The Hotel Gym

It was almost 1am when I finished the presentation for tomorrow's meeting. I knew I should get to sleep, but after six hours of work, I really had to get out of this hotel room for a while.

The hotel gym sounded pretty good to me right now. I called the front desk to confirm that the gym was open all night, then I threw on some gym shorts, a t-shirt and sneakers, and too the elevator down to the basement.

It wasn't much of a gym: a couple of treadmills and two racks of free weights, but there was a decent-sized pool one room over. The whole area was deserted of course. I wondered whether, if my wife had made the trip, I'd be able to convince her to skinny-dip with me.

Yeah, I thought, laughing to myself, when pigs fly.

My first ten minutes on a treadmill are always warm-up. After that I crank up the speed and really hit my stride and, to be blunt about it, the sweat really begins to fly. Most gyms have rules against it, but since there was nobody around to be offended I threw off my shirt. A good run was definitely what I needed.

She walked in about twenty minutes into my run: about my age, still in great shape. Dark, shoulder-length hair. Not really small-breasted, but small enough and firm enough that she could exercise without wearing a bra under her tank top (and clearly she wasn't). Nylon running shorts, cut high, showing off a lot of leg.

Hey, I may be married, but I still notice these things.

She gave me a smile, and stepped on to the other treadmill. "I didn't expect anybody else to be here," she said, starting her run.

I suspected as much: she might not have needed a bra for support -- but she probably would have worn one for discretion if she knew she wasn't going to be alone, because the tank top kept shifting around as she ran. Not enough to show anything, but I decided she'd feel more comfortable if I kept my eyes straight ahead.

But was she sneaking peeks at

my

chest?

Nah... just wishful thinking and male ego.

"Do you always work out this late?" I asked her.

"No. My husband and I are in town visiting friends. We all had dinner together, then came back to the hotel bar for some drinks. In my husband's case, a

lot

of drinks. At 1, the bar closed, our friends went home, and my husband barely made it to our room before passing out. So I guess I'm running out of frustration."

I nodded my head.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "that was all a bit personal, wasn't it? Way too much information."

I laughed. "Don't worry about it. We're strangers on a treadmill."

"What happens in the hotel gym stays in the hotel gym?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"So how did you come to be here so late?"

"Business trip. I'm here to explain an environmental project to my company's home office. My wife wisely stayed home."

"So I guess it's just you and me," she said, with a grin to let me know she was just kidding around.

I smiled back. "I've had worse dates."

"Lately?" she asked, and we both laughed.

We spent the next ten minutes or so running and chatting about... I'm not really sure what we were chatting about. I do know that once the flirting began, even if neither of us was taking it seriously, I took frequent glances at her and enjoyed watching her breasts move beneath her tank top. Her legs were nice and firm, and her thin, nylon running shorts were hiking up far enough to make me wonder whether she was wearing panties at all under them. Possibly not: she'd expected to be working out alone tonight, after all.

Uh-oh... I could feel an erection forming, and she was glancing over at me as well. This could be seriously embarrassing. Think clean thoughts... environmental projects...

Even though I'd intended to run for another fifteen minutes, I hit the "cool down" button on the machine and the speed gradually slowed to a stop: every time I glanced over at her, it disrupted the rhythm of my run, and that's a great way to get hurt on a treadmill. "I'll be over there," I said, gesturing at the free weights.

She hit the cool down button on her own machine and said "I'll join you in a minute."

I was lying on one of the benches, having just finished my first set with the weights, when she knelt down next to me, brushed her hand across the top of my chest, just above my rib cage, and said "You worked up quite a sweat."

Time froze, and our eyes met. She smiled and nodded her head ever so slightly.

I brushed my hand over the same spot on her body, just over the scoop of her tank top. "You too," I said, with a bit of a catch in my voice.

It was an awkward moment, and then she stood up and said "I beg your pardon, sir: ladies don't sweat. They glow."

"My mistake. Sorry," I said. Now that she was standing right above me, I could tell that if she "glowed" any more than she already had, her top would be wet enough to see right through.

She grabbed a pair of ten-pound weights, and lay down on the other bench. "At home, I usually use the machines. Could you watch me and make sure my form is okay?"

"Your form looks pretty good to me," I said.

"Behave. I meant my weight-lifting form."

I stood by her feet and watched her lift. At one point I reminded her to keep her elbows tighter against her body, but mostly I was watching how the lifting was causing her small breasts to push out against the tank top. By her second set, I began to notice -- but didn't tell her -- that she'd begun separating her legs a bit with every lift, making the bottoms of her shorts hike up. It reached the point where only a thin strip was covering her pussy, and I could see not only that she wasn't wearing panties, but that her hair was trimmed.

She must have suddenly felt a breeze where she usually doesn't feel one, because she dropped the weights to the floor and quickly smoothed down her shorts. That wasn't supposed to happen," she said, blushing.

I grinned. "I didn't mind."

"You could have said someth-- oh," she said, pointing to my crotch. "I see you were too busy enjoying the view." I looked down to see my erect cock trying to poke its way out of my shorts. Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed.

"You need to cool off," she said, opening the door to the pool area. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks, and dove in.

I followed her a moment later, and I have to admit it was the most fun I'd had in a long time: we swam around, splashed, and dunked on another. I accidentally brushed my hand across her breasts a few times, and she accidentally pressed the palm of her hand against my cock.

When we'd finally had enough, we climbed out of the pool and, since there were no overhead lights in the pool area, we went back into the workout room. In the brighter light, I could see for the first time that the weight of the water had pulled down the front of her tank top enough to expose the top half of her breasts -- which hardly mattered, since the white cotton had become completely transparent. She might as well have been wearing cellophane.

Yes, I was staring.

She saw what I was looking at, and smiled. "I should have just taken this off before I jumped in, huh?" she said. She grabbed the shirt from the bottom. "Mind if I take it off now? It's not all that comfortable."

"Go right ahead," I said, probably too eagerly.

A few seconds later she was standing in front of me naked from the waist up and it was all I could do to keep from grabbing her. I noticed that her nylon shorts, which of course were never meant to be worn soaking wet without underwear, were clinging to her so tightly, I could actually make out the outlines of her pubic hair. I'd have been perfectly fine with her taking those off as well, but she had something else on her mind: "Those can't be comfortable either," she said, waving her hand at my shorts. I looked down and saw that I could have been wearing nothing but body paint for all they were concealing: they seemed to be molded to the shape of my cock. "Why don't you take them off?" she said.

"You sure?"

"Definitely."

I pulled off my shorts and the underwear beneath them, and stood before her naked, my erection pointing straight out at her. "Nice," she said.

I have to admit, I was a little embarrassed, so I sat down on one of the benches.

She walked over to me. "I want to fuck you so badly," she said.

I put out my hands and held her by her hips, to keep her from getting too close to me. "Me too, but I can't. I've never cheated before."

"It's okay," she said. "Neither have I. That's why I'm keeping these shorts on."

She removed my hands from her hips and climbed onto my lap, facing me. With her lovely breasts almost in my face, she began grinding her nylon-covered pussy into my bare cock. It felt amazing, and how I managed not to cum immediately, I don't know.

I grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to me as we almost-but-not-quite fucked. As we went at it, her shorts rode up as they had earlier, again covering only a thin strip of her pussy, and at times my hard cock pushed perilously close to slipping under the fabric and penetrating her, something I know we both wanted. At least once the head of my cock brushed against her public hair and got wet with her pussy juices, which made her cum loudly.

It would have taken so little effort for one of us to push the strip of material to one side and allow my cock to slide deep inside of her -- and given a few more seconds, I'm sure one of us would have.

I held her still to stop her from grinding into me. "Lie down on the floor," I said. She rose her eyebrows in confusion. "Just trust me."

She lay on the floor, on her back, and I went over to her and smoothed out her shorts so they covered what they were supposed to cover in a single, smooth layer. Then I positioned myself over her, placing my hard (and wet, with both my pre-cum and a few drops of her pussy juices) cock right over her nylon-covered pussy, and pushed in. I wasn't penetrating her, I told myself: my cock was just forcing her nylon shorts to penetrate her.

She gasped, as the head of my cock and the thin nylon entered her wet pussy.

I withdrew, and managed to sink a bit deeper inside her on my second try. She gabbed my ass and pulled me tighter against her, and that was enough to make her cum. Her shuddering made me cum as well, soaking her shorts with several streams of thick semen, more than I'd remembered cumming in years.

I rolled off her, and she pulled off her shorts. "I'd better rinse these off," she said, heading back to the pool. "It wouldn't do to go back to my room with my shorts soaked through with another man's cum."

As spent as I was, the sight of her naked was already starting to make my cock stir. "You stay like that," I told her, "and you're going to get fucked after all."

She walked back to me, pressed her naked body against mine, and kissed me -- our first kiss. "Don't tempt me," she said."Because I won't say no."

I couldn't stop watching her ass as she walked into the next room, and I didn't think I'd ever wanted a woman this badly in my entire life.