Last Set, Last Call

The gym was a cathedral of iron and sweat, the air thick with the sting of disinfectant and the ghost of a thousand workouts. I was on my last set of pull-ups, arms shaking, when I saw her walk in. Elena. She lived two doors down, married to a guy who traveled for work, and she had a way of moving that made the fluorescent lights feel like a candlelit dinner. She wore a loose tank top and yoga pants that clung to every curve like they were afraid of being left behind.

“Closing in ten,” I said, dropping to the floor, wiping my face with a towel.

“I know,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. She walked past me to the squat rack, and I caught the scent of her perfume—something floral, expensive, out of place among the chalk and rubber. “Just need a quick workout. You mind?”

“Not at all.” I watched her load the bar. She was strong, I knew that. I’d seen her deadlift twice her bodyweight once, the veins in her forearms popping, her face a mask of pure focus. But tonight, something was different. The way she adjusted her ponytail, the way her eyes lingered on mine a beat too long.

She started her squats, and I couldn’t look away. The bar dipped, her ass pushed back, the fabric of her pants stretching tight over her hips. She let out a soft grunt with each rep, and it went straight to my cock. I adjusted my shorts, hoping she didn’t notice.

“How many?” I asked, moving closer.

“Three more,” she breathed. On the last one, she racked the bar and stood up, her chest heaving. She caught me staring, and instead of looking away, she smiled. A real smile, with teeth.

“You’re not even pretending to work out anymore,” she said.

“Can’t help it. You’re a distraction.”

She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Maybe I want to be.”

My heart hammered. “Elena…”

“Don’t,” she whispered, her hand reaching up to touch my chest. “Don’t think. Just… feel.”

Her lips were on mine before I could respond. She tasted like mint and something sweeter, and her tongue slid against mine like she’d been thinking about this for hours. My hands found her waist, pulled her against me, and I felt the hard press of her nipples through the thin tank top. She moaned into my mouth, a low, desperate sound.

“I need you,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. “Now. Here.”

I looked around—the gym was empty, the lights dimmed except for the ones above us. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the yoga mats in the corner, away from the windows. She went willingly, her hips swaying.

I pushed her against the wall, my mouth on her neck, my hands sliding under her tank top. Her skin was slick with sweat, and she arched into me, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I pulled the top over her head, and her tits spilled out—full, heavy, with dusky nipples already hard. I took one in my mouth, sucking hard, and she cried out, her fingers threading through my hair.

“Fuck, yes,” she breathed.

I dropped to my knees, hooked my fingers into the waistband of her yoga pants, and pulled them down. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her pussy was glistening, already wet, the scent of her hitting me like a drug. I looked up at her, and she nodded, biting her lip.

“Please,” she whispered.

I licked her, long and slow, from her clit to her entrance. She tasted incredible—salty, musky, female. Her hips bucked against my mouth, and I grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh, pulling her closer. I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, and she let out a guttural moan.

“God, yes, right there,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I ate her like she was my last meal, my tongue dipping inside her, then back to her clit, until her thighs were trembling around my head. She came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her juices flooding my mouth.

Before she could recover, I stood up, unzipped my shorts, and let my cock spring free. It was rock hard, aching. She looked at it, her eyes wide, and licked her lips.

“You want this?” I asked, my voice rough.

“I want you inside me,” she said. “Now.”

I spun her around, bent her over the mat, and grabbed her hips. She was so wet that I slid in with one smooth, brutal thrust. She screamed, a mix of pain and pleasure, and I froze, giving her a moment to adjust.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she growled.

I fucked her hard, my balls slapping against her ass with every stroke. The sound was obscene, wet, and she pushed back against me, meeting each thrust. I leaned over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” I grunted.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please, harder.”

I grabbed her ponytail and pulled her head back, fucking her deeper, rougher. Her moans became incoherent, a string of curses and pleas. I could feel my orgasm building, a hot coil in my gut.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warned.

“Inside me,” she gasped. “Fill me up.”

That was all I needed. I slammed into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I came, flooding her with my cum. She clenched around me, another orgasm ripping through her, and we collapsed onto the mat together, breathing hard.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then she started to laugh, a light, musical sound.

“That was…” she started.

“Unexpected?” I offered.

“Amazing,” she finished. She turned her head, looking at me over her shoulder, a lazy smile on her face. “We should do this again. Maybe somewhere with a bed next time.”

I laughed, pulling out of her with a soft, wet sound. “I know a place.”

She stood up, pulled her yoga pants back on, and handed me my shirt. “Your place. Tomorrow. My husband’s gone for a week.”

I kissed her, soft and slow, tasting myself on her lips. “It’s a date.”

She winked, grabbed her water bottle, and walked out, leaving me alone in the dim gym with the smell of sex and sweat and the promise of tomorrow.

CATEGORIES: [Champagne, Cheating, Just the Two of Us, Gym, Milf]