine weight training with breath work. J

I have also convinced Reg to wear his posing bikini when we work out.

I am well aware of how tiny the bikinis are that body builders wear to pose and fully expect to see a good portion of Reg sticking out the top. I am sure to get a good soaking while I am spotting him and can't wait for our next training session..

It truly has turned out to be a perfect day.