I exercise my opinion, and that should be enough for anyone, I always say. When you get right down to it, I hate jogging, physical fitness, extra activity of any sort. So, what was I doing, forcing my less-than svelte body to mimic the frenzied motions of a half-dozen shapely young women in the middle of a very brightly lit, very mirrored health club?
Because the instructor of this exercise class just happened to be raven haired, toned, disgustingly fit, breathtakingly sexy Jamie. Ever since I met Jamie at a Great Books group - an activity with an exercise requirement more to my liking, thank you, flip page, read, flip page, read, and repeat - I had been unable to get her out of my mind.
More than once, I'd awoken drenched in my own sweat, hand between my legs, in the panting aftermath of a tremendous orgasm. It didn't take me long to realize that this always happened after a dream of Jamie - a dream of kissing those full, rich lips, of caressing her firm, high breasts, of kissing my way across the washboard of her stomach to the glorious garden below. I certainly couldn't continue on in this frustrating situation, and decided to do something about it.
Our conversations at book group soon took on an intimate, flirtatious quality, leading me to believe my attentions were not unwelcome. Still, I sensed I'd have to do more than read the same books to build a common bond with Jamie. I'd have to establish some other common interests.
Besides being a weekend intellectual, Jamie was an exercise fanatic. It didn't take long to discover that she spent three, sometimes four days a week at this gym. Five minutes and five hundred dollars later, I was sweating my way closer to her.
Jamie seemed pleasantly surprised the first time she saw me at the gym, and helped me master the intricacies of the Nautilus machine. Later, she showed me how to adjust the difficulty of the Stairmaster, and laughed at my astonishment that anyone would want to make walking to nowhere even more torturous.
"Sometimes a little resistance makes the whole process better," Jamie said, in those husky tones that sent waves of pleasure directly from my ears to my throbbing clit. "But I can see that's not what you're into." She rested one perfectly manicured hand on my left shoulder, leaning close to whisper in my ear. "Come to the class I teach - isometric aerobics." Her lips brushed my skin ever so slightly. "I promise you'll find no resistance at all."
So of course, I signed up for her class.
Today was the first time I'd attended, and I was pretty sure I'd made a mistake. These women were obviously devoted gym rats, and I was way out of my league. The class had been going on for nearly forty-five minutes, and by this point, I was praying that I hadn't misinterpreted her double entendre. Sweat was pouring down my face, back, and chest. My tee shirt stuck to me in a million places, highlighting curves that held more fat than the rest of the class had put together. I was gasping for air - and not in the pleasant way my dreams of Jamie had left me. At least, I thought wryly, I'd get to touch Jamie's lips once - while she was giving me CPR after I collapsed on the studio floor. Maybe Jamie noticed my distress or maybe aerobics classes only last fifty minutes. Either way, she ended the group by announcing,
"Anyone who is having difficulty with the routines, please feel free to come see me anytime. I'm here to make this an enjoyable experience for everyone." Then she turned her deep brown eyes directly on me, and said, "Ms. Turner, if you can stay after class, I have a few suggestions that may be helpful to you."
"Like dropping down to the beginners' class," some snotty blond bitch commented on her way out of the studio, but as I wasn't sure how to spell Cardio-Karate, much less perform it, I let it pass.
"You did really well," Jamie commented, circling close to me after everyone left. "It took a lot of guts to come do something you're so not ready for." She gently brushed back the hair plastered to my forehead. "Now you know how I feel when you all are discussing literary movements." She chuckled. "The things we do for desire. Come with me. The instructors have a private shower room - we'll get cleaned up."
Despite the intense workout, I had more than enough energy to follow Jamie into the shower room. Unlike the common locker room, the door to this room locked, I was pleased to note. I smiled broadly when I saw my gym back tucked in a locker.
"You're pretty confident, aren't you?" I asked.
"Not really." Jamie replied. "I just like to get what I want." Suddenly those full lips I'd fantasized about were pressed against mine, her tongue probing for mine. I pressed against her, feeling her taut, sweaty body melting into my softer curves. I broke off the kiss to gasp with pleasure as Jamie's hand sneaked under my shirt, dancing over my chest. She didn't let me escape for long, though, and soon her lips claimed mine again.
"I've wanted to do this for so long," she finally said, raising her head from mine. "And I want to do it right." Jamie untangled herself from my grasp, and started towards the shower. "Don't want this too warm," she said, testing the spray. "We're hot enough as it is."
She turned toward me, totally in control of the situation. Without protest, I let her pull my sweat-soaked clothes from my body, gasping slightly as the cooler air of the shower room hit my bare skin. She stripped quickly also, revealing a body borne of many hours of hard work. Her breasts, unlike mine, stood firmly from her chest. Raisin colored nipples beckoned an invitation, and I quickly bent my lips to them.
Jamie moaned in pleasure for a few brief seconds, then pulled my head away. "Shower," she commanded breathlessly, and I hastened to obey.
I had barely stepped into the spray when she joined me, holding a puff just dripping in soap. Before I realized what happened, she'd covered me in a cloud of vanilla scented bubbles. Sweat, tension, and muscle fatigue melted away under her touch, only to be replaced by shuddering waves of anticipation. Jamie scrubbed my back and legs with long, sweeping strokes, carefully avoiding both my bosom and my crotch. I couldn't tell if the moisture running down my face was from the shower or tears of frustration. Between moans of pleasure, I managed to beg, "Please, Jamie, Please."
Instantly she drew me closer in her arms. "Please what?" she breathed. "Please touch you here?" Her fingers drew the puff over my breasts, delicately scrubbing over and around my protruding nipples. "Please touch you here?" The puff dropped down between my legs. Involuntarily, I ground my hips against her hand, desperate for some contact between her skin and my clit.
She laughed. "Oh, you are a hot little pistol. I knew that when I first laid eyes on you."
Jamie chewed on my neck, all the while pressing the puff against my crotch. Just as I felt the first wave of orgasm sneak up on me, she dropped the puff and snuck one finger into my dripping snatch. "Jesus," she groaned, "You're so hot, so tight." The waves of pleasure were so intense that I lost my footing and we both wound up on the floor of the shower.
That didn't seem to matter to Jamie, though. Totally disregarding the streams of water pouring down on us, she maneuvered over my prone form. I allowed myself one sigh of pleasure at the feel of her lips on my labia before I reached for her muscular thighs and pulled her into range of my searching tongue.
Now, I'm not the most promiscuous lesbian in the world. The handful of lovers I've had were all built like me - soft, generous features with fleshy curves that could smother one in the throes of passion. I'd never experienced a hard body like Jamie's, ridged with muscle. Her pussy was even defined, with hard thighs holding my head captive. And her clit! Maybe it was the result of all the physical fitness, but her clit was huge and pronounced - just like a miniature cock. It was only natural to suck on it.
"Oh Jesus!" Jamie screamed when I did, thrashing her body around. It was my turn to hold her in place, forcing her to hold still through shuddering orgasm after orgasm. I was so enraptured with watching Jamie cum; feeling my face drenched with her hot, sticky juices, that I didn't even mind that she was seemingly ignoring my hungry pussy.
But I was the one distracted, not Jamie. When I was watching her beautiful pussy, she had somehow grabbed hold of a dildo, and suddenly fed the end of it into me. "I love to see you get stretched wide open," Jamie said, rubbing her chin against my clit. "I'm gonna fuck all the cum out of you!"
Expertly, she pounded that rubber shaft in and out of me until my screams of pleasure echoed off of the tile walls. By the time she was done, I couldn't tell if the puddles under my hips were from the shower or from my own juices pouring forth in waves.
Our passion momentarily spent, we sat under the now-cold shower, grinning like fools. "Wow." Jamie said. "That was even better than I expected."
"Yeah," I answered. "Me too." We kissed again, a little awkward, uncertain what to do after that passionate collision.
"So," I ventured, "Want to go get some dinner? We could even," I paused, wrinkling my nose in mock disgust, "get something healthy."
"Nah," Jamie countered, kissing my neck once more, "Let's get ice cream. I'll help you work it off anytime you like."
Originally published April 2006 - "April Showers"