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Unleashed

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“Like what you see?”

At first I don’t even realize he’s addressing me. I hadn’t realized that I was staring, really–hadn’t even considered the idea. Perhaps I was never exactly Monogamist of the Year, but harmless one-time hookups on business trips every few years doesn’t put me in the Mae West category either. Up until he introduced himself I was living in denial: of my total lack of interest in my husband, of his disinterest in me, and of the disappearance of our sex life. I wouldn’t have admitted that each skirt I bought had a higher hemline, or that the stares the scandalous outfits got were the most rewarding sexual interaction I would have for weeks at a time.

More relevant to his question–I wouldn’t have confessed that my religious gym attendance was partly to keep my butt toned for young men’s roving eyes and partly to enjoy a vista populated by sweaty, muscled, half-naked 25 year old men.

I came to terms with all of this rather abruptly in trying to reply. Had I been watching him? Probably. Obviously? He seems to think so. Maybe he’s just outgoing, maybe it’s entirely innocent and I’d missed what he’s referring to.

He smiles at me from behind a drop of sweat about to fall from the tip of his nose. I waste more time thinking that he has cute sweat, and then a few more seconds questioning whether it’s possible for sweat to fall in a sexually appealing manner. All sweat falls at the same speed, why am I fascinated by his?

I get back on track for a second:

“I’m Gina.” Doesn’t exactly answer the question but he got the idea.

I can güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri flirt, I swear, but for now I just say my name and promptly drop the towel I’m holding. I duck and blush, swatting post-treadmill stray hairs back into line. As I stand again, his fingertips find my forearm as he laughs.

“I’m Alan.” Assorted witty banter on his part follows. Every ten seconds I repeat:

“I’m sorry, but I’m married and I should really go now, nice to meet you.”

Actually that only happens inside my head. I’m not sure what I’m actually saying but the room gets a bit hazy, possibly twirling a bit, accompanied by my slight dizziness and weakness in the knees. His smile is the only stationary thing so I stare at it, only to keep my balance, not because I’m falling totally in lust with him or anything.

From time to time I catch myself shifting my weight onto on leg, sticking a hip out, leaning back against the wall and arching my breasts towards him, batting my eyelashes. I’m not unnerved that I’m flirting–just alarmed that my body has decided to do so without my permission.

At some point, as I’m caught in limbo between token fidelity and natural instinct, he decides it’s a good idea to kiss me. In the middle of the gym. It starts as a charmingly abrupt first kiss between strangers but suddenly everything between the top of my breasts and my groin is pressing up against him and my arm is clamped around the back of his head. Something stiff is poking me at waist level and I think his tongue is sliding along the inside of my upper lip. güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri Everything is hot and wet and I need air, and then the kiss is over.

I’m formulating a sentence about the need to continue this somewhere less exposed but, yet again, he’s ahead of me and suggests maybe I need to get some fresh air and offers to walk me outside. At least a couple members of the club are staring and I’ve instantly become the woman who necks in the hallway near the cardio machines, probably for the rest of my life.

My hip is rubbing insistently against his thigh as we head out together; the friction of spandex against my inner thighs and my butt and my nipples is driving me insane. I’m soaking wet between the legs and as everything slides against everything else he puts an arm around me and squeezes my waist.

By the time we get outside I’ve more than decided that I’m ready for this. I want the thing that’s making the bulge in his pants and consequences are not only irrelevant but laughable. In the parking lot, I take out my car keys, we beeline towards the minivan, and we shove each other through the sliding door.

We both have some urgent agendas regarding clothing removal—I let his take priority and my shirt flies off. For a second the kiss pins my head to the van’s seat. Then his bottom teeth are scraping the bottom of my chin and my head rolls back and he dives into my exposed breasts. Who knows where the sports bra is at this point.

I want to feel every inch of him against me. My legs clamp themselves behind his back and his güvenilir bahis şirketleri crotch slams onto mine. I yelp, nothing dignified, nothing that even qualifies as sexy and animalistic, just the sheer shock and pleasure of someone having great sex for the first time in years. I can feel his hard length sliding up and down my mound, crushing into my lips and clit. There’s nothing deft about any of this, either on my part or his. Our hips have started to shove against each other and neither of us has the presence of mind to merge with the other’s rhythm.

I tear his shorts and boxers away, clutching at the hard throbbing cock. He’s kissing me again, filling my mouth with his tongue and I suck it deeper as I feel my shoes being torn off, the spandex pants ripped downwards, snagging briefly at my knee.

He fucks me. His entry is as abrupt as everything else about the encounter, popping me open and claiming me. There’s no more foreplay, none needed, no inept toying with my clit: he needs to shove into me and satisfy himself. My back arches, legs flop open, I alternate between gasps and screams. The bench seat of the middle row of a minivan isn’t really made for enthusiastic sex—-my limbs are smacking into things and I struggle not to fall off.

The cock is sliding around inside me, not just thrusting but dancing, screwing hard, and my pussy struggles to keep up with him. I’m being stretched, pummeled, and invaded. The orgasm explodes up and down my body and I feel my lips slapping around him, grabbing at him, as he fucks them.

He’s done soon after and collapses on me; we’re wearing matching embarrassed can’t-believe-we-did-that grins. As the heavy breathing dies down he thanks me and offers to hook up any time I want to. I just smile and hang onto him a little longer–I haven’t decided if there will be a next time with him, but will certainly be a next time.

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