free website hit counter

Short skirts, french knickers

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Step to it

A recent romp involved a gym instructor. Very clichéd, I know. Everybody hates gym talk as it is and but now I’m also doing my rounds there. It’s reestablished trashiness onto KL grounds, surely.

It all started innocently enough (it always does, you know). He seemed to take quite a liking to me and showed much more interest in my stepping than I thought would be possible while you’re trying to teach a class. A surprising amount of eye contact can me made through a mirror. How flattering – at least I was getting to be top performer up there on the front line.

Perhaps it was all those endorphins and adrenaline from jumping around possessed, but a few classes down the line, he started to look a lot hotter than I’d remembered. A real hard-body of a boy and just the right height for our crotches to fit when we stood face to face. But I’m well accustomed to the flash-in-the-pan crushes I develop over night and then forget just as quickly. After class, it would be into the showers and he’d be well forgotten about by the time I was dressed.

Then I decided to stay back one day and while forcing myself through 100 sit-ups, I suddenly see him standing behind me. He looks hotter upside down, his crotch just right there above my face. He sits on the ball next to mine and talks about the weather until the endorphins or whatever other chemicals drive me crazy from wanting him to fuck me.

“Ok, I give up. Wanna go for coffee? You can tell me about the haze then.”

“Aiyoo. Finish your workout first lah,” grinning, like he really didn’t care about the shit state of my abdominals.

“Don’t worry. Can work out more later,” I grinned back, but he didn’t hear.

I went off to shower and met him back downstairs 20 minutes later, where he was talking to one of the bored looking receptionists about Fear Factor.

We didn’t bother with coffee in the end, although I did attempt to with the half-hearted promise of an expresso machine back in my apartment.

“You’re cute, you know,” he said almost nervously in the lift on the way up, as he slid his hand down the small of my back.

Once the flat door shut behind us, the instructor in him leapt out again, leading me straight to the couch amidst the fumbled undoing of a belt buckle and firm kisses on the neck.

“Very cute,” he repeated as I sat back against the sofa and kneeling in front me, leaned heavily forward for breathless kisses. He was systematic but commandingly so and desperately sexy. One. Two. Three. Four… Everything was taken off except my g-string, my legs spread apart, his tongue teasing slow through the tight material, and sucking the tip of my clit.

I clawed off the panties, begging for him to lick me directly and when he did, everything exploded, I came immediately, screaming, sweating, hard.

“You’re never this energetic in class,” he teased, stroking my nipples as he slid a hard cock in and bent my legs out and back (don’t underestimate how much instructors know about what to do with your bodies). He was in, slowly at first and pulsing firmly, and then hard and fast until our thighs slapped against each other. He pulled me up, got me on all fours and then fucked me from behind, this time slow again and groaning everytime he pushed himself in. Reaching forward, he played with my clit, still swollen, while fucking from behind, until I came again, still moaning loud and shuddering.

Then I told him to take it easy – he’d been working out all day, after all – before squatting astride him, facing him and riding his stiff cock slow and right until his eyes closed, his fingers dug down around my hips and I felt the pulsations of him coming inside me.

We sat naked for half an hour, his fingers circling my breasts while he told me about how much he used to hate the gym. I told him to stop bothering at all, sex could be as good a workout, which got him hard again. We fucked again before I got down to returning the earlier favour by licking his balls and making him come with my fingers, his cum spilling over my palm.

I haven’t been for step since, but he’s been round to the apartment quite a lot so I guess I’m still getting my aerobic exercise.


  • a gd initiative leads to great wonders eh sweetie... need another instructor? lol

    By Blogger chef4u2play, at 3:16 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home