I've never been one of those really pretty girls who turn heads, but I learned at the age of sixteen that a sexy body can do so much more than a beautiful face--it can break necks.
The boys in my class hadn't given me the time of day when I was growing up, but I soon started noticing that male teachers and grown men were always watching me when they thought I wasn't looking. It made me very self conscious until it dawned on me that it was my body that drew their attention.
When I left home to start a Digital Media & Culture degree at Edinburgh University, I set about perfecting my body. I don't mean perfection based on the size-zero models of today. I have a Kelly Brook body. I have dark waist-length hair and dark brown eyes like her too. My face is nothing like hers, but men act a little crazy when I wear anything figure hugging.
Last summer it was so hot I put on a cut-off top and a pair of shorts to get some milk from the local Co-operative. As I got out of the house an older man driving a silver Toyota Avensis stopped so suddenly when he saw me, the car behind ran into the back of him. He was carted off to the hospital when the ambulance arrived, wearing a neck brace. He didn't break his neck, but he got severe whiplash.
Yes, a sexy body can be a dangerous thing.
I've been going to the gym four days a week religiously for the last eight years and it's kept me fit. It's also a great place to pick up men. While most women go to the gym to do yoga, Pilates or attend exercise classes, I use free-weights and hang out with the guys.
Fridays are usually quiet at Healthy Bodies, Healthy Minds, the exclusive gym I joined two years ago when my local closed for refurbishment. I stayed because I enjoyed the more intimate atmosphere and the chance, occasionally, to become more intimate with a fellow gym user.
Tonight the place was deserted, except for Cameron Dewhurst. An inch shy of six foot, he was blond and absolutely gorgeous. He came to the gym on the same four evenings as I did and played squash on the other three. He was sleekly muscled, his blue eyes looked almost violet, their colour deepened by his darker eyebrows and lashes.
"Where's everyone?" I asked him, as I pulled the pin out of the 40 kg slot of the leg curl machine and slipped it into the 15 kg slot. I wanted to tone, not bulk up, so I used small weights and did lots of repetitions.
"England's playing Argentina tonight," he replied, without breaking the rhythm of his pull ups.
He didn't have to say anything further. Even I, the dumbest person when it came to football, knew of the bitter rivalry between the countries that had been sparked by Maradona's 'Hand of God' goal in the 1986 FIFA World Cup.
"How come you aren't at home watching it?" I asked in surprise.
"My dad's taping it for me. I wanted to be here...watching you instead."
Huh?
For months he'd behaved as if he didn't know that I'm alive and now he was hitting on me! Surely I hadn't heard him correctly!
"Pardon?" I queried, my heart beating faster as I waited for him to confirm that my ears were still in working order and that I had not been having one of my usual day dreams about him.
"The guys are always crowding around you, Holly. I never get a chance to talk to you."
I'd assumed that I was not pretty enough for him, or that maybe he didn't believe in interracial relationships. I looked mixed-race although my mother is half-English and half-Jamaican, and my father is Greek. Dad has some money and though he is no Onassis, he looks more like him than any Greek god. I inherited my body from his side of the family, while my beautiful, slim, elegant mother gave her good looks to my tall, broad-shouldered brother Alexander.
"Do you want me to spot you?" I offered.
Cameron was bench-pressing 50 kilos, unlike some of the other guys he worked out to keep fit, not to bulk up. Though I only used smaller weights I was easily strong enough to lift the bar.
"Sure," he agreed and I stood at his head and handed him the weights.
I counted his repetitions and as soon as I took the weights and placed them safely on the rack he ran his hand up my thigh. I spread my legs, indicating my willingness. He touched me and found that I had soaked through my exercise shorts in the short time between him telling me that he had come to watch me and him finishing his bench presses. He slipped a finger under the material and exhaled raggedly as he ran it over my slippery lips.
"Let's go to the locker room."
We made it there in record time, so fast we probably broke Usain Bolt's world record. Cameron closed the door and pushed me against it, kissing me hungrily as he slipped his hand under my Lycra top and unsnapped my bra with one deft motion. His lips left mine to cover my left nipple as he exposed my breasts simultaneously and pushed them upwards.
Raw desire pooled inside me as he grazed my nipple with his teeth before pulling it deep into his mouth and sucking on it. I bent and muffled my moans against his glistening shoulder. His clean, fresh perspiration was that of a man in peak physical condition, who ate and slept well. I lapped it up. It was like an aphrodisiac, increasing my desire for him.
He ripped off my bottoms and buried his face in my wet heat. I was so thankful that I had gone for a wax only the day before as he started eating me as though he had missed several square meals.
I stroked his fair hair lovingly as he spread my pussy lips and thrust his stiff tongue deep inside me, all the time rubbing my clit deliciously with his thumb. It was all lovely, but I couldn't wait. "Baby, if you don't give me some cock in the next minute or so, I swear I'll die!"
Laughing out loud, he straightened and I reached into his sweats eagerly, grabbed his cock and pulled it out into the open. It was such a beauty I forgot my hunger for a moment and just stared at it, admiring its slight left curve and mushroom head.
"How could you hide such a lovely cock?" I demanded, looking up at him indignantly. "You should let it hang out of your fly so the whole world could admire it."
It was truly a thing of beauty. Eight and a quarter inches or thereabouts of uncut masculinity. Thick enough for me to show it due respect, but not so thick it would leave me walking around wounded for days afterwards.
He sat down on the narrow padded bench and I made to climb onto his lap.
"No, back onto me. I want to feel your ass against me."
Turning around, I tilted my hips and straddled him, placing him at my entrance and slowly lowering myself onto him. He took the weight of my breasts in his hands and tweaked my nipples as I sank slowly onto him.
His groans matched my moans as I worked myself fully onto his length--I realized then that I might have slightly underestimated his length and girth. As I relaxed and softened around him, he lifted me by my waist and bounced me up and down firmly.
I knew that Horace, the elderly owner of the exclusive gym was watching us, but I didn't care. I had stopped paying my monthly membership fee three months after joining the gym when I'd walked into his office and knew immediately that he must have cameras in the locker rooms and had witnessed me and Wayne, a sexy, professional bodybuilder getting busy earlier.
He was married to a woman half his age, but I suspected that he got off watching guys' cocks. I never let on to the guys that he watched their every move.
I also never paid another monthly subscription.
"I'm going to come, baby." Cameron tipped me forward onto the bench and tilted my ass up. I braced myself for disappointment thinking,
the bastard's going to come before I do!
, but I realized a moment later that he was simply taking control as he quickened his already fast tempo.
I also realized that my ample ass had been previously hindering his full penetration. He brought both hands up and tweaked my nipples firmly as he withdrew almost to the tip and then quickly buried himself to the hilt inside me. I exploded in less than a dozen strokes and he followed soon afterwards.
***
"I promised to stop at my dad's for the DVD of the match."
"No problem," I assured him, biting my lower lip as he fingered my clit as we drove along a particularly quiet stretch of road.
We were on our way to his house where he promised to punish me for letting some of the other guys fuck me when he had wanted me himself but had been too shy to make his move.
He had eaten my pussy again while we had a quick shower in one of the cubicles at the gym, but just when I was about to come he had stopped and said that the punishment had already started. I had almost screamed.
When we got to his car, a matt black BMW, he had casually reached under my skirt and fingered me for a minute or two and then started the engine, leaving me on the verge of coming once again.
He had just stopped at an amber signal that he could have easily gone through at a busy intersection and slipped two fingers inside me. He finger fucked me while we waited for the lights to change.
Then just as casually as before he'd pulled his fingers free, he put his hand on the gear lever and drove on.
Of course, I could have fingered myself to an orgasm if I wanted to. But I didn't. I was enjoying the punishment as much as he was.
The man who opened the door of the detached house looked so much like Cameron I almost did a double take. He hadn't mentioned brothers, but surely this man could not be--
"Holly, this is my father Adam," Cameron said, as he ushered me forward to make the introduction. "Dad, this is my girlfriend Holly."
Girlfriend?
One session of great sex in the gym and I was a girlfriend?
Wow!
"Nice to meet you, Holly." The way Adam squeezed my hand and leered openly at me I began to think that the two of them shared women--not that I would have a serious problem being sandwiched between the two of them. "Come inside."
"We're not stopping, Dad," Cameron said hastily. "I've only come to collect the DVD. I'm taking Holly home for dinner."
"I'm sure Sophia will rustle up something for you. I want to know more about this lovely young woman. Come in for a drink."
Adam introduced Sophia, a slim Indian woman and not a day over nineteen, to me. He fondled her backside as she bent over to place the dishes on the table in front of us and I was surprised she didn't drop the platter of Dijon Chicken or the salad bowl.
After the meal I began to feel really annoyed with Cameron when he let Adam convince him to stay and watch the game on catch-up TV although he had already made the recording on the DVD.
Cameron virtually ignored me as he got engrossed in the match.
Adam, in the meanwhile was watching me, his eyes seeming to strip the material of my T-shirt away and zoom in on my erect nipples which had hardly subsided since Cameron had been tweaking them between his finger tips
