Summary:
I spot a hot older butch at the gym, and when she hits the showers, I can't help but follow.
Notes:
Content warnings: age gap (early 50s to late 20s), marijuana reference but no consumption, public sex, shower sex, almost getting caught, oral sex, fingering, Sir kink, language like kid, boy, slut
Features a transmasc LESBIAN who is microdosing on testosterone. If you don't like it I don't give a fuck
--
I hate the gym. Always have. Full of dudebros getting swole and women in the locker room giving me confused looks (at best) and dirty looks (at worst).
But my ex took her free-weights with her, and a gym membership is cheaper than a new set of weights. Plus, I have to find some way to meet this testosterone-driven need to work out every day. I've been microdosing for six months and I'm happy with the results: I've been gaining muscle and hair, and the bottom growth hasn't been bad either. My favorite part, by far, is the way my voice is getting deeper.
It's late on a Tuesday night and the gym is close to empty. The fluorescent lights are harsh and cold, and the air conditioner hums over the sound of gym bros grunting by the weight machines. Two women in yoga pants speed walk on the treadmills, where the TV news is announcing severe weather predictions. It smells like sweat and cleaning products. I'm doing bicep curls and checking my form in the wide mirror when I spot her.
She's an older butch dyke with a fresh fade in her salt-and-pepper hair. She's wearing a black cutoff and red basketball shorts, her body thick and strong, and she's walking over to the leg press. I almost drop my 25 pound weights when I see her.
I compose myself and finish my curl, enjoying the hot burn of my muscles straining against the weight. I complete my set and rerack, taking a long swig of water. I steal a glance at the leg press and spot the butch with an impressive weight. Done with my biceps, I decide to wander over to the rowing machine that is coincidentally located near the leg press.
I rack my weights--75 pounds--and pull my elbows back, keeping a tight form and steady breathing as I row. I can spy the silver fox in the mirror from my vantage point, and I steal subtle glances every few reps. At least, I hope they're subtle.
I'm breathing hard and my heart is thudding in my chest, and it's mostly from rowing but not entirely. Older butches get me hot, okay?
I take a breather and the silver fox finishes her leg presses, checking her watch and putting a finger up to her neck. I try not to stare, try to pull my gaze away. I finally do, but watch her out of the corner of my eye as she walks over to the bench press. Now's my chance.
I hop up and take a deep breath, marching over to the bench press as she gets settled.
"Can I offer you a spot?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager.
She glances up at me, a small smile dawning on her handsome face. Her eyes are brown.
"Sure, kid. Thanks."
'Kid' hits me in all the right places. I should probably feel demeaned by it, but she can call me anything she wants and I'll still feel this way: skin tingling, heart pounding, stomach tight.
I swallow and smile back.
She racks 200 pounds and my eyes widen a little, impressed. I bench 120 on a good day. Then again, she's visibly bigger than me, which I try not to spend too much time thinking about. Or, fantasizing about...
She lays back on the bench and I position myself as her spot, ready to grab the weight if she needs it. She doesn't, of course. She's slow, grunting and exhaling under the strain, but she holds steady and does a dozen reps before smoothly reracking. Her sounds light a fire inside me that I try to tamper down.
"Thanks, kid." There it is again. "Want me to return the favor?" You can return so many favors for me.
"Um, yeah. Thanks."
Cheeks burning, I remove 50 pounds from each side of the barbell self-consciously. I add 10 pounds to each side so I'm benching 120, my max. I pray I make it to a dozen reps too. Here's hoping.
I lie back on the bench with my legs wide, focusing on my reps and not getting distracted by inappropriate thoughts, no Sir, certainly not thinking about calling her Sir while I lie back and she spreads my legs, nope.
I take the cold metal bar in my hands and lift the weight above my head, trying so hard not to look at her. I'm solid through the first six reps, beginning to tremble a little on the seventh and eighth. I push myself through the ninth, and barely complete the tenth. I shakily rerack, and she helps me.
I exhale loudly, letting my arms flop down and relax. They're burning in that delicious, painful, addictive way. My blood races with adrenaline and I want so badly to ask for her name, her number, anything--when she says:
"Well, I'm gonna hit the showers. Nice to meet you, kid."
I barely have time to stammer, "Nice to meet you, too," before she's turned on her heel and walking away.
Fuck.
My heart pounds so hard I can see throbbing at the edges of my vision. I take a long drink of ice water from my water bottle and shift on my feet, debating what to do. I should probably spray the bench down with cleaner, but fuck it.
I follow her down the stairs, maybe a minute behind her. This particular gym is huge, and there are rows and rows of lockers and a large, communal shower in the back with some private shower stalls too.
I walk down the rows of lockers to reach mine, looking for my towel.
There's no mistaking the silver fox when I walk past her section of lockers. She's shirtless and in a sports bra. My heart hammers but I keep my pace, walking past her to my locker in the back. I plug in my combination in the lock: 4-2-0. What can I say? I'm a simple guy.
I snatch my towel from my duffel bag and start stripping for my shower, hoping she opts for the communal shower and not the private stalls.
I've pulled my t-shirt over my head when my locker door closes behind me, and the hot butch herself is standing in front of me, hand on my locker, leaning into me.
"Following me, kid?" she asks, looking me up and down with a threatening, predatory gaze. I suddenly feel very naked in my Nike sports bra and Under Armour shorts.
"N-no," I stammer, blood rushing in my ears so loud it's hard to think. "I was just--just taking a shower." I can feel my cheeks burning red again, like they did when I could only bench half as much as her.
"Sure you were, kid."
Her gaze has turned lustful, but no less predatory. She licks her lips while she gazes at my body, bringing her other hand to rest against the lockers, pinning me there between her arms.
"I saw you checking me out upstairs. Don't lie. You weren't done working out. You were just eager to follow an old butch to the showers. Isn't that right?"
I could be swallowed by a dark hole in the middle of the floor right now and be at peace with my death. I'm so embarrassed.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I can go--"
She tsks and shakes her head.
"Now, now. I didn't say that... We can still take a shower together, butch to butch. If you can be... quiet?"
Oh God.
I swallow a whimper, and nod slowly. Finally, I find my words and speak.
"Y-yes. I can."
I don't know which has me more on cloud nine: that she just offered to take a shower with me, or the fact that she clocked me as butch.
"Good."
She leans back, tossing my towel in my face and sauntering away.
I scramble to get undressed, walking to the showers in my bare feet with my towel wrapped around my chest.
She's in the communal shower, naked, standing under a stream of water and shampooing her hair.
I stop and stare. Her body is lithe and strong, wrinkled and sagging in some places, and sexy as hell. She closes her eyes, letting the water wash over her hair as she rinses out the suds. When she finally opens her eyes, I'm still gawking.
"Well?" she says. "What are you staring at? I have to wash up first, don't I?"
She reaches for a pump of the combination shampoo-and-body-wash and begins to rub it over her belly and chest, reaching for her armpits, her forearms. I realize I'm staring again, and I pull myself out of it and drop my towel on the floor. I walk over to the showerhead next to her, turning it on warm and letting the water rinse over my sweaty, sticky body. My eyes flutter closed from the pleasure of the warm water.
She's done washing herself by the time I open my eyes. I reach for the body wash and she puts her hand on mine.
"I got it," she murmurs. She takes a pump in her hands, rubbing them together, and reaches for my shoulders, rubbing the lather down my back. She reaches down farther and grabs my ass firmly.
"You have a perfect body, kid," she says in my ear. I want to whimper.
"My name is--"
"Don't tell me your name," she interrupts quickly. "It's hotter that way."
Warmth floods through my body, pooling in my core. She's right. It is hotter that way.
"Fuck," I mutter to myself. I consider, then ask: "What should I call you?"
"What do you want to call me?"
"...Sir."
A low chuckle. Then she growls. "I like that."
She squeezes my ass again, sliding her hands up my sides and bringing them to my chest, ostensibly to clean my tits but really to play with them and draw small moans from my mouth.
"You like being called good boy, or good girl?" she asks me, her soapy hands trailing down my stomach to my hips.
"Boy," I answer, barely able to breathe.
"That's a good butch," she says with a smile, and somehow 'good butch' is better than either option.
She takes another handful of body wash and rubs up and down my legs, paying special attention to my thighs and ass. Lastly, she guides my head under the stream of water and washes my hair for me, an act so intimate I've never actually done it with anyone else. I feel tense and try to relax into her touch.
She massages circles into my tight neck, making an "Oh" fall from my lips.
"Yeah?" she says. She digs in harder, pulling more sounds from my mouth.
