CNC at the gym

The 24 hour gym has a back room I love. It’s out of the way, and most importantly, no windows to give the public a free show. I work swing shift so it’s usually empty when I go, just around midnight.

Tonight there is one man, in the corner, lifting heavy things as men at the gym do. My focus is cardio, always. I warily glance at him occasionally. This man is not bad looking, tall and definitely leads an active lifestyle. Looks a normal sort. He seems engaged in his work and does not make eye contact. Good.

I am sweaty and nearing the end of my goal for the day. My muscles have already opened up and sang in that euphoria after the initial coaxing. Now I am winding down, slowing my heartrate. It has been a good day. Things have been accomplished. I am winning at life all around. I step off the treadmill and cross to my bag.

He grabs me as I have my sweaty face buried in a towel.

It is a blitz attack, a hard one. I hit the gray padded mats hard and his full weight is upon me. Now the realization hits and my brain is firing. All my limbs moving at once, my nails clawing, my mouth snapping. I land a solid bite and am rewarded with a slap. By the time I have processed actually being hit in the face he has my wrists pinned together with one hand. I marvel at his strength to hold both my arms.

His other hand is groping furiously at clothing; stretching my yoga pants until I hear seams ripping. This asshole just ruined a new pair of leggings. Fuck this guy.

I don’t make it easy for him. My legs are conditioned and much stronger than my arms. He has a harder time getting my bottom half still and I get a tuft of his hair. I do avoid his groin area, conscious of irreversible damage.

We struggle like this for a while. Could be seconds, could be minutes. He is trying to tire me out and I am aware. I have reserves in my tank but did go hard already today and his timing for attack is most reassuredly purposefully planned well.

Now my shirt and sports bra are pushed up, revealing my breasts under these bright harsh lights. Anyone could walk in and see me. The fact distracts me in the way odd thoughts sneak in at odd times.

I need a moment, just a moment to rest. In that brief time he has my pants off, my expensive Nikes going with them. My panties are soaked with pungent after workout sweat. Those come off like wet tissue paper.

I lost track of when his own shorts have come off but I am aware of our combined nakedness as I feel more body heat over mine. He is positioning himself and I suddenly try to relax, instinctively forcing my body to loosen up so I won’t tear. Years of being a woman readies one for this. My thighs are open, shaking from fatigue. He is between them, a victor on his mound.

He drives himself in almost completely with one thrust. I cry out and his mouth clamps over mine. God, I forget just how much he fills me up. Another thrust and he is home, as deep as he can possibly be.

I try to keep the fight up, I love the wrestling, but he has worn me down like a water on stone. His thrusting has brought out my slickness from within. This lubrication giving him his answer.

I hungrily crane my neck up to receive more of his kisses, to savor his familiar taste. He has claimed me and I try to open myself more and more.

His deep rotations stop and I am breathless. He has taught me to listen to his breathing and know when he is close. I breathe heavily and make small whimpers while trying to be still; this playtime needs to last.

He resumes again with slow, deep strokes, rotating his pelvis counter clockwise. He is grinding on me, going over and over my one spot. The only spot that can send me over. It is not an easy task for a lazy man. My man is not lazy. He has taught me how to recognize his smell blindfolded. This lover takes over my body like a vampire and I happily surrender. My hips are clamped around his waist. I am a vise over him inside and out.

Every waking hour for the last 2 days he has prepared me. Had me apply then reapply hot oils that stimulate my clit. Had me pull on, twist, play with my piercing. Flick my clit until it was engorged with blood and sensitive to open air. Edge myself on toys until I was pleading. Kept me hungry. This is how I must be played, and only a patient man can do it. My body is a chess set and it must be outmaneuvered.

Today it will work, our combined efforts, and I will get to fall into that chasm where satiated dreams lay. This is why this man owns me; he is quite literally a key to my lock. It is not every day I get to climax, and tomorrow I will wear the red choker to work. The red choker shows the world. But only he and I know why I get to wear this collar. What it symbolizes. Orgasms worn out loud. I will also have his bite marks on my inner thighs, my ass, my breasts. He has rebranded me.

Our story unfolds in glimpses through emotion: my hands in his hair, my nails on his back and streaking their way across his ass. His glistening cock suddenly leaving me empty as he stops again for control and to reposition. There is exquisite pain mixed within this pleasure. His nature in this state is not to question, it is just to feel and react. He yanks me to his level and I am happy to fall, desperate to fall.

We are a messy watercolor; subjective. Look at us or don’t. We are not for you.

At one point he stops and we are looking into each other’s eyes. I raise my hand to caress his sweet face. I feel sweat and stubble. He smiles deviously. Gods, this man is lovely. It is the best thing to be known by a lover, to have someone answer unspoken calls.

His climax today will be as he wants it, as he needs it. It is his turn. There is no experimentation today. When we are in public we must fall back on trusted methods. It will be my legs on his shoulders. I keen myself to his rapidly increasing breathing. The best part is his sounds in my ear. I want to die hearing those sounds of another plain, grunts and sighs and panting.

I am desperate to receive him. To feel that hot lava spurt within. He is deep, so deep it hurts and I know I will spot all day tomorrow from my aggravated cervix. I love that he doesn’t care.

His climax is mine, I will not give it to you by describing it. It is a sacred thing he has done just for me. It comes with sticky laughter and lingering kisses. We will both be sore and bruised tomorrow. This man has shown me the world.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lxnvlq/cnc_at_the_gym