Gym Jam

It was a Tuesday, early evening, and the gym was surprisingly empty. Normally, at this time of day, there would be all kinds of gym-goers doing their thing: huge muscular beasts grunting over heavy weights, Instagram-bunnies assiduously filming themselves a variety of flattering poses, newbies nervously flitting between machines, and everyone in between.

But for some weird reason, today the place was nearly empty. I could only think there must have been a game on, a war had broken out, or some kind of zombie apocalypse had just taken place. "Whatever", I thought to myself with some satisfaction, "this apocalypse is buying me some quiet time".

I was in the upper mezzanine of the gym, in the so-called "functional" area. This was where there was a mix of gym equipment that suited me: rowing machines, pullup bars, kettle bells, squat racks and a few other mixed weights. It was a kind of happy half-way between the full on weights section which was almost exclusively populated by oversized roided-up dudes and bearded powerlifters, and the cardio machines which were mostly the domain of geriatrics and those looking to lose 100+ pounds. Not that there was anything wrong with any of that, but the functional area was my home, and it was where I spent most of my time.

And if I'm honest, another plus of the functional area was that it attracted a weirdly high proportion of attractive girls. Attractive girls who worked out, not so that they were rippling with muscles (again, nothing wrong with that, but just not my personal thing), but so that they were lean, fit and firm.

One difficulty of working out in a gym is that you have a lot of dead time between sets when you are resting, and inevitably your eyes stray around the room. I mean, where else are you supposed to look? And if your eyes happen to occasionally stray across the hindquarters of a girl doings squats or yoga, can you really be blamed?

Don't get me wrong, I try hard not to look. I really do. The last thing I want is to be that leering guy making the girls feel uncomfortable. I fully respect their right to come to the gym and not be objectified. But, on the other hand, I do have to look somewhere between sets. And I can't completely avert my eyes every single time. We all have to make compromises in life, and this had to be a compromise from both sides. Besides which, I knew the girls were looking around as much as I was.

And so it was, on that Tuesday evening, that I was happily working on my bench press in one corner of the functional area of the gym. I was listening to my workout playlist and hyping myself up as I notched up the weight on each set. It was great to be in the gym with no one else really around, except for a couple of people in the other far corner. Plus, I'd been consistently going to the gym for months and eating well, and I was in really great shape. Not body-builder jacked, but with some good solid muscle, only a little bit of stubborn belly fat left, and a really great form that was evident in a t-shirt or a jumper. I'd received a number of compliments in recent months, and was feeling really great about myself.

After a mid-weight set, I got up from the bench to add some more weight to the bar. I wiped the sweat from my face and smoothed back my damp hair. I discretely flexed my muscles and briefly glanced at myself in the mirror. Looking good.

At that moment a girl came from the other end of the gym and threw her towel over a box near the deadlift area which was only a few feet away from me. I recognised her: she worked at the gym and gave the circuit training and some kind of dance-fit classes every day. Sometimes I had peeked through the window on my way to the functional area and briefly admired the mostly female bodies swaying and moving in rhythm to the loud music, tightly clad in bright coloured lycra and nylon.

Needless to say, she was in great shape, and her tight workout outfit left little to the imagination. Her leggings were dark turquoise and tightly hugged her thighs and ass, which were extremely well-toned, with curves in all the right places. She had a black vest on which revealed a small line of her near-flat belly and neatly outlined her pert breasts. I could just about make out the glint of a belly button piercing as she walked past to set up.

Aware that it was my duty not to stare, I resolutely turned back to my bench and added the next set of weights. After a short pause, I lay down again and began another eight reps, my arms now working hard against the heavy weight.

At some point during the set, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was warming up only a few feet from me. She was stretching her hamstrings, which meant that she was bending over with her legs straight, touching the floor. Her ass, which looked like it was sculpted out of marble, was pointing more or less directly at me. Somehow, I managed to shake myself and went back to my reps. Five.... Six... seven... eight. Focus on the weights, I told myself, and I sunk back into the rhythm of the exercise.

At the end of the set, I placed the bar back on the rack, breathing heavily. As I sat up to rest, I couldn't help noticing that she was again stretching, this time doing cat/camel yoga stretches. If you don't know what that is, it involves getting on your and knees, and alternately arching your back inwards and outwards. The cat pose also happens to be pretty much the female position in doggy-style sex. Needless to say, I was again momentarily ensnared, but only for the briefest moment, before wrenching my gaze away. Did every movement she made have to be so ass-centric? And did she have to point it right at me every time? I heroically looked down at my phone to log my last set.

If you're judging me at this point, let me tell you that I was trying *really* hard not to look in her direction. I had maybe glanced at her three times, for no more than a second each time, but each time the image of her figure had been imprinted onto my mind as I looked away. I was determined not to be a creep. But on the other hand, she was the only other person anywhere near me, and I couldn't help looking at her every now and then.

It was now time to go up to the maximum weight for my bench press. I added another two plates with my back turned away from her, resolutely looking anywhere but at the forbidden corner. By now, I could hear that she had moved onto deadlifts. Behind me, I could hear the sound of the bar being lifted off the ground and returned heavily to the floor over the music of my earphones.

I lay back on the bench again and stared at the ceiling, trying to focus. The ceiling was neutral and safe. I put my hands on the bar. Before taking the weight, I involuntarily stole just the briefest of glances towards her. She was facing away from me, half-squatted at the bottom of the deadlift. Her perfectly-sculpted ass and hips mesmerised me. I could just make out her arms glistening with a faint shimmer of sweat, her dark hair pony-tailed down her back.

With great effort I once again looked away and turned my energy onto the bar. I suddenly realised with some embarrassment that I was very slightly aroused, but not enough for it to show, or at least I hoped. I lifted the bar and began heaving out the reps: one... two... Each rep was now a big effort, and the breath escaped my mouth with a hiss as I raised the bar each time. My arms were trembling slightly with the exertion.

At that moment, I became aware of a shape standing over me. "Hey!" it said sharply.

I nearly dropped the bar with surprise, but just about managed to re-rack it. She was standing over me, looking down, wearing a clearly pissed-off expression, waving at me. I sat up in bewilderment and took out my earphones

"Hi....", I said breathlessly, "...everything OK"?

"No", she replied firmly. "It's not fucking OK".

She was staring at me coldly with her dark eyes, one hand on her hips. I was confused, and tried to find something useful to reply. Impatiently, she cut me off before I could say anything. "I'm trying to work out here", she said, her eyes flashing dangerously, "and all I can see is you staring at me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

"Woah, woah", I said, raising my hands reassuringly, "I wasn't staring at you. At all. I'm really sorry if you got that impression, but I'm just here working out as well." I gestured reasonably at the bench and my towel.

"Don't bullshit me", she replied coldly, "every chance you get, you're staring me up and down. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think it's OK to violate my personal space like that?"

"Hey listen", I said, recovering a bit of my composure. I wiped my face with the towel. I was sure that this could be resolved reasonably. "Like I said, I am really sorry if you got the wrong impression, but I'm just here lifting some weights. You came up to work out right next to me. If I glanced at you once or twice, I can't help it. What am I supposed to do?"

"What you're supposed to do", she said, "is keep your fucking eyes to yourself, and not drool over me like I'm putting on a personal show for you."

Now I was getting pissed off myself. I didn't deserve this kind of abuse. "So I should, what, act like you're invisible? If you don't like people looking at you, you'd be better off working out at home."

"The fucking arrogance" she hissed at me. "so I should stay at home, just to avoid perverts like you? Fuck you. You do know I work here, right?"

At that moment, a couple walked up the stairs and put their towels down on the dip bars nearby. She glanced at them and then returned to me, now speaking more quietly, but still without a hint of warmth.

"I don't want to make a scene here. Come with me now, or I'll go and speak to the manager and get you thrown out, and you'll be banned for life. I'm going to show you the rules of the gym. Perhaps you missed them."

She walked towards a nearby door. I felt horribly misjudged, but I could see I had no choice. Shaking my head, I picked up my phone and followed her. Clearly, she was seriously pissed off about something, and it probably wasn't me in particular. On the other hand, I didn't want to get kicked out of the gym, and I knew they would take her word over mine. I decided to try to weather this storm, at least for the moment.

She led me into a side room which was used for spinning and dance workouts. There was no one else there, and it was only half-lit through the partially closed blinds over the window. On one wall there were full-length mirrors. Some soft mats were on the floor here and there, and a pile of them was stacked up in the corner. She closed the door and turned to face me.

"Let me get one thing straight. What you were doing in there was straight up sexual harassment. I could have you thrown out of the gym in five minutes."

I had to protest this. "I barely even looked at you! This is fucking crazy!"

Her expression hardened still further. She considered me for a moment, and then continued quietly, "All I have to do is tell the manager that you were staring at me and harassing me, and that you..." she bit her lip in malicious satisfaction, "grabbed me and tried to force yourself on me".

I gaped. This had to be some kind of sick joke. "What the fuck are you talking about? Nothing even remotely like that happened!"

She shook her head with a mocking smile and waggled her finger. "It doesn't matter what happened. What matters is what I say happened. Got that?" She tapped her head sarcastically.

I stared at her in silence, my heart pounding with anger. But I knew she was right. She was a gym employee, and a woman. Whatever I, some random guy, said, she would be believed and not me.

"But..." she said, obviously relishing the power she held over me, "if you do exactly as I say, Then we can avoid all of that."

"This is messed up. What do you want?" I asked, shaking my head in resigned disbelief.

"You can start", she said, by now pacing up and down on the spot, "by doing fifty press-ups, no breaks"

I stared at her for a moment in disgust. But then I dropped onto the floor. My arms were already tired from the bench presses, but I knew that fifty reps was within my range. I got to work. If it was fifty press-ups or charges of sexual harassment, I knew which one I was going for. I guessed this was some weird power/insecurity thing that she had to satisfy. Whatever -- I was going to do a few sets of press-ups today anyway.

As I worked through the reps, she walked in circles around me. She began to throw mocking comments at me, laughing about how weak and stupid I was. She seemed almost to be getting off on humiliating me. I bit my tongue and worked through the set, my arms beginning to burn. As I approached forty reps, I began to slow down.

"Giving up are we?" she mocked. "Such a fucking pussy".

But I didn't give up. Even though this was a severely fucked up situation, I was determined to finish the set, and sure enough, even though the last reps were very slow, I trembled my way to fifty. I sat up and looked at her. "Are you happy now?" I asked.

"Squats." she said dryly. "One hundred".

At this point, it almost didn't come as a surprise. Setting my will against hers, I began the set. As I squatted up and down, she paced around, again lecturing me about men intimidating women, and how it felt to be the one being bossed around, and how she was educating me. She was obviously determined to take out all her bad feelings against men on me, even though I'd only met her minutes before. A few sessions of therapy wouldn't go amiss, I thought grimly to myself. I was determined to get through this and get the hell out of there.

After one hundred squats, my thighs burning and sweat dripping from my forehead, I stood up straight. She looked almost disappointed, as if she had been looking forward to my failure. Then, she hesitated, as if wondering what to do next. I could see she was thinking carefully.

After a long pause, she said quietly, and with a casual flick of her hand, "drop your pants".

"Excuse me?" I choked. If the situation had been fucked up before, it had now reached new levels.

"Sorry, maybe I didn't make that clear", she said levelly. "Drop your pants, or I call the police for sexual harassment. It's up to you."

I stared at her for several moments. She stared back, not breaking my gaze. Finally, I nodded. I pulled down my pants and underwear to my thighs. My cock was suddenly exposed. I was almost surprised to find it very slightly aroused and erect.

"Fucking tiny, as I expected" she scoffed. I knew she was lying about that. I knew perfectly well that my cock was nicely above average, and I was sure she knew that too. But apparently, she had some score to settle with the world, some deep desire to insult and humiliate me. She launched into a sudden angry and breathless tirade.

"You're a typical fucking man. All cock and no brains. Leering at women wherever you go, as if we exist just to decorate the fucking place. All you ever think about is using women for your pleasure and then throwing them away like a piece of old trash. Do you ever stop to think for a single minute the damage you're doing? Do you give a single shit about anyone except yourselves? Like fuck you do. You just saunter your way through life with your fucking male privilege. I mean, who cares if a few hearts get broken, right? Who cares about fucking anyone, right?!"

She was pacing up and down, faster and faster, her breasts heaving slightly from the anger, glaring at me with a face screwed up with emotion. I stood there, bewildered, half angry, half almost pitying her for whatever had caused this unhinged outburst.

"Don't even get me started on sex", she continued bitterly, "all you men want to do is blow your load and then fuck off. Like women deserve any sexual pleasure at all. It's all 'get on your knees and be a good girl, and then when you're done go and do the dishes'. Fucking pigs."

She was right up in my face by now, and I could feel her hot breath on my face. Small flecks of spit hit my cheeks as she talked. Bizarrely, and in a way that almost confirmed her crazy rant, I found that I wasn't thinking about the barrage of insults and humiliation that she had just heaped on me. Instead, I was focused on her deep brown eyes, her sharp eyebrows, the cut of her black top and the curved breasts underneath. As she finished to catch her breath, I felt my cock stirring.

Involuntarily, I glanced down. My cock was now half-erect. She followed my glance, and gasped with surprise before quickly recovering her anger.

"So fucking typical", she seethed, "I bet you didn't hear a single word I said."

She considered me for a moment, again hesitating. Finally she said, "get on your knees".

At this point, I could have easily walked out of the room. Admittedly, this was a kind of male privilege -- whatever she said to me, however much she verbally abused me, I knew that she couldn't stop me walking away, I could always overpower her in physical strength. But I have to admit that at this point I was curious to see where this was going. I knew that at any moment I could escape if I wanted to.

I knelt down. She walked up close to me and looked down at me. "I'm going to teach you, for one single time in your selfish fucking life, to give and not take. If you can do that, I'll let you go."

She slowly pulled down her leggings, over her hips, and down her thighs. Her white panties came down with it. Inches from my face, I followed the thin line of neat pubic hair that ran from just below her belly to between her thighs. In fascination, I watched as her panties were rolled back to expose the front of her vulva. She'd been working out and her thighs and pubic area were damp with sweat, and I could smell the musk and feel the heat of her sex. Small drops of moisture clung to the short hairs between her thighs.

Before I had time to take in the scene any further, she stepped towards me even closer, grasped the back of my head with her hand, and firmly thrust my face between her legs. My lips and nose made contact with the soft damp skin and the slightly rough short pubic hair, and I willingly and instinctively opened my mouth to drink in the flavour of her pussy.

I'll admit right here and now that her wetness, mixed with the raw sweat of the workout, really turned me on, on a primal level. Normally, I shower before sex and I like my partner to do the same, but somehow the heavy raw scent of her body, and her aroused pussy, drove me wild. I'd also never fantasised about being bossed around by a women in bed, but I had to admit that in some weird way I'd got very turned on by her trying to humiliate me. I extended my tongue further until I found her clit. She grasped the hair on the back of my head tightly, pushing my face harder into her cunt, her legs opening as far as she could with her leggings hugging her thighs.

She began to moan as she ground on me, fucking my face. "Don't even think about touching your cock" she whispered huskily, "this is all about giving".

I obeyed her. I kept my arms by my side, letting her use me like a sex toy. My face was pressed so hard between her legs that it was difficult to breathe, but I let her continue. She gyrated her hips hard, my tongue rubbing over her clit again and again. Her breath became faster. This obviously wasn't going to take long, clearly she'd already been dripping wet from the thrill of dominating me and using me.

I could feel her coming close to a climax, her movements becoming faster, her moans becoming louder.

Finally with a muffled cry, her hand over her mouth, she came. I felt a warm gush on my lips as she ejaculated a wave of pussy fluid over my face, and I felt her pussy contracting over and over again near my tongue. She put both hands on the back of my head, pulling my hair so hard that it hurt. I felt some of the warm juices run down my chin. Her legs trembled with the intensity of the climax.