A Gym Rat’s Dream: Bench Make-out!

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.


Mammoth Crush: Dark Knight


It all happened over a year ago.

I met a very popular guy, a professional personal trainer who looks like a linebacker with detailed beautiful strong and graceful features of a black stallion whom many people worshipped just by being in his presence in and out the gym environment. I remember the first time I officially met him, at the top floor where the big boys and big gals play. Barbells, hammer strength machines and steel dumbbells awaited for my arrival. It was after gym hours where the lights automatically shutdown on a timer and whomever decided to stay had to fend for themselves with a small flashlight from their phone like me.

On that particular night I was out to deadlift, but before I started on my merry training session I saw a new person up there: Tall, dark, muscular, handsome and the thing that stuck out the most was the fact that he’s one of the few men I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting who has a nose piercing. He came up to me and introduced himself as one of the trainers and quickly asked me what I was going to work out on and when I replied he asked if I was an athlete. I told him I was working on it. And I never thought about him again the way he slipped out my mind despite his physical appearance.

Somewhere along the line this changed and before I knew it we worked out every single weekend together for months straight through the cold warming one another with our laughter and conversation delights. I’d wait for him to make his protein/supplement cocktail mix after the workouts, sometimes I’d be in the locker room with him while we chatted and chatted about anything and everything about life way past midnight. Than he would walk me to the bus and wait until I got on giving me the smile of the sun to which I enjoyed immensely. Than one night while on the bus I realized how much he turned me on mentally by the conversations we engaged in and I became hooked. He became my muse and every time we spent quality time I jotted a poem, made quite a few blog entries on here and stalked him around the gym, along with many different things.

I knew he liked me because he spent a lot of time with me when he could as long as others weren’t around to observe us. We flirted but kept things calm and collected. One day I became frustrated at all the time we were spending and was beginning to think he was leading me on and I texted him, “Well are you interested or not?” He shot my heart down with, “Hey, aren’t we friends?” And if I wasn’t getting to the point of obsession then, I definitely was going to obsess until I could get over him because rejection turns me on almost as much as a deep stimulating conversation does.

Suddenly I thought that all the time we shared could have been imaginary, that I have quite possibly could have related to the male sex of hope and delusion. But my gut told me different, the universe in all its coincidences like picking up on his scent right before he would come to the gym to let me know he’s on his way and multiple frequencies kept voicing me the truth, that indeed he’s interested and I just have to sit back and remain patient.  Or find it in my heart to get over him?

To be continued..

Here’s the first poem I ever wrote about him dated September 30, 2012.  The title will be under the nickname that recently sprung up to mind:

Dark Knight

We’re having moments


And I’m pulled by different forces,

And recurring neurosis

A question balloons:
Why do you strike me caring and tender?

Sweet giant!

Can you get to me without prying?

You stare through me
with eyes of mysterious fire

I melt in a tension of dangerous desire

Your every word is lush and comfort

It’s southern in the city

Roots from the blood

You edge me to taste the optimism from the mud

You want to teach me the ways

Of your spirit

I can feel you there.
I can feel you there.




I’m uncertain why I enjoy being obsessive over you?
The lingo of the mind, both voluntary and involuntary
The play room of the bloom. I’m heartless obsessing over you.
You give me a wink and my heart fetches for invisible adoration.
It’s easy to be consumed by this dopamine. These chemical reactions.
The biology in me conducting your science, your returning interactions.

You make me angry by saying you’re a different guy.
All I gather is hot and cold, hot and mischievously cold.
Your presence lights up the sky with pots of gold, uncontrolled.
I’m aware we’re aiming in the direction of part-time,

But to no avail and what is amiss? I’m not completely sold.
I know I’m afraid to ruin the image of you in my head.
To think that you’ll turn out to be a regular guy,
Full arrays of dreadful imaginations similar to Drop Dead Fred.

You make me angry by not giving me what I want:
A photo, the opposite of obscurity, a penny for your thoughts sir.
This passion has bled brick red with familiar haunts
Of subtle bouts of nonchalant and errs.