kalynwic

That's a Work Out

"You look as if you're enjoying yourself," says a drawling baritone just out of site.

My breathing falters, "I am," I say. I continue pushing the leg machine determined to finish out the set. A pair of long fingers feather over my shoulders. I quiver with pleasure. Before I know it you are on me, swinging your leg over the bench so that you straddle my belly. I immediately let the weights fall to their rack.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You grin so brilliantly you make my pulse race. You are aggressive, confident. With a considerable portion of your weight resting on my hipbones, I can feel the soft crush of your balls flattening across my pubis. You lean forward and brace your hands above my head. "I'm just giving you a little extra resistance, baby."

"Don't call me that." I push at your chest but you do not budge. "I want you off me." You bend lower and nuzzle my sweaty collar bone. "Mmmm, your pulse is racing but I don't think you're afraid of me. No, I think you want me as much as I want you. You're just too proud to admit it. I don't mind, I like a challenge.'

I am about to tell you again to get off me when I notice the ridge behind the fly of your jeans. I shouldn't be looking. My mouth goes dry at the thickness of the bulge, at the way it pulses beneath the faded cloth. You brush your thumbs across my nipples. From the twang that goes through me I know they are hard. "I'm not interested."

Your gaze moves from my breasts to my eyes. You smile, "I will not make that mistake, I'm not listening to what your mouth says, I'm going to listen to your body." You catch my nipples between your fingers and pluck them outward. A strangled sound escapes my throat. "Wow baby, was that a whimper?"

Your teasing pushes my temper and I heave my hips hard and dump you on the floor. You hit the mat with a curse. I should quit while I'm ahead but I can't resist following you down to the ground. All too easily you twist free of my attempt to pin you and instead trap my wrists.

"Fuck."

"My pleasure," you respond and swoop down for a kiss.

Your mouth is so sweet. "No," I say, tearing away but my legs are parting for your hips.

Your breath comes faster. You push your pelvis to mine and I push back. "That's it baby, work with me," you say in a softer voice.

We writher together rolling back and forth between the weight machines. Our kisses are noisy, more greedy than style. I clutch your back and then your ass. My shorts are thin and I am wearing nothing beneath them. The shape of you brands me through denim and lycra. You rock me hard, your erection hits my sweetest spot dead on. You know what you are doing to me. You watch my eyes as I climb in ecstasy. I'm holding off not wanting to give in wanting to force you to climax before me. I kick off my shoes so that I can caress your calves with my feet. Your eyes narrow. I crane forward and nuzzle your button shirt. I find your sharpened nipple on the second try.

"Oh God," you moan. I smile knowing now that this is something you especially like. Your hold on my wrists slacken. I pull them free and wrench your shirt open. Buttons fly. "Ah," you sigh as I latch on to the tiny bud. I run both hands around the curve of your ass and squeeze your balls. Your cock jumps in its denim trap. I dig it into me, work it over me, putting your strength into each jerk.

In spite of the vigorous treatment I come before you do: twice. I never knew a man could last this long. I lay under you limp and drenched with sweat. You are shaking. Your pulse beats visibly in your throat. You sit back on your heels as if unsure of your muscles ability to hold you. When you rub your hands down your thighs you leave streaks of sweat on the worn blue cloth.

"Touch me," you say, your thumbs stroke either side of your distended fly. "I can't come unless you touch me."