At the Gym - Part 1

 

Can I ask where you go to church?

Why does that matter?

Because at my age I know people from the gym, church, Boy Scouts, or PTA. And, since we're at the gym, I can rule that out, and your way too hot for the PTA.

Are church women hot? 

They certainly are at my church.

Oh really? Have you noticed?

God tells us to appreciate the beauty of the world, I happen to like doing that.

You know this approach is super cheesy, right?

Well, I wasn't the one who got on the floor on my hands and knees and started doing stretches in front of me.

It was the only open spot on the floor.

That would be true except for the empty aerobics room, the Pilates studio, the mats by the locker room, or the corner by the deadlift station.

Those looked busy. I liked the spot I chose.

I like your choices too. I'm Tony.

I'm Candy and I do go to church with my husband every week.

With your husband? That makes your choice for stretching even more interesting.

What makes it interesting? 

Let's just say you got my attention in the best way possible and freely admit that you are married, I'm flattered and confused.

Don't be confused.

So, what next?

You talk to me tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my swim day. Kind of hard to talk underwater.

Can you talk in a jacuzzi?

Quite nicely in fact.

Finish your swim by 7:30 and I'll be there.

I can make that work. 

I have to leave now, I have 8:00 work call, try not to stare at my ass while I walk away

I'm going to stare at it until the entire gym is uncomfortable.

She turned and walked away without looking back over her shoulder and I kept my promise. Cheryl the trainer laughed at me as she noticed my unbroken gaze.

“What would Susan think about her?” Cheryl asked.

“Susan moved out two weeks ago”, I replied, “so I don't care what she thinks anymore.”

“Shit”, Cheryl said, putting her arm on my shoulder. “That kind of sucks.”

I looked down at my sympathetic friend and said, ”Only kinda.”

 

 ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

The house was unusually quiet in the mornings ever since Susan walked out on me and started shacking up with her, with our, investment advisor. Luckily, I knew there was a spark between them early on, so I quietly moved most of my money to a different bank and reallocated my 401K and my pension away from her control. I let Tony and Susan think they were getting away with something behind my back but the $100,000 fund he was investing for us was just play money compared to the rest. 

When she finally files for divorce, I can prove they were conspiring against me for at least six months and his investment strategy of putting accounts in her name only will blow up in their face. I'm OK with that. Losing $100,000 while protecting my house is a small price to pay. It wasn't small change, but I was anticipating the look on her face when they realized I knew all along that they were banging each other every Tuesday afternoon when I had to go north to the Head Office.

The funny thing was that if she only asked, I would have gladly let Tony into our bed. Susan always wanted a three-way with two guys and Tony was a nice guy and handsome and probably had a nice cock, but instead she went behind my back and will pay the price for that. It also didn't hurt that I had a tracker on Susan’s car after her little indiscretion with Randolph.

That barely scratched the surface, all she did was make out with our youth ministry pastor after the annual summer campfire. He's cute, Susan’s hot AF, and campfires are very romantic. What they didn't know was that, because the camp hosts children under 18 all summer, they had security cameras everywhere, including one mounted in the branches of a pine tree that pointed at the campfire amphitheater. I won't even have to use that in the divorce but if it comes up, I'll do it. Randy’s a nice kid and his life doesn't need to be ruined because some hot cougar came after him at camp

I ended my walk down memory lane as I made myself a large mug of hot chocolate with my protein powder, ate my banana, and got dressed. I would be in the pool for most of my workout, but I still needed to look presentable to do a few sit-ups, and work on my favorite machine before the pool. 

Another branch of my gym has just closed down and now all the old folks from the old place need a new place to swim. I'm glad they're still working out at their age but maybe they could do it at a different time? No worries, however, I hopped in the car and drove to the gym barely thinking about who might be in the jacuzzi afterwards.

It's one thing to flirt a little bit in the gym, it happens all the time. Men and women in spandex and T-shirts lifting weights and getting sweaty is a hormonally charged environment and everybody looks good at the gym and everybody gets a little strange. I consciously try not to interact too much, at least I did. I assume beautiful women want to be left alone and who am I to bother them during their workout?  With Susan gone, however, I think a might change my strategy a little bit. Still, no one wants to be known as that creepy guy at the gym so if this thing with Candy is a bust, I'll play it slow

I did the math in my head, 45 laps, 45 minutes, and in the jacuzzi at 7:31. Maybe it's a little passive aggressive but I didn't want to get out of the pool and wait for her if she wasn't going to show up. Of course, hanging out in the jacuzzi with my phone is part of my weekly routine. It wouldn't raise suspicion; I just need time in the pool. The nice thing about a timed swim is I don't count laps. I look at the clock, I figure when I need to stop, and I just go. In my head I race against the people in the other lanes, I try to think of things to write, stories to make up, things to do, but the sound of my breathing and the splashing to the water makes it very hard to think, which was a lifesaver after Susan left. Time without thinking was the best thing of all.

I count the first few laps and then let it go,

12 strokes touch the wall turn around 12 strokes touch the wall turn around. 216 strokes per quarter mile, 864 for a mile, and today's goal, 1080. 1080 breaths, 88 turns, one thought in my head.  “Will she show up?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall at 7:25 and saw her walk in. Tall, fit, wrapped in a beautifully modest one-piece blue bathing suit. That was all I could see as I lost track of where I was and almost ran into the wall. Luckily, she didn't see me flustered at the end of the lane, trying to turn around. She was early and I did not want to seem eager, so I finished three more laps and pushed myself out of the pool in the corner and sat on the edge. She had her back to me, her back to the pool, but I knew it was her, that long brown hair what was her trademark and now, pulled back in a ponytail, it was adorable.

I caught my breath, gathered my things, and walked over. I set my towel, goggles, and phone on the bench and stepped down into the jacuzzi and sat opposite of her and smiled.

“Good morning.” I tried to say it without too much of an exclamation point.

“Good morning to you”, she said in return, “enjoy your swim?”

“Yes”, I said”, indeed I did. 45 minutes, 45 laps, done for the day”

“Done with what?” She asked.

“Done with my workout.”

She leaned back against the Jacuzzi’s edge and put her arms wide open lifting her chest slightly above the water. From her body language I could tell that she had opened her legs.

“Are you really done working out for the day?”

 

The Appointment - Part 2

As she said, at 2:50 her sister was loading up the kids into the light blue Prius.  Two large swim bags were already in the open trunk. Kate wasn’t married though I don’t know why.  She was pretty in an “older sister” kind of way, the softer hips of a certain age, but long brown hair, beautiful eyes, and today, an eye-popping outfit that showed way more cleavage than the average mom taking her kids to swim lessons.  Maybe she was going to distract the lifeguard.

I drove by, pretending not to stare at her as I rolled to a stop at the light, but she caught my eye as she stared at my rear-view mirror.  It was easy to see I was staring at her in the reflection. I signaled, made the right turn, and took a long eastward loop around the block to give her time to leave. The pool was down the hill in the other direction, so I was safe.

My parking spot was behind the neighbor’s garage. They travelled extensively for his Ministering work so I could be off the street. Not that anyone would care, who’s going to notice a 2013 Nova?

I didn’t knock on the front door but stepped around back to her studio. The is where was supposed to be painting.  She did on occasion, but that occasion was not today.

She was in her regular ‘fit, suitable for seeing her sister and playing the part of the caring suburban mother.  Bent over and spreading a new blanket over the big couch, I stayed quiet and watched her as I set my camera gear on the little couch. 

I admired her slim hips, even after two kids, and her strong arms, built from hours at the barre and in the gym.  “Strength & Grace” was painted on the wall as her personal motto.

“I know you are there,” she said, “stop staring at my ass.”

“I’m not staring,” I retorted, “I’m admiring.”

“Either way,” she said, standing and turning toward me, “we need to move ahead, Tim’s coming home at 4:30 to grab some tools for an emergency job.”

I stepped around the room turning on the lights I wanted, turning off the others.

“Emergency?” I asked.

“The pipes at Grace Lutheran on Penn Street,” she said and turned toward me, pulling her sweatshirt over her head as she talked, “they are leaking again.”

Her bra was dark blue, thin, sheer, and beautiful. Her breasts were real though many assumed they were fake because they looked so good after nursing two kids and dealing with a cancer scare.

“They are real,” she said once at a party, “but repaired.” The circle of friends laughed, and the men tried not to stare at the topic of conversation.  “Getting some new upholstery doesn’t mean your couch isn’t real.”

“Pipes leaking?” I asked as I prepped my gear?”

“Whistling,” she said, as she sat on the arm rest of the couch next to me, putting her hand on my arm for balance and pulling off her shoes and socks, “last week’s little 3.2 tremblor shook the organ pretty badly and he’s picking up his welding great to help the techs.”

She removed her tennis shoes and, as the client requested, her toenails were deep green with a read stripe, maybe he was getting in the Christmas spirit.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked, Same as last week?”

“I have a couple of Ideas, but yes, let’s get started.”

She stood up next to me and our eyes met because she knew this was my favorite part. With two thumbs in her waistband she pulled her sweatpants down and off in a single motion and stepped out of them. Her panties matched her thin bra and she did a little pirouette for my enjoyment. Once a dancer, always a dancer, I thought in my head admiring her long thin legs, her strong thighs, and her perfectly tight round little ass. The thin blue fabric disappeared between her cheeks and the front triangle was low across her shaved pubis.

“Did you obey the rules?”

She was starting to get in the mental space she needed to be in and answered, yes Sir yes Sir. New paragraph I returned to the favor, taking her left hand in mine and pulling her toward me, I kissed her on the forehead, and said, “Good girl.”

The first shot was always the same, she lay on her stomach with her head facing away from me and in a washable magic marker I wrote the client's name on her left foot. On the right foot I wrote the date.

My camera focused on the words making them crisp and clear and putting her slightly parted legs in the background in a soft blur. Later, that beautiful ass would be in crisp clear focus and he would get his money's worth. After the initial shot was finished, she rolled onto her back and scooted up on the couch. Her feet were the focus, the beautiful nails, the slender toes, her polished skin, and even her heels were porcelain smooth. She knew what she was doing. She was giving her client masturbation material. His foot fetish was well documented and had made her several thousand dollars over the last six months.

The money came in handy as her husband's medical bills piled up.

“It's just my feet,” she said at first, but then he offered more money in exchange for more pictures, and to pay off more bills, she accepted.

She and I have been friends for years period I knew her husband through the Rotary Club and some local business deals we were both involved with. His diagnosis was devastating to everyone but I'm the only one that knows how those bills are getting paid. He thinks she negotiated a really good insurance deal and was grateful when she offered to take care of all the billing and insurance statements. Right now, he's clueless.

My camera clicked quietly and frequently as she moved through a fairly standard set of pictures. Her toes and feet would be in focus, her body in the background, her deep blue bra, the sheer panties, her hands and hair all start off in soft focus.

She always got a little nervous when it was time to escalate

We always paused for a mental check, and I switched my camera to video to record the same disclaimer I insisted on every week

Hello, my name is Claire, it is October 19th, 2026. I am here with my photographer known as “The Eraser”, I am here voluntarily. All pictures taken will be done so voluntarily, I am not under coercion, I am here of my own free will. The safe word of the day is pixel and I am independently recording this session for everyone's safety.

We then hit stop on the video, and I start a new file.

My name is Claire, it is October 19th, 2026. The video I am about to shoot is of a sexual and intimate nature. I do so voluntarily and of my own free will. I certified that I am over 21 years old in the state where I live and am legally an adult making this decision of my own free will. I have personally selected the actions and images I will share. There is no coercion I am here with my own free will. My partner who may or may not appear on video, and my cameraman, have both signed disclaimers which are on file with my attorney at Jenkins, Collinsworth and Penske Associates. All rights to these videos are held by me and my legal corporation of Pixie Films Incorporated LLC.

“Are you ready?”

She sank deep into the couch and brought her heels inward so her feet and panties were in the same shot.  I adjusted the lights, tuned my flash, and focused.

Her fingers stared to caress her feet, play with her toes, and then move to the outside of her panties.  Through the sheer material I could already see she was getting wet. Just because it made her nervous, did not mean it didn't turn her on. She laid back on the couch and the pose became more relaxed, less staged, as her fingers disappeared between her thighs, using her long fingernails to scratch add her lips now damp and pressed against the translucent silk. Soon her fingers slipped inside her panties, I adjusted the light to create a shadow that showed what her fingers were doing.

“You shaved.” I said, chiding her gently.

“I needed to be ready, Sir.”

“You did well.” I said, “Are they on your phone?”

“Yes, Sir.” She whispered as her fingers began to explore deeper.

It is always a challenge to stay focused as our sessions get more intense. But that's what I was getting paid for, so ignored my girl ain't cock and focused on her fingers sliding up and down under they were panties.

Without prompting, I watched her body shift and backed up to let her move, her panties slipped down over her legs and onto the floor where I took several pictures of the abandoned silk. When I looked back up again, she was in Lotus position, the soles of her feet press together, her beautiful toes touching, her legs spread wide, the lips of her pussy sworn and spread as her fingers slid up and down the wet loops.

“Penetrate”

She obeyed me with the right amount of teasing, sooner read and where green and red striped fingernails disappeared inside her body only to be brought back up out wet and slippery to plunge back in again.

“Spread”

Shifting her body again, her feet went wide and her legs were spread and completely open as she laid back on the couch. I knelt on the floor in front of my wife’s best friend and watched her masturbate herself to orgasm through my lens.

She wasn't kidding that there was an independent video being made from the upper corner of her desk. It was purely for legal reasons, but it also proved that she did everything voluntarily. Every touch, every stroke, every penetrating thrust of her fingers that brought her closer and closer to climax was of her own free will and choice. I gave her very little instructions. An occasional tap of my finger on her inner thigh would help keep her spread for good pictures for the light for the movement for the motion.

“Bra”

While her feet were the focus of her client's obsession, she was too perfect to keep covered. The shots that were already taken hinted at her magnificence, but now her piercing came into view, a single diamond through her left nipple. For these there would be an extra fee that he would gladly pay. Her fingers pulled and pinched at the tight brown nipples. As they got larger and larger my cock did the same, swelling within my black slacks, bulging, coating my boxers with pre vum. I zoomed out and shot her beautiful torso, hinting at her face but never revealing it.

Her first and 2nd orgasms were tight and intense and quiet and came from deep within her body. As #3 and 4 rolled over her, I changed my camera settings to catch the blurred fingers the high-speed thrusting, the stroking, the engorged to clit. Each picture was the kinetic frantic motion moment of pleasure. The blanket was dark with wetness, her fingers were smeared with juices, and her lips were bright pink with engorged pleasure. Climax #5 made her call out, half in tender pain and half in frustration.

“I want you to fuck me come on I want you to come inside me I want to fill me up”

“That's not the deal”

“Fuck the deal, I want more.”

“That's not what we agreed to”

‘But that's what I want”

“That’s only what you want now.”

“fuck fuck fuck”

“I'm ready for the final picture.”

She gathered herself back up on the couch and we quickly arranged the blanket to be smooth and pretty while keeping the giant wet spot visible between her legs. This final shot went to a different client account. Premium pricing. She sat up and unbuckled my pants and pulled my belt out and unzipped my slacks.

She repositioned herself I adjusted my camera for one final set of pictures, her feet were snug uptight against her wet and swollen pussy and I had my target zone.

As we agreed she put her hands on her knees and watched me stroke my cock. I wanted to fuck her with every ounce of my body I wanted to come inside her but that was not the deal.

This is where I made my money along with hers and I came and came in rope after rope and coated her feet with cum. My camera was shaky in my hand but the settings would remove the blur and capture everything. 20-30 shots later I was finished.

My cum was on her toenails, white against the dark green and red stripe. She giggled and cried a little bit, then giggled some more and complimented my output.

Still shaking, I stood up, cleaned up with the supplies we learned to have on hand, and then pulled her to her feet.

She kissed me gently on the lips. Temporarily satiated, our rational minds were back in control. She placed the blue panties and bra in a mailing envelope and tucked it into a file cabinet under her desk. She bagged the blanket in a black trash bag and slipped into her sweatpants and shirt. She gave me a wonderful, full-body hug and handed me the trash bag. Getting rid of the evidence was my job.

I packed my gear, kissed her on her forehead, and walked toward the door.  I tapped the digital clock on the wall which said, 4:07.

“Right on time,” I said, and slipped out the door to let her reconfigure before being mom again.

I started up the car and pulled onto Olive street when my phone chimed with a text.

It was a screenshot, a text from Kate.

“Swimng pool closed bad pump-taking kids for burger, back home early.  Need anything”?

As I waited at the light, I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw her staring at me in front of her light blue Prius.