The Gym, part one.
The gym looks empty when he arrives late in the evening. After some stretches and adjusting the stereo he starts out on the treadmill. With the music full blast and the steady thump of shoe against the roller, he doesn't notice the first few strikes to the punchbag in the corner and is startled when she walks past him towards the drinking fountain, almost getting thrown from the machine. She notices. 'Sorry, bet you thought you were alone'. 'I did, no worries though'. She smiles and continues to the water. He watches as she leans forward to drink. His pace slows. She is clad in a sports top, cycle shorts and is still wearing her punchbag mitts. She notices him looking and smiles again, making him avert his gaze momentarily. She walks back, removing the mitts. 'I haven't had a sparring partner for some time, want to go a couple of rounds?' He stops the machine and steps off. 'I'm a bit rusty, but I'll give it a go', thinking that she sounded a bit confident and that his male pride might be on the way to a fall. Gloves on, they stand opposite each other on the exercise mats, touch gloves and begin circling. 'Don't feel you have to hold back, I've taken a few good punches before' she states. Unsure of her comment and wary of his strength, he swings slowly, almost playfully at her shoulder. She avoids this easily, steps in and punches him square in the stomach, winding him. Ok, lesson learnt, he thinks to himself, trying not to show any expression. She giggles and dances backwards, taunting with her gloves. She moves in again, dropping her right hand and hitting him in the chest with the left. He counters with a more accurate shot than his first, landing it on the side of her head, forcing her off balance so she steps away. 'That's better' - still sounding confident. The two exchange light punches for a few more minutes, neither gaining, neither losing. She stops, saying she needs a drink, a pause for which he is grateful; it has been some time since he took a punch or two and his ribs have had more attention than he can recall. As she returns, he notices her nipples are standing proud under the thin fabric of her top, but thinks better of making any charming comment. Squaring off again, she pauses to bring her gloves on either side of her breasts and squeezes them forward. 'bl**dy top...' she mutters. He wonders if she'll notice his shorts are now mis-shaped at the front. Raising her gloves again, she charges forward at him, catching him off guard and landing two jabs to his head before he has chance to block. He falls back as she giggles again. 'Bugger this' he thinks and launches back, hitting her in the stomach and an off target swing that connects with her shoulder. 'Getting into this now are you?' she asks, almost sarcastically. 'It's coming back to me slowly'. More punches fly for the next few minutes until she drops her gloves again and removes them. He takes the opportunity for a drink. On coming back he sees that she has taken her top off and discarded it to the side. Her breasts sit high on her chest, nipples still erect and there are marks from where the top has been rubbing. 'Don't let this put you off, I only bought that top today and it was getting on my tits'. He laughs, removes his gloves and then his t-shirt. 'More equal now then?' 'Not bad either' she says, sounding appreciative of his gym time. 'Round three then' and she motions him in with her gloves. Closing in, the punches have become lighter and more playful. They clinch, heads on each other's shoulder, exchanging light jabs to the sides. He can hear her breathing is harder, her hair tickles the side of his neck. She is hot and beads of sweat are rolling down her body. He tries to step forward to break the clinch but she closes her thighs around his leg. 'You're going nowhere' she quietly states and punches him in the side. Her thighs are clamping his leg and he feels her hips starting to ease back and forth. She punches him again 'No reason for you to stop hitting you know'. He taps her side 'Lower' she orders and rubs herself a bit harder on his thigh. With little to aim for, he hits her arse. 'Again' he is told. Another tap, but followed by a squeeze as he brings the other glove to use. She is breathing harder now, her hips moving faster. Her breasts are squashed up against his chest, her pussy grinding on his thigh. He twitches his quads and she gasps. 'I'm going to come on your leg is that ok?' He doesn't speak, he just twitches again. Her hips grind harder, her gloved hands squeeze around his collar bones, she pulls her head back, looks at him, her mouth agape as her juices start to trickle over his leg. She looks down, still grinding herself on him. 'Fuck' she gasps as her pussy floods, soaking his leg. She releases her grip and drops to her knees, catching her breath. 'Now' she looks at his shorts, 'we should do something about this'...
Posted by guinnich 1 year ago Views: