Gym Shorts

Oh.

My.

God.


Those were, and frankly still are, the three words running through my mind after he grabbed me and pushed me up against the back wall of the locker room. I've had my fair share of shameful walks, just like any young woman in her twenties, though they always took place the morning after some regretful decision... and definitely without said one-night stand's sin dripping down my thigh.

I began going to the local gym somewhere between my last semester of college and graduation. It wasn't so much for appearances (at least from the outside looking in), but rather just to make myself feel good. I was graduating, I was about to be free from school, I deserved to feel good about myself! I knew I could shave off what had gathered around my mid-drift by the time graduation rolled around, but my thighs were inherited from my mother and if history repeated itself, they'd stick around. My sister and I used to always joke that I got my hips from our mom and my chest from our dad, the latter who was skinny as a rail. I was proud of my small bust though throughout school and thankful I didn't wind up like some of the other girls about who got stared down and cat called for what was bouncing around up top.

The town I lived in then was rather small and only had one place to its name. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it served its purpose and I signed up. This is where the kicker comes in though; I didn't meet Mark until near the end of things. I spent the first two months doing things on my own, and having limited success with it. It seemed like no matter what I tried, no matter how many Pinterest boards I went through, I'd be down a pound one week and then up two the next. Truth be told, if it hadn't been for the special the place was running, I wouldn't have even thought about getting a personal trainer to help. I was more than content in my frustration to just give up, call it a day, and just try and stay on my normal diet and cut out the booze.

Mark was determined to help me though. 

He said he wasn't some famous Kardashian wrangler (a line that still cracks me up to this day), but shaving off ten pounds in a little over two months was doable and cheap. It didn't hurt matters either that he was rather handsome. He wasn't a body builder, just a guy that had run track for most of his high school career and kept up his fitness regimen out of habit and decided to share his knowledge to make a few bucks on the side. Toned would be the best description for him, though it was his legs out of all else that really shared the deep lines of accented muscle. Truth be told, he looked rather goofy in that 'he could be my brother' sort of way; tall with a crooked grin and bright hazel eyes. Maybe it was that goofiness that really helped us hit it off instantly.

We saw each other every Tuesday and Thursday for weeks, each session ticking me closer and closer to my goal. I guess most of what eventually happened was sort of my fault looking back on it. I didn't necessarily try to keep my distance anytime he got close, and after the first time I felt his erection through his cut off sweatpants, I got a bit more playful. We had already enjoyed one another's company, and being around Mark made me feel even better about myself. So, I ditched the yoga pants in favor of an old pair of volleyball shorts from high school, and gave him a bit of a show at times.

It wasn't anything blatant. Just subtle little things like taking my time tying up my sneakers, or sticking my backside out a tad farther than necessary during our 'downward dog' poses. More and more I began to notice that stiffened cock of his when he helped me lift weights, and I will admit I brushed up against him a time or two. Maybe that was what truly broke him, because the next thing I can remember, I was up against the wall in the locker room.

I've always been a bit on the chubby side, but never saw much of a problem with it in my youth, and still don't know. In grade school, I was heavier than most of the girls, but by High School most of my baby fat had disappeared but still left me with just enough of a tummy to be noticeable. Like I said, it never bothered me much, and it especially wasn't bothering me with the way his hands ran across my stomach before one dipped between the barrier of nylon and brushed against cotton. Mark's touch was electricity incarnate, causing me to unleash a moan into the air as I kept one arm loosely thrown back to let my hand cup the nape of his neck.

"Are you enjoying this?" His husky voice released in a breath against my ear. Before I had a chance to answer, he was following up. "Of course you are. I can tell...right..." His fingers brushed against the thin cotton of my panties, sending another jolt through my system. "Here." The word was complimented by my moan, my ass backing into that stiff rod that had been the center of my teasing over the past few weeks. I couldn't help myself. I was feeling good, graduation was only a week away, and now? Now I just wanted to have some fun.

I continued to let my hips roll back, brush the curves of my backside against his crotch as his fingers continued to tease lightly. "Come on," I told him through a hot pant, "If you know I'm enjoying this, then why are you holding back?" If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's challenging a man's masculinity always leads to great sex. "You're not going to break me," I furthered through another moan, my nails gripping into the back of his neck, "Come on. Show me what you're capable of."

Those words were all it took to get Mark on the roll. His hands withdrew, coming to hook their thumbs into my old gym shorts and yank them down my legs; panties and all. I couldn't help the whimper that rose in my throat, the cool air of the empty locker room hitting my already dripping core and providing a sense of relief in its own right. I leaned forward, pressing my small bosom, clad in its sports bra still, back up against the wall until my cheek joined the painted concrete as well. As he made do of his own shorts, I once more pushed my hips back, accenting the arc of my hips and backside. 

He took me right then and there, without any hesitation.

It was almost a primal need that radiated off him, as if I were the object of his need to breed, and God did he fuck me like he had trouble getting off. Thick fingers tangled in my red locks, the others gripping my hips as he played tug of war with my body. Push, then pull, push, then pull. It was a sinful rhythm that left the walls echoing with both our moans and the sound of skin, wet with lust, crashing together. "Oh Fuck!" I cried at one point, finding myself pushing back to meet his thrusts despite his own pulls, "Yes. God yes, fuck me." And he did. 

He fucked me until he simply couldn't hold it anymore. Three minutes, ten minutes, it didn't matter how long. The whole scene from start to finish left me with one of the most satisfying orgasms of my life. Mark had told me he was close, had given me enough time to prepare and maybe pull back, turn around and drop to my knees to take his load, but I couldn't. My hips were transfixed in their motions, and as he cried out he was cumming, I felt my walls clamp down around his thickness. We panted, we moaned, my thighs even quivered a bit as I felt my core throb and milk him for every last drop. Needless to say, our session ended a bit early.

I didn't really give him much time to say anything. My panties and shorts were back up in a flash, and I gave Mark a quick kiss to show my thanks before telling him I'd see him on Thursday and slipped out the door. Walking home, I was still so wet. Partially because of my thoughts trailing back to what had just happened, but also because I could feel his sin beginning to drip out from me. I knew one thing for sure though; I'd be wearing these shorts around him more often.

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