"The last ten seconds!" I shout above the throbbing bass and the whir of flywheels. Bodies slick with perspiration in the hot, sticky humidity of the intimate studio. Lactic acid burns in our legs as we gasp for air and taste the exhaustion in our throats.
I watch the seconds descend, sensing others counting down in desperation wishing this grueling punishment would come to an end. But as we reach the line, through a wicked smile, I push for more.
"And another ten! Out of your seats and half a turn on the resistance," I bellow to collective groans and grimaces. The class follow and rise from their seats, legs spinning as fast as they can. And for those final seconds I feast on the bouncing cleavage, sculpted further by body hugging, tight gym lycra. Hair scraped back in ponytails of varying lengths swishing violently back and forth as we collectively push towards the line.
Who'd want a desk job when this was your office!
After a warm down of smiles and stretches, the class begin to drift from the studio towards the refreshment of the showers. Exhausted but smiling, knowing full well they'll be back next week.
Returning the cycles to the storeroom I wish everyone goodnight.
All bar one, that is.
With the clunk of a cycle I turn to find you leaning against the storeroom door, white towel draped around your neck. My eyes dance over you and the curl of my smile grows. Slick perspiration claims your glowing skin. Your lycra top accentuates the curves of your breasts. Short enough to expose your waist before lycra three-quarter length bottoms that show-off your toned legs and cute behind. These sportswear designers sure had a lot to answer for!
"Good?" I ask with a warm smile.
"Always, although that last 10 was a bit naughty," you purr. I smile back at your choice of deliberate words.
"You're going to ache in the morning," I tease playfully.
"I ache already," you answer, your intense eyes holding my gaze as you step into the enclosed storeroom. Your palm rests upon my chest as your mouth falls alongside my ear, the door clicking shut behind us.
"I ache for you," you purr softly into my ear. Your hand complimenting your words as you press your palm into my groin. A smile escapes your lips as you feel me through my gym shorts, blood engulfing and making me swell under your spell.
My hand slips around your waist pulling you closer as I feel the heat of your breath against my skin.
"I can't wait till we have the showers to ourselves," you whisper between soft lips lightly kissing my neck, nibbling and nuzzling, as you rub you hand against my shorts.
Fond memories of last weeks steamy encounter, where, under the heat of crashing water, hands and lips had explored every inch of one another in our private session.
I groan softly. Your seduction unexpected as hidden in the studio storeroom we indulge in fantasy. My hand guides your mouth to mine. Hot lips melt willingly as tongues eagerly seek their mate, stifling the soft mewls of our kiss.
Your skin slick to the touch as desires take hold. I lift you to the stack of floor mats, perching you on the edge as my lips slip from yours. Removing your trainers, my hands pull at your lycra bottoms. You giggle, lifting your cute bottom, your hands helping as I pull them and your panties from your legs, discarding them across the floor.
The sight of you fueling my growing arousal as I eagerly bury my head between your thighs. I feel you wrap your legs around me as your scent intoxicates, my lips kissing you and soon parting for my skilled tongue to claim you. You moan, softly as first but soon intensifying with each hungry lap of my tongue as I gorge in your delicious sex. Your desire coats my lips as you lean back on your arms, tilting your head back to the pleasure of my mouth.
Teasing my tongue from your wetness to your swollen clit leaves you breathless. Expletives join the panted gasps that fill the storeroom, your hips bucking against my mouth.
