There are times when I feel the tug and pull of both my conservative and liberal side when it comes to sex. It’s both a curse and a blessing. Just like beauty. Or never being able to live in complete ignorance after learning about the truth. Sometimes I’m painstakingly annoyed, downright disgusted and put off by the petite signals of sex. Other times I’m upfront, bully or pressure for it and have even physically punched and kicked my partners due to the rejection of sex. But on this particular night I was in need of some sexual action and not having to wait until I went home to get my first fix. Plus I always wanted to have sex in my first home: The Gym.
And so it began..
I was in a bout of hypersexual quickie mode where everything seem to be out of the fucking ordinary like orgasming unexpectedly from what I consider a difficult position (for me). And though I didn’t bless any Bench, Swiss Ball or Nautilus Machine. I found my experience to be pleasantly received. Excitement came from everywhere, whether it was making sure gym members were out of the building or mulling over a secluded spot with nobody knowing what was to occur. I was living within the moment, carefree as a social butterfly with a raging throb that kept pulling my attention below which rushed over me as I stopped my partner every few feet to innocently kiss him and snuggle his bulge with palmela.
With employees roaming around the building and the lights out except for the emergency ones that glittered streaks of red and whitish blue. I grabbed my partner by the hand giggling like I won a plush toy at a carnival with a sun smile on my face guiding him into the darkened women’s locker room carefully. There’s always been something both strangely calm and dirty about having sex in the biggest stall of a gym. I didn’t waste any time as I lowered my pants to my ankles while he kissed the back of my neck and massaged all my hills and curves the way I adore. My heart was racing from the possibility of getting caught, legs tangled in anxiety bliss, middle moist with love and devotion.
I turned around to kiss him heavily on the lips to spill the pleasure he was giving to me with his hand on my ruby seed. Willingly I unbuckled his belt, unbutton THE button, unzipped it as now was his turn to lower the cockblocking pants. But the fun part came when I held onto the handicapped rail. I half-way bent over with one hand mushing the wall for better balance. Then tilting my head towards the side I can see hands fumbling, body shifting and hear his moistening the rod business to prepare for demand.
The first few strokes typically are the most painful for me. But not tonight. My pumpkin was ready and it swallowed him whole while I got up on my tippy-toes to add to the height and arch and awe of it all. As our moans filled the air and the nervousness of sweat clung onto the fabric of our clothes, I took in, how his firm grip felt on my hips, how he pulled me in smoothly and how he strummed my pink hard seed all at the same time. Probably the best feeling was the combination of how my calves were burning hell from being raised as I mimicked his rhythm and pace faithfully while he pumped me with sweet exaltation.
With all my senses lit, pumpkin contracted harder and harder. Clamming down on my partner’s screwdriver while my clitoris was jerked heavenly upon. My abdominals started to clench into what felt like a double crunch, my hand hanging onto the edge of the handicap rail trying to hold on. But my body language deteriorated into a slump as I couldn’t contain my powerful sneak attack orgasm. I convulsed with each stroke as he drove home deeper and deeper with a much fuller force. He was more than close and my calves were championing between fierce blaze and a maddening cramp contraction.
No more deepened inhalations, only shallow gasps and slight gulps. His elation was ready to spill over just in the jizz of time as I was about to dip into my lazy mode with my powerful orgasm and passion energy well spent. He pulled out. His aura felt like thunder as he came remarkably strong. And on a final note: Between you and I, let’s just say there wasn’t a mess the housekeeper had to clean the next morning. 😉