The Midnight Gym

It was late. The gym I usually went to after work was closed, so I made my way across town to a branch I had never been to before but knew was open twenty-four hours. My workouts had been sluggish and I didn't really feel up to it, but I was obligated. I'd paid for the membership after all. I changed into my workout clothes at the office and biked through traffic to the village, getting my heart-rate going. When I arrived at the gym, it was all but deserted. After stretching, I hopped on one of the treadmills and began to run.

For some reason, I was sensually charged tonight. It had been awhile since I had had sex. From my vantage point on the treadmill, I had a direct view of a man around my age who was climbing a Stairmaster. I couldn't see his face, but his legs and ass were on full display as he labored on the machine. His shorts were short enough to show the shape and muscularity of his legs. Watching him exercise was motivation for me; suddenly, I began running faster and faster; I increased the incline on the treadmill to higher and higher settings. I seemed to be using my work-out to replicate in some fashion the experience of sex. The final push, the last leg of my run, would be orgasmic.

As I cooled down on the machine, I watched the man in the shorts stretch out on the mats. In the mirror, I could see that he was handsome, with a strong chin and full-lips. He wasn't facing me, which helped facilitate my gawking. I admired his chest, the muscles of his arms and wondered what he looked like naked. A friend of his, who was leaving the gym came over to say goodbye and I eavesdropped on his conversation. Not only was he sexy, but he seemed like a nice guy, too. I felt a bit pervy, but I couldn't help picturing him and his friend together, naked . . . in my bed.

God, girl! I told myself. Get it together! I had come here to do a quick work-out, not to get laid, not to gawk. Mercifully, my "friend" disappeared, his work-out over. After a quick stretch, I looked around for the locker room to take a quick shower. Since I wasn't familiar with the layout of this gym, it took me awhile to find the locker room. I went into one of the shower stalls and began to soap down. Again, my imagination got the better of me. I massaged soap into my breasts and watched my nipples harden. I lathered up my legs and felt my fingers graze the lubricated sides of my vagina. I was astonishingly wet. I hadn't even realized it. I actually bent over my pussy to look at it, as if to say, *really?* I began to touch myself -- gently. There were no curtains on the stall, but there was nobody around, either.

I had gotten a Brazilian wax about a week ago, and I was completely, deliciously smooth. It was the first time I had gotten all of the hair taken off. I must have been particularly frisky that day. Usually, I restrict my waxer to a small landing strip. I actually *like* a bit of pubic hair; it seems to define the area. But in this last session at the salon, my waxer asked me if I wanted to take it all off, and I said yes. Impulsive. I remembered thinking, *yes.* I didn't have a boyfriend and no one would see it but me, but I wanted to look like a porn star. I wanted my pussy to be as smooth as the back of my hand, as smooth as my legs.

What was I doing? I brought myself out of this reverie and turned off the water in my shower and toweled down. Since I was the only one in the locker room, I ditched the towel when I went into the steam room. I don't know why I went into the steam room. I had already taken a shower. I would later wonder about this decision, but suffice it to say I was following my impulses.

I have trouble realizing sometimes when I am horny, and this was one of those nights. I simply didn't realize how bad I wanted it, how much I wanted to show off my body, to have someone feast their eyes upon me, to be touched, to be drilled hard with a big dick. I was too inhibited to allow these thoughts to be fully articulated in my brain. Instead, I simply sat in the steam room, naked, letting myself sweat out my horniness, and closing my eyes as I again imagined the naked body of my erstwhile gym "friend." I was wet beyond belief.

When the door to the steam room opened, I couldn't see through the mist who was joining me. Normally, I would have been a bit embarrassed to have been found simply lounging in my birthday suit; the stranger viewing me could have been someone as old as my mother, for instance. Tonight I was indifferent. The steam was a shroud. Whoever it was couldn't easily see me anyway.

Imagine my surprise, as I sat there, fully nude, my freshly and completely shaven pussy on display, as my companion in the steam room emitted a sneeze. Now, you might say, what's the big deal about a sneeze? Nothing, on its own, but this sneeze was distinctly *male.* In fact, there was no mistaking it. After the sneeze, my companion cleared his throat. Also, the steam was beginning to dissipate and his form had become clearer: broad shoulders, slim frame. This was a man. Not only that, but a fully naked man. I was both mortified and outraged. What was a man doing in the ladies locker room? I would have confronted him, but it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps *I* was in the men's locker room. I hugged my legs to my chest and prayed that this dude, whoever he was, would leave before the steam dissolved altogether and I was exposed.

I continued to keep a discreet eye on him. I was sitting slightly higher than him and slightly behind him, too, so that I viewed him from above and in profile.

To my alarm, it became increasingly clear that I was sharing a steam room with the guy who I had been earlier fantasizing about while on the treadmill. Just my luck! Why hadn't I at least worn a towel?

He sat with his head leaned back against the wall and with his arms at his sides. His eyes were closed and he seemed almost to be meditating. I couldn't resist studying him. His arms were thick and muscular and his chest was beautiful, with hair covering his pectoral muscles, lightly covering his well-defined abs and leading, out of sight, to a patch between his thighs. His whole body was perfectly proportioned. I kept wondering if he could hear me breathing. Perhaps, if he ended up seeing me, he would just assume I was a man and glance away.

At the same time that I was trying to protect my modesty, I was absorbing every sumptuous, muscular inch of my gym companion's body. I was unable to resist. My heart began pounding even faster than it had when I'd been exercising. I couldn't move, but I could feel my pussy getting wet. I tried to crane my neck, but I still couldn't see what my friend had between his legs. Until, that is, something -- I don't know what -- happened. His eyes closed, my unwitting companion must have been thinking happy thoughts indeed. There was something stirring between those powerful legs of his; first a glimpse of head, and then the full length of his shaft rising to attention. I had to dig my nails into the skin of my legs to keep from emitting a sound when I saw it. As thick as my wrist! At least, it appeared so. Long, and proud, like something brilliant and boastful entering a room, his penis just stood there, fully erect, while its owner took his steam bath motionless, his eyes still shut.

At last, he moved, and I almost died. While I was fixated on his meaty phallus, I hadn't noticed how much the steam in the room had dissipated. If he but turned, there would be no way for him to miss me. Instead, he began to rub his thick, muscular legs, as if he was giving himself a sports massage. He kneaded the muscles with his fists and then rubbed the length of his legs with his palms. When he came up the side of his ass, his penis flopped back into view and, with one hand, he reached out and began to caress it.

Was I really seeing what I was seeing? Again, I was mortified and at the same time completely transfixed. Never in my life had I wanted so badly to take someone's dick in my mouth. My jaw practically ached from the yearning. I wanted to run my tongue over the veiny, throbbing length of his shaft and swallow it whole, over and over again. I wanted him to fuck my face. I wanted, more than anything I've ever wanted, to feel the fast hot stream of cum slide down my throat in spasm after spasm.

I wanted to do everything dirty I had ever done, and more. I swear, if he had expressed an interest in fucking me in the ass at that moment, I wouldn't have hesitated. I wouldn't have denied him anything. It was perverse. I wanted to be obliterated by a stranger, by his size and his scent, his muscular arms and his massive, straining tool.

I didn't even get the chance. Thinking better of himself, my companion waited for his penis to deflate a little, did a little stretch, and left the room.

The spell broken, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't simply go out with him, into the locker room and change clothes. I would have to wait him out, I supposed. I stood against the wall near the glass door and watched as he began to shower across the room. Taking a seat on the bench, I looked down to admire again the novelty of a completely bare pussy. It looked so . . . so wrong to me, so daring, so naughty. My pussy lips were protruding in a way that I had only ever see in porn, certainly not on myself. I had always been used to hair down there. It was almost as though this was someone else's pussy. I put my hand to it. It was like I was touching someone else's vagina.

Across the way, my companion was taking his time with his shower. I greedily eyed him through the glass as he washed down his legs. Every time he bent over, I could see the pendulous tip of his penis, the heavily-hanging balls that stretched like a soft, fleshy curtain above them, lowered between the beautiful cleft of his ass.

With his back to me, I could watch without fear of discovery. I began to pinch my nipples with my left hand, making them hard. My right hand was vigorously, uncontrollably massaging my pussy. I was brutal with myself. With both legs up and spread, I began to masturbate with a ferocity I didn't even know I had. Pussy juice was dribbling out of my cunt, down the sides of my asshole. I used it as lubricant for my other hand to play with my asshole, first one finger in, then two; with the other hand rubbing my clit so hard I was afraid I would rub it off. I was so absorbed that I didn't even notice that the shower had stopped running, my companion disappeared. All I could think about was pleasuring my cunt, delivering myself to a screaming orgasm.

"Oh!"

I gasped. The door to the steam room had swung open.

"I'm so sorry! I . . . I didn't know anyone was in here. I . . . Excuse me."

I could have melted, my humiliation was so complete. With one hand practically buried in my vagina and the other fondling my asshole, I couldn't exactly say, *wait, I can explain!* Nor could I swiftly extricate myself from the position I was in. He was standing in the doorway, hovering over me in his underwear, a pair of black briefs that bulged with the bundled up shaft I'd earlier gorged my eyes on.

I hugged my legs to my chest. "Is this . . .?"

"The men's locker room?" he said. "I think it is. I'm so sorry. Could you do me a favor and hand me those sandals over there?"

They were right behind me. I reached over with one hand, while using the other to stay decent. I don't know why I even bothered at this point.

He took the sandals and was about to leave. "My name's Greg, by the way." He held out his hand and smiled.

I was relieved. Grateful. He wasn't going to be rude, or outraged, or even comment. "Amy," I said, meekly.

"Amy, it's . . . well, it's really nice to meet you." He made to leave again, but he turned back. "You, uh . . . you weren't just . . . Never mind."

Confronted, I began to babble. "Masturbating? Um, yes! Yes, actually! I was! But I don't normally! I mean, I do sometimes, of course, everybody does. Masturbate, I mean. What I don't do is, I don't normally go into public steam rooms and . . . and you know! I swear to you I have never done this before. I . . . I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, please," he said gently. "You don't have to explain. I mean, for chrissake, I do it all the time."

Shocked, I turned to him. "What?"

He was bewildered. "Huh?"

"You do it all the time?"

"Well, not all time, of course."

"But you do it? In steam rooms?"

"No! No, never!" He laughed. "I was talking about masturbation."

"Oh, Masturbation."

"Yeah," he said. "Only that."

"I see."

"Weird word."

"What is?" I said.

"Masturbation."

We both stared at each other, as if we had both become simultaneously aware of the absurdity of the situation. Me, naked, with my knees against my boobs. Him, holding a pair of sandals while the length of his dick strained visibly against the edge of his tiny briefs.

Suddenly, he dropped the sandals. I raised my arms and pulled his briefs down, freeing his cock, his gorgeous cock, and feeding it to myself like a popsicle. I got to my knees in front of him and held onto his ass while he fucked my face. It was over quickly. "Oh God!" he moaned. I pushed him away and grabbed his pole with my fist and milked it manually. He came copiously over my face, my hair. I ran my tongue to the edge of my mouth and caught a dribble of cum and swallowed it.

"Some workout," he said, breathing heavily.

"Watch the door for me," I ordered him.

In the locker room, I toweled his cum from my face and dressed quickly, while he stood guard at the door, making sure nobody entered or exited while I changed. When I left, we didn't exchange a word.