You don't see many females in the weight room. It's pretty understandable too. If you break down all the sexism in our society, all the stereotypes, all the shit Nike and nutrition stores feed us about our bodies having special needs, it's easy to see why. Don't get me wrong; I'm not some crazy "Femi Nazi." I understand that it's all about marketing and getting a select few a little richer and not the inferiority of either gender.
But I don't go around with a chip on my shoulder. Don't think that about me. If anything, I embrace it. I love getting paid to watch men push and strain and grunt and come to the threshold of physical exertion. It's quite a turn on to see a man sweating and straining because of some inanimate object. Another added bonus is all that extra testosterone their bodies produce...It makes them want to do something manly, and what's more manly than having the undivided attention of the only female in the room?
I started this job to make a few extra bucks to get me through college. Some people would just look at my parents and assume I'm a spoiled brat, but I've had to work for everything I have. I don't get a stipend for any expenses, and I'm not some genius here on scholarship. And beer, even the cheapest kinds, isn't free.
It's turned out to be pretty interesting. I'm pretty big on people watching, so I get paid for it now. I get to sit here and stare at these sexy men that come to work out, and they can't say anything because it's my job. Sometimes I get so turned on at work that I go out to my car, drive off to this little secluded park, and work my own pussy with my fingers. But that's another story.
The only reason I interact with patrons is to be a spot. You'd be surprised how many men get offended by a girl trying to flirt with them by offering to spot. But when they finally give in, they learn that if I stand just the right way, they can see right up my skirt. There's a great view of my bare, shaved pussy. But that's only if they're willing to suck it up and admit to needing a spot.
I was so surprised when my philosophy professor walked over to me one day while I was cleaning the cardio machines to ask for a spot. I was in a super short denim skirt and a wife beater. I wasn't wearing a bra or panties because I had to rush to get ready for work. I just rolled out of bed and pulled on a skirt. Since I was bent over quite a bit, I knew he had to see the tops of my thighs meeting my firm ass. I wondered if he saw anything else. I could feel my pussy just dripping and my nipples ribbing against my one-size-too-small beater as I followed him to a bench.
He made some small talk about a whole lot of nothing. I remember he asked how my classes are going and if I'd decided how I was going to waste my potential as a weight room attendant. I filled in the silences with awkward laughs or biting my lip. As I looked around the room for something to mention, I realized we were alone. Suddenly, the guilt of exposing myself to one of my professors melted away. Nobody else would know, and I'd always had a bit of a crush on him anyway. Besides, what middle aged man complains about an 18 year-old pussy less than a foot from his face?
As he lay back on the bench, I told him to go ahead and scoot back more. When he gave me a funny look, I reassured him, all I do is sit around and read Men's Health all day, so I know what I'm talking about. I didn't mention that I also knew the perfect way to stand to give him an amazing view if he was a little further back.
He reached up for the bar, and I still stood back a little with my hands neatly behind my back. He lifted the bar up, and completed almost 10 reps effortlessly. Then, his movements weren't so fluid, and I could see the effort he was putting forth by the strain on his face. I wondered to myself if that's the face he made when he was cumming.
I stepped forward and placed my hands on the bottom of the bar. They were so small compared to his, and my French manicure seemed so out of place. I shuffled my feet forward a little and spread my legs a little more. My skirt was stiff enough so that it was a few inches in front of me. If he didn't open his eyes after this last rep, I was just going to sit on his face.
The steel of the bar clanked as it rested against the top notch. I was prepared to rub my pussy all over his face by then. Instead, his eyes flashed open for a second. I stepped back to give him a second to relax before he started another set, and maybe question what he'd just seen.
I started swaying my hips to the music coming over the radio. I think he noticed because I felt like he was looking at me in the mirror, but I pretended not to notice. My eyes closed as I slid my hands down in my pockets. I continued to sway my hips, and soon my skirt was well below the bottom of my tummy. Leaving my skirt where it was, I raised my arms and turned my back to him as I continued dancing. This brought my beater above my pierced belly button.
When I turned back around, I expected him to be starting another set, but he was standing right in front of me. His hands reached behind me and slid up the back of my thigh. This sent shivers through my body and he almost had to hold me up when his fingers moved to the inside of my thigh, damp with the result of teasing him. A timid moan escaped my mouth. He quickly cut it off by pressing his lips against mine.
A couple seconds later, I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it or not because he was back on the bench, but I definitely felt my skirt was raised in the back, showing off my tan ass. And I definitely felt my pussy was wet enough for the biggest of cocks.
