Tag Archives: Breast

A Gym Rat’s Dream: Bench Make-out!


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When two people have been fancying and aching for identical obsessions with one another for an extended period of time, fantasizing without end, dreaming superior dreams and witlessly idolizing to only approach together becomes a mixture of strong release, beautiful liberation and a relishing of everything feeling right within moments shared.

I was flat on my back on a blue stretching mat; I had just plopped down from wincing at the unbelievable pain of foamrolling and holding the spot on my super tight hamstring from a training session I underwent angrily abusing my body a few nights ago.  Dark Knight came on over to give me more pointers and how to triple the pressure onto these spots.  I did as told for a few minutes and off he went to continue his Chest and Back Training.

Staring at the ceiling, at first creating faces of pain like I misplaced a long lost love when my ears perked up and I listened out for his grunts and how he grinded out every set of every rep with continuous vigorous craze.  It seemed as if my subconscious took over for a flash and I squeezed my legs together tightly as an orgasm contraction and closed my eyes tenderly and started to pant allowing my breathings to turn erratic.

He came around the corner with his gorgeous radiant smile and asked me how my hamstrings was doing while removing the foamroll from underneath me and placing a big bright yellow stability ball under my legs for cute support.  Among the questions, he asked if I had anything else on my mind.  I shot him the infamous zoom eye to the top left corner look with my hands plastered on my forehead running through my hair frenzied and responded with, “I’m turning myself on listening to your groans as you workout.”

On one knee he lunged to the floor (and I’m not sure what he was talking about anymore once he hovered) and tapped kissed me with his voluminous lips.  I kept my eyes open to gaze at him and he did the same.  A few more beautiful tap kisses and I placed my hands on both sides of his face to drag him in as we suckled in bliss and endorphins.

I crunched upwards towards him and eventually had to hold my neck up but as an attentive lover does, he took his own arm once he noticed and filled his arm in place.  Gleefully my hands slid around his big muscular veiny forearms and against the sweat of his layered shirts that stuck onto his football player traps.  His hands lingered on the back of my neck and then he started to lower down to fondle my breast where he felt for a nipple and pinched it with slight effort as my back arched like a cat in freakish heat.

I’m unsure how I got up from the stretching mat, unsure of how we even strolled into the main shadowy weight room.  All I knew is he sat on the bench with the barbell loaded with two 45lb plates on each side and he pulled me to sit with him, our legs on either side of the bench where he innocently kissed my hair, face and neck right to my lips.  We locked in our mouths and I started to listen and feel what was going on:  Pure chemistry.

The noise of suckling lips, hands sliding the world of bodies.  The moans of desire cascaded on each other’s faces, the eye contact of fury and eyes closed in sensational delight.  The teasing of his kisses where he would open his mouth but not dart his tongue directly into mine all led me to flow with him like a moral story.

What I enjoyed the most was how we both had on sweat and damp clothing from our workouts: I had set out for my many rounds of heavy bag kicks, knees and core work while he gave his body away to monstrous giant sets.  But our funks didn’t matter.  I believe it’s what gave us another beautiful edge.

And I allowed him freely to massage my breasts together from above fabric while he rubbed my fiery nipples.  Then every now and again he would pull me in by the waist as my hands rubbed on his towering chest pinching his nipples from both over and under his shirt.  Then our hands made its way below the waist where he placed my hand on his member and his hands went under my sweat pants above my panty where he played with my clitoris and soothe me by cupping half my face along with words and making “mmming” sounds when he enjoyed my reactions.

Continuing the heat of the moment I unleashed my breasts from the bottom side of the bra as he said he wanted me to cum for him.  But I was scared and paranoid after hours at the gym where I work when his head dropped quickly to lick my nipple in wonderful fashion.  I held onto his bald head for a moment and squirmed for the next.

And in the beauty of this kissing session on the bench, in the dark weight room with one office light on in the corner for slight moonlighting I couldn’t finish what I started and than somehow I got up and went to spot him on the same bench.  I continued to watch him work his ass off while whispering to myself how I need to be on his elite training level.

We broke night, walked many blocks around the chilly city, stared at architectural designs and eventually enjoyed each other’s company and laughter from the heart at a diner eating breakfast.

But that bench, those kisses and him, felt eternal just like the power of the present.

-Pennington

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Erotica: Meltdown


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I would undress for him at a snail’s pace because that was part of his personality that ached. He took pleasure in time because it’s all he had in the world, particularly when I would stand in front of him, nude and unmistakably transparent, offering every part of this body of mine.

He sat with a calm edge on the black chair taking in the view; an expression throughout his face went about, a sigh of silent relief and reached for me like a sculpture of a goddess with his sensible fingertips. And what stuck out to me the most was just how amused he was by my full breasts and how he would open his mouth and lick his voluminous lips like some kind of wily crook. With packed intention and strange focus in his eyes I felt his burning desire right on the nerves of my nipples. I felt exactly how he wanted me to feel aroused and as if his soaked tongue had already curled up into the pleasure-button at the center of my breast.

I couldn’t help it; this form of teasing enthralled me within its sweet sweet torture. It excited me greatly and the wetness couldn’t be contained, my pussy blossomed more and more and the moisture continued to slip out my outer lips making me both embarrassed and flushed. Why hasn’t he touched me yet but with his look I cried in horrible silence? The skin on my body yearned for his touch, I felt water swarming in my eyes and my heart hammered in every part of my limbs. I couldn’t hide my chest or control my breaths from rising and falling. I became deeply transparent and here I stood in front of his growing magic.

He woke me out my thoughts and sentiments by letting his desire loiter throughout my entire flesh and pinpointed his fire heavily through my bosoms. He took them into his hands and kneaded them like loaf taking turns with both to circulate the blood in its entire dough of roundness than pluck upon my nipples kindly to make them respond in frenzied vibrations. He would pinch them upwards and outwards and down with sincerity to make them flattering straight until they stood like tips of pointed arrows staring at his pupils wanting to assault him.

It’s what he ached for, I could hear it in each time he plucked and pinched me how he moaned agreeably and hummed to the rhythm of his own touch than to the rhythm of my own lively body. His hands opened up similar to a promise and caressed me in every delicate technique imaginable and in every inch, of every line, of every beauty mark, of every developed callus, of every pore and every blemish he left not one undiscovered. I shivered as if this foreplay was my first time and buckled in my knees and became bowlegged. It felt almost helpless, the way my body stood in a fire and my nipples cried out in a fury while my wetness treaded jumpy down my legs. I wanted to scream loud enough for the entire city to hear: PLEASE JUST FUCKING TASTE ME ALREADY!

I gasped and tripped forward, my breasts dangling like chandeliers right before his hazel eyes when he pulled me in, a bear-hug around my lower back inching me closer and into that black chair. His face buried in my breasts, he groaned sensationally as he rubbed his brows, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and chin in between and around them. My eyes widened, he must have heard my call and he slid his thick lips and kissed and sucked my sizzling skin, neck and clavicle. The suction noises he made drove me insane but crazed was how he made sure to avoid my nipples. Why? Why? Why for these pleasure-buttons are hurting in horny ferocity?

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But than he inched me back and stuck out his tongue while his hands held my forearms heavy to keep me in place and he poked my nipple with the tip of it. Poke, poke and poke than switched to the other, poke, poke, poke. I glanced down at him in a state of fascination and wept inside my vagina. My areola shrank in size and his tongue went back on my nipple and varied on multiple pressures and stiff licks to make sure my nipple would move a tad during action.

I almost died surrounded by the commotion of every physical sensation. My body I couldn’t keep from moving but he held down my arms and squeezed the life out of my wrists if I thought about getting out of hand and by this point he sucked slowly outwards letting his tongue twirl as he let go only to come back for more. Than he sat me on his lap in a riding position and he growled a loud moan and voiced, “How could you be this wet for me naughty woman? How could you be comfortable to smear all this pussy juice on my legs? I believe I’m in love with you” and engulfed me he did in a firework make-out session.

To be continued..

-Pennington©

Breast Sweat!


Yeah, so sometimes I wonder how many men in the world like Tittie Sweat?

As I write this.. my lovely lad smells my stretched out white sleeping bra.  He’s as interesting as the familiar eye he’s giving me.  The look that knows what I know well:  Pet peeved!  I (normally) don’t like it when he or anyone tries or succeeds in taking a whiff of my sweat, never mind the breast sweat!  It’s intimate, private and grossly personal.  (Boy, do I have intimacy issues! ;)) Frankly it annoys the fuck out of me!   And this would probably be why he does it?  Just to aggravate my nerves with benevolent hilarity.

A good hour or hour and a half session of weight-lifting plus cardio will leave plenty of moisture underneath the savages of these breasts of mine.  Just a few hours ago on the elliptical I felt the perspiration squishing my bra to the underbelly of both these ladies.  It’s weird.  I take my shirt and slide it under the ill-disciplined gals to hurry and collect funky moisture.  Also the thought never crosses my mind when it comes to doing all this in public as I ogle the accumulation of dirty looks from certain (possibly deeply insecure) women and alongside dubious thought bubbles leaving from the heads of men.  Why are people so fucking nosy?  Why must they insist on watching me clear sweat away from my boobs?

What don’t I like about this lady sweat?.. besides the faint fragrant and the under-wire.  Oh, maybe the ring of water?  Invisible dirt/color forming?  And most likely the dead skin cells ensnared and being suffocated in what I’d like to call auto-pilot mode?  Gee, let me guess!  Wondering if I’m a filthy gal for handling things pretty well?  Or maybe it’s the self-conscious feeling of evaluating my own conscious Self?  Ah!  Not to mention if I’m not careful I break out in small rashes easily.  <Insert loud obnoxious sigh here!>

Maybe I should take it as a compliment?   My (on/off ) partner wanting every tang and sweat coming out of my pores, whether it’s from the funk skunk of my underarms to the mush sweat glistening behind the backs of my pliable knees.  Maybe it’s me?   But when you love something or someone you find their foul or their moments of natural perfume/cologne odor animalistic rather flavorful and exceedingly arousing.  I think there may be hidden magic in the unclean person too?  (Probably not in me though?)

Does anyone else smell their partner’s sweat whether it’s from the warmth of her breasts or the working days of his balls and find it to be cool, forgiving, lovely or moving?

Inquiring minds wants to know. 

Pennington