Laine hadn't set foot inside a gym since high school and the old, forgotten smells hit her hard, unpleasant, yet steeped in fond memories, ripe with the pleasing context of people doing something good for themselves. The facility was a small mom and pop, owner-operator space inside a single level strip mall on a major road near where Laine and her husband Patrick lived. The hip, almost steam-punk atmosphere was quirky and appealing to Laine, but she knew Patrick would think they were trying a little hard.
It looked as if no more than thirty people would be able to work out in there at a time, but there were less than ten at the moment Laine walked in.
"Hi there. I'll be right with you" a muscular Samoan looking man called to her from where he was working with a middle-aged, dad-bod guy.
In her mind Laine thought "well well" as the big man approached after disengaging with dad-bod. The Samoan had a very tight Staff t-shirt stretched over his boulder-sized shoulders and massive pectorals. The short sleeves stretched to bursting around biceps covered in tattoos. The radiant smile he gave her as he walked up hit Laine harder than she'd been hit by a smile in along time. Guiltily twisting her wedding band around her finger, she smiled back shyly, insecure in the face of such a high-wattage smile.
"What can I do for you?" the Samoan asked.
'Dial down the charm, for one thing' her inner voice snarked defensively.
"Hi. I saw your ad and wanted to look at the Longevity Intention Plan."
As the Samoan went into an articulate, well-rehearsed spiel about the benefits of exercise for longevity and life long health, Laine flashed back to the moment the week before when she had made the decision to join a gym.
At thirty one, Laine was reluctant to submit to the inevitable middle-aged spread she'd seen on people like dad-bod, her husband and nearly all of their friends. Slender since youth, Laine had never had to put any effort into losing weight, or staying fit for that matter, however the last few years the sedentary, comfortable life she lead with Patrick had challenged even her high metabolism. The week before Laine had tried to put on shorts for the first time that season and couldn't button up her favourite pair. Three other clothing failures first depressed her, then initiated a resolution to regain her fitness and maintain it for the rest of her life.
The ad she'd seen for the gym had spoken to exactly her desire, setting up a program for encouraging lifelong fitness adapted to each person's individual needs. A series of varying conversations with Patrick convinced her that her husband would not be joining her on this particular adventure, which was disappointing.
As the Samoan, whose name was Fetu, showed her around, his flirty, genial nature lifted her spirits enough to show Laine the contrast of how unhappy she'd been for some time. Buoyed by his relentless happiness about exercise, fitness and health, Laine could immediately tell she was doing the right thing by joining this gym. The feeling she had as she signed the paperwork wasn't anything like buyers remorse, or a dizzy, uncertain hope. Laine felt utter certainty that she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing.
When the scheduled 'first day of the rest of her life' arrived she entered the gym to find it nearly deserted. Fetu was there, ready to teach her how to care for her body long term. Dressed in a staff t-shit again and loose basket-ball shorts, Fetu was just as charming and flirty as the last visit. Dressed in thick, shapeless sweat-pants and a Justin Bieber t-shirt from her teens, Laine felt his flirtations were utterly misplaced, but she loved it anyway.
Laine found her enthusiasm for his flirtation waned as Fetu began to torture her.
Starting by testing her cardio, which was pathetic, she felt like vomiting. Then he began to show her how to use numerous machines that she sat or lay on that, when she pulled levers, worked individual muscle groups to the point of exhaustion. Showing her precisely which muscle she was working and why it would matter as she grew older, Fetu gave Laine a lesson in bio-mechanics and her own body while she learned how to use the machines and what weights she should use.
Everything was catalogued in a special binder Fetu gave her and Laine's nerdy self was thrilled with the slick packaging that conformed to the steam-punk aesthetic. With instruction on how to care for her inevitably sore body in the next two days, Fetu sent her home with a sympathetic smile and thanked her for coming.
Two days later Laine was in agony. As her tendons tried to seize and tear apart, muscles full of poisonous lactic acid refused to move and Patrick laughed even while he cared for her hand and foot. The friendly affection Patrick heaped on her was in stark contrast to the intimate flirtation Fetu offered, and the difference enlightened the physically incapacitated woman.
Patrick had become Laine's best friend, but, sadly, he was no longer her lover.
They had begun dating in the ninth grade and married after university. As teens their sex drives had been through the roof. As they grew older, all through university, even the first very tense years of marriage and beginning their careers, they had managed to maintain a fairly healthy sex life. At least, compared to their friends in long term relationships it had seemed full.
However, the last four years had devolved to the point where they rarely ever had sex any more.
Laine had once loved sex as a pastime, but now it was merely a pleasant diversion on special occasions. On each other's birthday each partner lavished the other with affection. With utter certainty of what the other loved in bed, they gave the special person exactly the night they usually enjoyed, but Laine realized it had become so routine, so friendly, that the spark Fetu could ignite in her with mere words and glances illuminated things in sharp relief.
Laine's sex drive had tanked and she hated it.
That and her husband's mocking, drove the passion starved woman back to the gym to recover once she was able to. Following all of Fetu's instruction, she stretched, massaged herself, took baths and did cardio even though that hurt. In two more days she was ready to try the gym again.
Pleased to see her, Fetu spoke to her at length about her recovery and then he worked her just about as hard again, careful to help her make sure not to damage, but rather rebuild torn muscle. While doing the seated leg press, Laine was feeling particularity fatigued, her legs shaking, her body reaching its limits when something very unusual happened. Laine felt a rising pleasure as she challenged herself to push harder, the pleasure was physical, intense and insistent in a way she had not felt in ages.
Basking in Fetu's attention as he encouraged her to push harder, looking at his amazing muscles, craving passion and stimulation, Laine gazed at the muscular man cheering her on and worked even harder. Quivering, on the very edge of exhaustion, Laine felt compelled to keep pushing the weight with her legs, the keen delight she felt in her body and spirit invading and spreading to her loins.
Abruptly she felt a detonation of such bliss explode between her legs, she let the weight drop and she shuddered in a shocking paroxysm of euphoria like nothing she had ever felt before.
"Nice work!" Fetu cheered. "You really worked to exhaustion on that one, you look totally spent."
Laine was dazed, bemused and disoriented. What had just happened to her?
Moving on, to finish things off, Fetu told her to do ten sit ups, ten push ups and then run on the treadmill for ten minutes. As Laine did the sit ups, she pondered what had just happened to her and once again as she squeezed her abdomen, she felt a rising pleasure, then a detonation of bliss in her sex. It debilitated her momentarily and she gasped and panted in embarrassed pleasure. No-one noticed her plight, but Laine was mortifyingly aware that there were others in the gym with her.
During her push ups it happened again, so she switched to running and it happened once more after she worked up a good rhythm. With her stride breaking, Laine nearly stumbled to her knees as clenching delight radiated from inside her loins.
The mounting evidence was becoming difficult to ignore. Laine was having orgasms from exercising.
Giving up, her body electrified with pleasure, her thoughts swirling with images of Fetu and the other men in the gym, Laine left and rushed home where she showered while masturbating for the first time since her teens.
Rubbing herself had never resulted in anything before, nothing beyond the simple pleasure of touch. Sex had never resulted in the detonations she'd felt at the gym. Not when Patrick went down on her, not when he fucked her, not when she rode him, or any other position. Laine had never had an orgasm before and, alone in the shower, she was unable to repeat the powerful climaxes she'd achieved while working out.
Physically satisfied with the pleasure she'd felt at the gym, Laine was mentally frustrated that at such a late time in life such a situation should develop. The anxious woman felt like she might rather have never known she could orgasm at all then find out it was only possible while exercising at the gym.
Was that true, she wondered. Was that the only place?
For the next several days, Laine did what she could to experiment cumming away from the gym. When she went running, she pushed hard and worked until she felt a similar level of fatigue, but no orgasm arrived. She did dozens and dozens of sit ups and push ups until she grew sore and uncomfortable, yet no orgasm happened.
