Sweat Equity

The hotel gym smelled of disinfectant and ozone, the air-conditioning cranked so high my nipples were already hard under the thin cotton of my tank top. I was supposed to be doing cardio, but I’d been watching the guy on the leg press for the last ten minutes, the way his thighs bulged against the seams of his shorts, the sweat darkening the back of his grey t-shirt.

His name was Marcus, my trainer back home, and when our company sent us both to this conference in Vegas, he’d joked about "mandatory fitness sessions." I’d laughed, but my stomach had done a flip.

“You’re just gonna stare, or you gonna actually work?” he called, not even looking up from his set.

“I’m building up the motivation,” I shot back, stepping onto the treadmill.

He finished his reps, stood, and walked over. He smelled like salt and clean soap, and his face was flushed. “Motivation, huh?” His eyes dropped to my chest, and he didn't bother to hide it. “Looks like it’s already working.”

The air between us got thick. I stepped off the treadmill, my heart hammering. “Maybe I need a more hands-on approach.”

He didn’t say a word. He just took a step closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand came up, fingers brushing the strap of my tank top. “You’re tense. Let’s fix that.”

He guided me to the mats, his hands finding my shoulders, digging into the tight muscle. I let out a breath as he worked, his thumbs tracing circles down my spine. I could feel his cock, hard and thick, pressing against my ass through his shorts. I pushed back, grinding into him.

“Fuck, Sarah,” he groaned, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re gonna make me lose my professional edge.”

“Who needs professional?” I whispered, turning in his arms. My hands went to the waistband of his shorts, and I didn't hesitate. I pulled them down, his cock springing free—long, thick, and already slick at the tip.

I knelt without a word, taking him into my mouth. He tasted salty, masculine. I hollowed my cheeks, taking him deep, my hand wrapped around the base. He moaned, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Jesus, just like that.”

I sucked him hard, my tongue tracing the vein on the underside, until he pulled me up. “Not like this,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to be inside you.”

He had me on my back on the mat in seconds, my leggings and panties yanked down to my knees. He spread my legs wide, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight, fast circles. I was already soaking wet.

“You’re so wet, Sarah,” he breathed, pushing a finger inside me. “So ready for my cock.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Please, Marcus. Fuck me.”

He didn't tease. He positioned himself at my entrance and slammed inside me, a single, brutal thrust that made me cry out. He was so deep, so thick, stretching me, filling me completely. He started to move, a hard, punishing rhythm that had my hips bucking up to meet him.

“Oh god, yes!” I screamed, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“You like that?” he grunted, his face buried in my neck. “You like my cock in this tight little pussy?”

“Yes, yes, harder!”

He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against my ass. I could feel the sweat dripping from his brow onto my skin. He hooked his arm under my knee, pushing it up to my chest, changing the angle, hitting that spot inside me that made my vision white out. I came with a shuddering cry, my walls clenching around him.

He didn't stop. He flipped me onto my hands and knees, his hand landing on my ass with a sharp smack. “You’re not done yet.”

He drove into me from behind, deeper than before. I buried my face in the mat, moaning into the rubber as he took me, his fingers digging into my hips. I could feel every inch of him as he slid in and out, the wet sounds of our bodies echoing in the empty gym.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained.

“Cum inside me,” I begged, not caring about the consequences. “Fill me up.”

With a final, deep thrust, he roared, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me. I collapsed onto the mat, him collapsing on top of me, both of us panting, slick with sweat.

After a moment, he rolled off, pulling me into his arms. He kissed my forehead, a soft, lazy kiss. Then he started to laugh, a low, rumbling sound.

“What?” I asked, smiling.

“I think I need to re-evaluate my training methods,” he said, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. “This is way more effective than a personal best.”

I laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet gym, and I knew this business trip was going to be the best one yet.

CATEGORIES: [Fitness, On a Business Trip, Gym, Hotel, Just the Two of Us]