The Patterson Street Gym Pt 01

The Patterson Street Gym doesn't have the greatest facilities in the city. In fact they're pretty crappy. What is has is locality and cheapness. 31 year old Marie Asquith, night manager, looked around the seedy reception area and sighed. At least she had a paying job; no harassing male colleagues; and a reasonable amount of eye candy, she thought as she tracked four bouncing titties and then two wiggling butts as they moved towards the sauna. Marie prided herself on her professionalism: ogling was kept self-respectingly discrete and junior staff were left unmolested. As an extremely red blooded woman, this was a great trial sometimes, especially in regards new summer intern Trina Fields.

Trina was 19 and had just finished her first year at the local community college where she apparently intended to major in Sports Science. This would have suggested a diligent, ambitious girl, looking to learn everything that Marie and her colleagues could teach her about exercise, nutrition and fitness. What Marie was stuck with was a lazy, foulmouthed letch whose only interest in fitness, nutrition and exercise appeared to be ogling male abs and ass, scarfing endless bags of cheetohs and beating her meat to internet porn in the office. Not that coming across the pretty brunette flashing fingers in and out of her pussy and slapping her clit wasn't a stimulating experience. However Marie was left to do the horny little bitch's work. A password was quickly set up much to Trina's anger.

Trina had spotted her manager's 'inclinations' very quickly and added clit-teasing to her list of sins; wiggling her ass and arching her back in a less than subtle manner. Are you staring at my tits Ms Asquith? was a regular refrain even on the odd occasion when it was not the case (I'm a professional you little bitch). Either way it certainly meant that Marie daren't risk trying to get rid of the little monster... and they were pretty little titties.

Trina was indeed looking for leverage but it wasn't just ongoing employment. One of the gym's policies was separate men's and women's facilities. Women could relax knowing they wouldn't be hit on and men could strip down to a jock, or go naked, without complaint. To Trina's great annoyance only male employees could enter the male gym. Considering that the gym's bodybuilding club was a legend across the state, Trina's horny mind could only picture the glorious sights hidden behind the closed door. As huge mountains of masculinity sauntered in and out of the Gym, Trina's gaze lingered on astonishing asses, huge biceps and mile wide shoulders... all fully clothed. What's worse, they responded not at all to her obvious cone-ons 'I'm married sweatpea' was a common refrain. She dealt with her frustration by using her hormone drenched imagination to picture work outs that verged on pornography. These imagined cornucopias of flex and sweat certainly had the same effect on Trina as she bounced her bare ass on toilet seats in the poky staff bathroom while whacking it to a mental movie that made 300 look like Jane Austen. Trina was determined to get access to that gym and manipulating Marie Asquith had seemed the way to do it. However it became clear that Marie could not tempted by hot teen pussy. Fuck Fuck FUCK! And that pussy hadn't received a decent blow job in weeks!

One evening Trina, supposedly taking towels to the women's facility, was wandering round outside the male gym hoping for a peek, when for the first time she grasped the significance of the store room next door. Her devious mind considered whether there might be... vents. Her pretty mouth widened into a grin of startling lecherousness; her pink tongue protruding a little. 'Oh Fucking yeah!' Her panties were already wet as her mind quickly moved on to how she might pilfer the key from Marie's office.

Over the next 3 days Trina tried to work out some way of getting the key. Her failure and her sordid imagination driving her to new heights of masturbatory frenzy, particularly as Jedd Jackson had come in to the gym on each of the days in question. Six feet nine inches of former football player, the 34 year old was a monster of muscle the likes of which Trina had never seen, with a huge package which seemed to snake down one leg. She creamed her jeans each time he sauntered in and abused herself frantically to the mental image of his naked workout certainly going on only a few yards away. A young gay employee named Stephen kept her entertained with explicit descriptions of said workouts in their bulging, flexing, thrusting, fat dick-swinging glory. It was usually after only a couple of minutes of this before both of them needed to make rapid red faced visits to the male and female toilets.