Sometimes things just happen, and happen in ways and places we never expect.
It all started when I finally decided to switch gyms from the overpriced sweat locker I had been going too forever. One of my friends told about this nice quiet gym on the edge of town, open 24/7, with lots of machines and very few stupid assholes who don't take a hint.
They even have a section for martial arts in one end, so I could practice my Kempo if the mood strikes me. They even allow sparring provided you let the gym supervisors know beforehand. Best of all cute guys that you would actually like to meet come to this gym.
One in particular stands out, He is tall, lean and muscular. He is a few years older than you, but he can't be more than 25. His name is Greg or something like that, you've heard it called a few times across the gym. With dark hair he is quiet and serious looking with a calm smile that gently exudes confidence in whatever he is doing.
On the occasions you cross paths headed for the same machine he always nod slightly and lets you go first. He seems like a regular fixture at the gym and almost every time you go he is there. Always the same routine for him running for an hour, then weights showing surprising strength from his lighter frame. His rash-guard doing nothing to hide the fact that he is pure muscle, with his cut shoulders and arms doing more than some of the much larger regulars.
What stands him out however besides whatever is hiding in his slightly loose fight shorts. Most of his workout is spent on the blue mats on the far end of the gym just besides the treadmills. Practicing strange exercises you had never seen before. It's clearly some kind of martial art, some portions even remind you of Kempo.
The exercises are alien to you and you can't place what martial are he is trained in. The fluid movements are tantalizing, graceful and clearly designed to work all parts of the body at once. You often find on the treadmills so you can get a view of him. Even after you leave the gym you find your thoughts wandering back to his lean chiseled body and his exotic martial art.
You almost missed a step and went sprawling out on the treadmill that time he was balanced upside down on his shoulders and his shirt fell down, giving you a great view and proving that what is beneath the rash-guard isn't a facade.
After at least an hour of his fluid exercises he switches to a second set of movements, this on much more clear in its intent. Swift punch and kick forms similar to kickboxing, the forms show amazing balance, it's so flowing it almost looks like lethal kind of dance the way he moves. He never utters a sound, his breathing steady and his calm expression never dissipating.
You know he takes note of you watching him from the treadmills, he will pause for a moment while he takes in that he is being watched. When hes returns to his routine he has a slight redness behind his ears.
Over time you find yourself looking for him in the gym and as he trains, you find yourself wondering what else those strong legs might be good for. Wondering what hides inside those shorts, biting back how much you want to sink your teeth into that lean body. Shortly after warmth starts spreading between your legs and you enjoy feeling how your panties rub against your clit as you jog.
Staring intently it was almost as if you could glimpse something sizable in his shorts. Thank god you wore black today, no one will notice the wet spot. Before long you find yourself working yourself up on how to talk to him. It's not unusual for you to be shy but something about him flustered you.
Tonight however was different, you don't know what came over you but you came dressed to kill. Tight shorts instead of your regular gym pants, tight tank top, light bra and no panties. Everyone in the gym takes notices and while half the time you catch a couple people checking you out, today it would be hard to find someone who wasn't openly doing so. You even caught Greg catching a glimpse, you stuck your tongue out at him. Knowing he was busted, you were rewarded when he gave you an apologetic smile and an uncharacteristic wink. Anxious and eager to keep going farther you press him for more and approach the edge of the crash mats.
"What style is that? I'm a Kempo black belt but I've never seen movements like yours? I see you do it all the time but I don't know what you practice." You inquire half curious, half using it as an excuse to talk to him.
Shrugging his shoulders, the rolling muscles distracting you from fully paying attention to the answer "Well the ground work is Russian Sambo, the strikes are mostly from Savate. Of course I've picked up few other tricks here and there."
"Do you think you could teach me some? I'd love to learn some ground work. In reality you just want to get up close and personal with guy that has been inadvertently teasing you the past month. "Kempo does a lot of stand-up but not a lot of ground work." Pleased at how well you made it sound innocent and hoping to god he says yes.
"I'd love too But I will need to see what your skills are, why don't we start with something easy. No strikes, just try to knock me down anyway you can."
"Okay" you replied thinking this will be cake, he can't weigh more than 160 pounds and you know some good take-downs from Kempo. Leaning against him and putting as much force as you can into the strong form. It felt like pushing against a brick wall, every time you moved he would adjust ever so slightly. Take-downs were equally useless, he would just shift his weight keep you from upsetting his center of balance.
Frustration at you own ineffectiveness made you sloppy and before you could react, he snaked both arms under your own suddenly and pulled you to him. Chests pressed together, your breasts against his hard body. Your nipples hardened as you felt his shorts brush against yours.
"I've got under-hooks" he smiled pleased with himself "My arms locked and I'm stronger, you won't be able to get me to off balance now."
Feeling his weight pressing against you, you suddenly let yourself fall backwards pull him down with you. His face landed neatly in your crotch, stunned at his sudden intimate proximity to you. He didn't react or move at all, so you flip over on top of his back and claim your victory by sitting on his chest.
