I am sure I heard a compliment as I walked into the gym. You know, one of the kind that most women don’t enjoy.
I am sure I hear the words “fit bird” from one of the two builders as they see me go by and haul up their trousers to hide the cleavage.
I look round and glare. They make eye contact and smile defiantly.
“Wankers” I mutter underneath my breath and go in to begin my workout.
I love the feel of Lycra, love the look of my sculpted legs in pink legging the tightness around the crotch. I am aware of the looks I attract as I work out but I pretend not to notice. I always start on the exercise bike and, even at 6.30 in the morning, I am reading. I read obsessively and usually have four books on the go. One of these is always a book of filth.
I don’t mind reading openly in the gym, in fact, if they want to look at me, and admire, my legs , my bum, my tits beneath the loose fitting top, let them know what kind of woman I am. I read, I pedal my way into an easy rhythm, feel the Lycra hugging my skin. Exercise can be deeply sensual and I am feeling aroused even before I begin to read.
I read a page, dwelling on the words, the images, I put the book down, I feel again the Lycra on my skin, the tightness of the leggings around my crotch. A damp patch is forming, darkening the pink.
I pull Natalie to the ground, roughly pull down her blouse. I suck greedily at her nipples, pulling the breasts, squeezing hard with y lips and twisting so that she gasps with pain that is at the same time pleasure. I draw her head close pulling her hair as I do so. I want to hurt her, want her to feel pain, because this makes me horny. I kiss her, pushing my tongue into her mouth as roughly as I can. ,
“I am going to make you suffer for making me suffer when I read your book, in the gym, on the bus, in places where I ache for relief but can’t get any, because I spend so much time at the office when I should be working, locked in a cubicle in the ladies’, playing with myself.”
I kiss her again. She smells of cider, of the roll up cigarettes we have often shared outside conference venues, the hair is unwashed and unkempt but she smells of animal sexuality. She is so different to me, no make-up, there is a mysterious masculinity about her whereas I am all girl. I kiss her again and smudge my bright red lipstick over her cheek. This is a marker of my ownership.
“You’re a filthy slut and I am going to spank you hard.”
I drag her roughly over my knee and pull down her panties. I rubbed my hand over the blank white canvas of her buttocks and pinched until she cried out. I lay my left arm across the base of her spine and, cupping my hand loosely, took aim. The force of the first blow reverberated back through my hand. The second made my hand sting. She cried out as it landed and left a red hand print on her right buttock.
I continued, building up the tempo, feeling the warmth I generated. I felt arousal as I began to hit hard and rhythmically and she began to moan. After a while I stopped and caressed her glowing buttocks before digging my fingernails in to twist and scratch,
“Stop it you bitch!”
I dig in harder.
“Fucking bitch” she shouts as I drew blood.
“Your turn now” she says. She stands up, walks across the room and picks up a dildo and harness.
“I am going to take you up the bottom.”
I am soaking wet by now.
“I just want you inside me. Just do it.”
And she bends me over a chair, felt for me with two fingers, before pushing in inside slowly, with a cold slap of lube. She thrusts and I pedal. She is strong, she is forceful and I am aware of a shift in the power dynamic of this encounter. She is pushing harder than I have known before. I clench the muscles to tighter my passage against the invasion. But yield as I must. I cry out as if seeking rescue. Natalie’s buttocks sting and now she is turning the tables on me.
I lean forward and increase the speed of the exercise bike a notch. I feel a stabbing brain in my quads. I need more of this. And when Natalie has finished, she takes off the harness, throws it casually aside and returns to her writing.
I am wet. A patch of darker pink is spreading across my crotch like tea through a sugar lump. I raise myself slightly out of the saddle from which I am starting to slip to keep pedalling. I am nearly done, I have burned a bacon sandwich worth of calories but I will resist that temptation as I pass the café on my way home. I pedal hard, embrace the pain.
And even now that I am so nearly spent, Natalie isn’t finished with me. She looks up from her laptop and motions to me to lie down again and spread my legs. Once more she straps on the dildo and approaches. She is magnificent, six feet of Amazon in stockinged feet, a toned body. She takes my wrists and holds them tight, pushing them roughly to the sheet twisting the skin in her hands as he does, Chinese burn style, .
“Stop it” I say “You’re hurting me.”
Sarah says nothing, just slips a finger inside my c**t, holds it against my mouth.
“Taste” she orders quietly.
Then she takes a longer, fatter dildo, and goes down on me, pushes her way in and begins to pump forcefully. I arch my back to allow her to penetrate more deeply.
I look furtively around the gym, slip a finger inside my leggings and rub my clit as I pedal harder and faster to a climax.
I come with a scream and sink back onto the bed. The exercise bike bleeps to tell me my workout is finished. I take a sip of Lucozade, pick up my book and kiss it.
Natalie withdraws and slides the condom off the end of the dildo. She leans over me and kisses me gently on the forehead.
“You’re a fit bird you know that?”
I pack my things into my gym bag. The workmen are still in the gym reception area as I leave. I smile at them and they look away, avoiding eye contact.
I swing my bag over my shoulder for the walk home.
I can’t stop smiling.