“The last ten seconds!” I shout above the throbbing bass and the whir of flywheels. Bodies slick with perspiration in the hot, sticky humidity of the intimate studio. Lactic acid burns in our legs as we gasp for air and taste the exhaustion in our throats.
I watch the seconds descend, sensing others counting down in desperation wishing this grueling punishment would come to an end. But as we reach the line, through a wicked smile, I push for more.
“And another ten! Out of your seats and half a turn on the resistance,” I bellow to collective groans and grimaces. The class follow and rise from their seats, legs spinning as fast as they can. And for those final seconds I feast on the bouncing cleavage, sculpted further by body hugging, tight gym lycra. Hair scraped back in ponytails of varying lengths swishing violently back and forth as we collectively push towards the line.
Who’d want a desk job when this was your office!
After a warm down of smiles and stretches, the class begin to drift from the studio towards the refreshment of the showers. Exhausted but smiling, knowing full well they’ll be back next week.
Returning the cycles to the storeroom I wish everyone goodnight.
All bar one, that is.
With the clunk of a cycle I turn to find you leaning against the storeroom door, white towel draped around your neck. My eyes dance over you and the curl of my smile grows. Slick perspiration claims your glowing skin. Your lycra top accentuates the curves of your breasts. Short enough to expose your waist before lycra three-quarter length bottoms that show-off your toned legs and cute behind. These sportswear designers sure had a lot to answer for!
“Good?” I ask with a warm smile.
“Always, although that last 10 was a bit naughty,” you purr. I smile back at your choice of deliberate words.
“You’re going to ache in the morning,” I tease playfully.
“I ache already,” you answer, your intense eyes holding my gaze as you step into the enclosed storeroom. Your palm rests upon my chest as your mouth falls alongside my ear, the door clicking shut behind us.
“I ache for you,” you purr softly into my ear. Your hand complimenting your words as you press your palm into my groin. A smile escapes your lips as you feel me through my gym shorts, blood engulfing and making me swell under your spell.
My hand slips around your waist pulling you closer as I feel the heat of your breath against my skin.
“I can’t wait till we have the showers to ourselves,” you whisper between soft lips lightly kissing my neck, nibbling and nuzzling, as you rub you hand against my shorts.
Fond memories of last weeks steamy encounter, where, under the heat of crashing water, hands and lips had explored every inch of one another in our private session.
I groan softly. Your seduction unexpected as hidden in the studio storeroom we indulge in fantasy. My hand guides your mouth to mine. Hot lips melt willingly as tongues eagerly seek their mate, stifling the soft mewls of our kiss.
Your skin slick to the touch as desires take hold. I lift you to the stack of floor mats, perching you on the edge as my lips slip from yours. Removing your trainers, my hands pull at your lycra bottoms. You giggle, lifting your cute bottom, your hands helping as I pull them and your panties from your legs, discarding them across the floor.
The sight of you fueling my growing arousal as I eagerly bury my head between your thighs. I feel you wrap your legs around me as your scent intoxicates, my lips kissing you and soon parting for my skilled tongue to claim you. You moan, softly as first but soon intensifying with each hungry lap of my tongue as I gorge in your delicious sex. Your desire coats my lips as you lean back on your arms, tilting your head back to the pleasure of my mouth.
Teasing my tongue from your wetness to your swollen clit leaves you breathless. Expletives join the panted gasps that fill the storeroom, your hips bucking against my mouth.
Arching your back from the mats your thighs begin to tense. My hand travels north, caressing your breast, nipple taut and erect evident under the snug lycra. I feel the pleasure take hold a moment before the deep moan spills from your lips as you fall to the inky abyss. Your juices flood my mouth, coating lips and chin I feast and drown in your delicious liquid lust.
Maneuvering you off the mats onto your feet, I turn you to face them, bending you forwards. My strong hand wraps around you and I feel your hands on my thighs pulling desperately at my shorts. Discarded, I guide my deliciously erect cock between your soaked pussy lips. Beyond the mats the storeroom mirror reflects your mouth falling ajar as I slip inside you. You gasp, feeling me sink inside your pulsating pussy, walls clenching around my throbbing shaft.
I feel your fingers reaching back and gripping the back of my thighs as I fill you deeply. You whimper as I begin to work my hips back and forth. The animals within as we fuck hungrily. The buck of your hips, pushing back against my quickening thrusts.
The studio fills to the sounds of our desires. Wet coupling joining the gasps, moans and whimpers of our collective desire. An ever growing orchestra of lust.
My cantering thrusts suck the air from your lungs as we soon teeter on the ragged edge, riding the waves of pleasure that crash over us. Relentless in our growing need, your head lolls forward only for my hand to pull on your ponytail, arching your head to mine we reach an orgasmic crescendo.
Spent, we gasp for air, lost to ecstasy before you giggle breathlessly, “Shower baby?”