Hollys Gym Membership Pt 01

Thanks for bearing with me since I haven't written anything in a while; I've been working on this series for quite some time and am looking forward to sharing it with you this month!

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On Wednesday, my PoliSci professor, who was a total piece of work most of the time, released our class early after a grueling lecture. That meant I could actually go to the yoga class at the campus wellness center, which I'd been adding to and removing from my iPhone calendar for weeks since the semester started.

Before winter break, I'd been a regular at the wellness center, but the notorious senior year spring was kicking my ass. Between applying to law schools, keeping up with my social calendar, and trying to secure a job to keep my parents off my back, I'd managed to gain around 15 pounds. On the plus side, my sister had assured me I carried it well and I didn't disagree; at 5'8" it took more than 15 pounds to drastically change my silhouette. I'd gone up a cup size, at least, not that that would make getting back into yoga any easier. I used to have more of the stereotypical "yoga body," but now I'd filled in with more curves on my hips and thighs.

I sighed. That's exactly the kind of mental state I didn't want to bring into yoga. I needed to get out of my head and into my body, not the other way around. No fixating on how I looked in cobra pose, more fixating on how I felt.

When I reached the massive, modern glass wellness center that dominated the center of campus at 5:15, it was bustling with students who'd just gotten off their jobs or had also managed to sneak out of a class early. There was a lounge area toward the front, where the check-in desk was, and an open-floorplan weight room visible through tall windows behind it. A basketball court over to the right, the swimming center over to the left. Upstairs, there were smaller studios for ballet, yoga, and other activities.

The receptionist -- a peppy redhead wearing a pink sorority T-shirt -- checked me in with my school ID. In a high-pitched voice that matched her entire appearance and vibe, she squealed, "Oh, you're Holly Caldwell! You look just like your sister."

"Caught red-handed." I laughed and put on my best politician smile; I tried to consider any conversation I wanted to get out of experience for my future law-career-turned-senate-run. "How do you know Clare?"

Another big smile. "She's my little!"

"Glad she's in good hands at Kappa Phi Nu." I signed my name on the check-in sheet and glanced at the clock behind the desk. Just to make sure, I asked, "There's still a yoga class at 5:30, right?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. Studio 2B." Her smile dimmed, only by a few watts. "There's a new instructor, though. I've heard it's a little more intense now."

Another quick smile; I wanted to get out of there to guarantee I could get one of the spare mats. I wasn't crazy about the old instructor, anyway. As long as the lights were low and the ambient music just loud enough to hear, I'd be fine. I said, "Thanks for the heads up."

I walked up the stairs that separated the weight room from the machines and found the studio. The lights were dim and orangey warm, although a brighter white light streamed in from the right side, where a half-silvered window overlooked the basketball court.

Since it was still 10 minutes before class started, I found the mat rack full for my choosing. I grabbed one that seemed the least worn and picked a spot in the middle of the room, close enough to be able to see, but deep enough in what would be the crowd to avoid standing out. I wanted to be able to get lost in the flow.

There were only a few other people here: A couple sitting next to each other on matching mats, a guy with hair down to the small of his back, and a girl who still had her headphones in. More people trickled in as I stretched out my muscles a bit and checked my phone. No sign of this mysterious new instructor yet, which I thought was weird. The old instructor was always there super early, greeting everyone as they came in with a "namaste" and a warm smile.

The class filled up gradually until 5:30, its scheduled start time. By 5:35, everyone seemed a little antsy. The thoughts of dinner plans, night classes, and other things being pushed back or even just the class being cut short permeated the air.

At 5:43, the new instructor walked in. He -- and I noticed 'he' immediately because I'd never seen a male yoga instructor here on campus before -- was confident like he either didn't know or didn't care that he was late. In the dim studio lighting, I could really only tell that he was tall and lean, muscular in that way men who do yoga or gymnastics or running are. And he didn't wear a shirt; maybe he come from another class? Or maybe he was just a tool. Hard to tell before he got started.

He rolled out his mat and put on the ambient, vaguely outdoorsy music over the stereo. His voice resonated above it around the studio. "I'm Rowan and I'm in the physio master's program here. I've taken over this class for Lynn while she goes on personal leave for the rest of the semester. Thank you all for coming in today."

The class got started and the secretary girl's words were proven right. The pace was definitely a notch or two or five or ten from the classes I was used to. We whipped between poses fast enough that my muscles were sore before the first half was over. Thankfully, he slowed down around the halfway mark, beginning what I called the "guru walk." Every yoga instructor had their own way of doing it. Some walked around slowly, some paced between students, some never spoke at all.

Rowan was the type to touch. I watched out of the corners of my eyes as he offered quick, corrective touches to shoulders, hips, and necks. Just guiding every person into the right position when their balance or posture slipped out of place.

When we stretched into warrior two, he noticed me. I felt his eyes on me before he even started walking over. I felt the sweat clinging to the back of my neck, right under my ponytail, and absently hoped my sweat hadn't worn through my deodorant yet.

He walked toward me from across the room. I knew why; I'd twinged one of my ankles a few weeks ago and it wasn't healing right. I was overcompensating with my hip to keep my foot in the right spot. As he came closer to me, I got a better look at him. He easily had a head on my 5'8" and kept his chin up, unintimidated by commanding a room full of attentive people at only a year or so older than me. His jaw was sharply defined, with no stubble, acne, or freckles to distract from the clean line of it. I couldn't quite make out the color of his eyes but the smirk that reached them was unmistakable. One of those guys who knew the effect he had on women -- and probably men, too -- and basked in it.

He reached me and, without speaking, placed his hands firmly on my hips. He expertly rotated my posture, his fingers digging in just enough to make my breath hitch. I felt my ankle land where it was supposed to; the pain went away when it was in the right spot. I let out a deep breath. He said, "Good. Perfect."

His hands lingered a few seconds longer. Despite my conscious thoughts, my clit throbbed, just a bit, just briefly. I imagined his hand sliding over from my hips to my ass to my inner thighs. Sliding upwards toward my pussy and teasing me through my clothes. That cut jaw against my neck as he spoke hot and sweaty into my ear.

Jesus, had it really been so long since getting any that I was fantasizing about a yoga teacher, of all things? That was almost more pathetic than my fleeting professor fantasies. I shook my head and brought myself back into the studio. I lost my balance, stumbling back up. Rowan's hands steadied me again as I found my center. "Careful, law school, or you'll hurt yourself."

I was sure he could tell how red my face suddenly was and I prayed he attributed it to the heat of the class and nothing else. The smirk on his face had gone away, though, replaced by a sudden intensity as he looked in my eyes. I quickly got back into my pose and watched carefully as he helped someone else with the next move.

I tried to focus on stretching and breathing but couldn't. It felt like every few poses, Rowan was guiding my hips or shoulders or calves or stomach into the correct spot. I wasn't sure if he was being extra attentive on his own volition or if I was, unconsciously, messing up my positions to bring him back over. He smelled minty, like eucalyptus but without the medicinal quality. Just clean and fresh against the sweat-soaked studio stench. Meanwhile, I was a sweaty mess multiplied by the fact that I was starting to get nervous at the way his stubble itched at my skin when he leaned to readjust me and the way his hands were firm and guiding.

By the time the class was over, I was drenched and ready for a shower. The womens' communal showers at the gym were bustling since it was about thirty minutes until the next block of classes started out on campus. Not wanting to wait, I took a deep breath and went to the gender-neutral showers down the hall. They were smaller and quieter since their purpose was to serve gender non-conforming students, but anyone was allowed to use them as long as they were okay with anyone being in there.

Thankfully, the showers were empty when I arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I'd be able to relax and steam off before heading back home for dinner. I went to the furthest shower, pulled the curtain aside, and stripped off my clothes. I dropped them on the little bench outside of the shower and waited for the water to heat up. I liked my showers hot.

While the water warmed and I sat, my thoughts drifted back to Rowan. I almost rolled my eyes at the fact that I was horny enough to fantasize about a total stranger. I tried to distract myself. Keep my mind off of things that shouldn't be in there. The mirror across from the bench reflected my body back to me. I spread my legs and admired myself.

I'd always thought I had a cute vulva. Pussy. Cunt. My boyfriends in the past always laughed at my aversion to using vulgar words for my own anatomy, but it seemed to fit at that moment. A nice, swollen clit that sat proudly above my labia, which I also thought were pretty cute as far as lady bits I'd seen in the past. Lately, I had been keeping my pubic hair neatly trimmed, shaved only around my entrance and clit. I hadn't been getting a ton of action, so my preference for a little womanly hair took precedence over any of the baby smooth trends going around.

My hands wandered over my breasts and waist and hips. I liked to admire myself like this; I started when a therapist recommended that I spend more time thinking positive thoughts about my body or whatever. But it quickly became a part of my masturbation routine. I pinched and then rolled my nipples, which were soft from the steam but quickly became hard from the stimulation. My back arched a little at the sensation.

Blush rose into my cheeks as my fingers went lower to my thighs, where they squeezed hard. I imagined Rowan's hands -- firm, slightly calloused -- in their place. Squeezing just hard enough to leave purpling bruises on my stretch-marked skin. I imagined him on his knees in front of me, one hand reaching up to my neck to keep me quiet as he ravished my pussy with his tongue.

I began to touch myself at the thought. Slow circles around my clit that sped up as the fantasy heightened. In my mind's eye, he bit and sucked on my thighs before diving in, sticking two fingers inside of me while eating me out with the same intention and precision as he used to correct my movements in yoga class.

Right when I was close, I heard the door open with a squeak and shut with a slam. My skin bristled as my orgasm stymied right before its peak. I gasped loud enough that the footsteps stopped. Embarrassed, I grabbed my towel and prepared to leave just to get the hell out of there. I hastily dressed again, pussy now soaking through my underwear, and I left the shower stall, keeping my head down as I went toward the door.

I practically slammed into Rowan, who reached his hand out to catch my shoulder.

"Holly, right?"

"Yes." I was blushing deeply and couldn't help it despite my desire to. "Who told you my name?"

"The girl at the front desk. I saw you come in while I was leaving my other class. I have to say you caught my eye."

My words were getting caught in my throat as he closed the space between us, but I managed to squeak out, "Why's that?"

"You looked like a total hardass who I could really help loosen up in class."

"I'm being serious."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes stood right in front of me now, practically forcing me to sit on the countertop. "Just those doe eyes and that 'fuck me now, please' mouth of yours."

My breath stopped in my throat and burned in my lungs. I couldn't get out a response before he asked, "What are you doing in here anyway?"

I stammered, "Uh, just showering before my next, ah, thing."

He reached out a finger and twirled some of my hair around it. "Your hair's dry, Holly. What were you really doing? And were you thinking about me while you did it?"

His fingers trailed down my cheek to the neckline of my shirt. I hadn't put on my bra and my nipples poked out at attention. "I- um- well- yes."

"I figured. I can always tell which girls want me during class. The way your backs arch into my hand, your head leans into my shoulder. The way your sweat smells."

Regaining some of my composure, I said, "So you do this often?"

"Often enough to know what works. You strike me as a little whore, you know? The kind who likes to be taken. Hard. Confidently. " He leaned in close, our faces millimeters apart. In the cool fluorescents of the shower, I could finally tell that his eyes were steely gray. His eyes didn't fall from mine for a second, "So, Holly, do I have your permission to do whatever the fuck I want with you?"

"I think that sounds like a good idea."

"And I think that sounds like a yes."

Without another word, he bent me over the counter and yanked my shorts and panties down. I thought, for a second, that he was going to fuck me right then and there without so much as kissing me first. Yank my thong aside and stick his cock in, no romance or pretense. I was wet enough, frankly. Almost embarrassingly so. And I wanted it, too. It was impossible not to since I felt the outline of his cock -- large and imposing and hard -- against my bare ass.

But, no. Instead, he ran his hands around the curve of my ass, almost lovingly, almost reverent. I got the impression from that one touch that he intended to take his time as if we weren't in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in on us any time. He rubbed slow circles on my skin and then--

I gasped as he spanked me. Hard.

Suddenly I was painfully aware of the door behind him -- the one that could open at any second. I knew not too many people used these showers, but there was always the possibility of someone walking right in and seeing me exposed, a red handprint on my ass for all to see.

But when he hit me again, the thought left my mind. The stinging pain of it radiated down my thighs and up my back. He spanked me again. And again. And again. Each time, he let out a soft grunt that made my stomach flutter. Heat spread over my entire behind and I flinched with every impact.

"That's better, isn't it?" Absentmindedly, to himself, he said, "Maybe I should just take your ass right now."

I whimpered at the idea. I'd never been fucked in the ass before but the idea had always turned me on, especially if I were double penetrated. But right now?

He called his own bluff and turned me around. For the first time, he kissed me. I'd been kissed a lot of times, but never quite like this. It started softly, his lips untensed against mine. But he quickly got more forceful, his mouth opening mine and tangling our tongues together He grabbed my lower lip in between his teeth and then bit down almost hard enough to draw blood. I matched his aggression by grabbing at the waistband of his joggers and moving to pull them down.

He stopped kissing me, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them behind me on the counter. I looked up into his eyes. "What?"

"We're not there yet." He gave me a soft kiss and added, "Keep your hands behind your back."

Rowan lifted me up a few inches and sat me squarely on the counter. He gently pushed my knees apart and slide my half-on shorts and panties all the way down, discarding them on the floor next to him. I linked my hands together behind me and waited. He looked at my pussy carefully, inhaling the scent and enjoying the view. "God, you have a gorgeous cunt."

"Thank you." I giggled like a goddamn flustered schoolgirl. "Kind of wish I'd actually showered before this, though."

He took a deep breath and, in a low growly voice, said, "I don't. I can't wait to taste. But first..."

He let out a contented sigh and kissed my thigh softly. Then more ardently. Then he sucked and bit my flesh, leaving reddish hickies surrounded by bite markers up my thighs in the direction of my clit. Every single touch of his mouth sent a sighing, shaky breath out of my mouth. By the time he finally, finally touched his tongue to my clit, I was squirming with anticipation.

Rowan wasn't going to let me cum quickly, though, no matter how badly I wanted to. He lapped at my clit, taking his sweet time exploring every millimeter. He reached up and pulled back the hood, exposing the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath. He held his tongue soft and flat and barely touched me. But, completely exposed, that tiny little touch made my whole body ache for more.

It wasn't like when I touched myself, which was a slow and steady climb towards a peak. Rowan going down on me with my clit's hood pulled back was more like electric spikes every few seconds, each one stronger than the last.

I bucked my hips against his face and whined, "Please."

He chuckled against my pussy but didn't let up, keeping his consistent, agonizingly slow pace against me. I felt a familiar yet unfamiliar spark burning at the base of my abdomen as my muscles all began to tighten. The feeling was warm and tight as usual but sharper now and building more slowly. Like slowly clenching a fist and trying not to go to fist.

Right as I reached the edge, he slowed even more, and the tension burst inside of me. His slowness kept me at the peak for what felt like forever. Instead of a single firework, it was the entire Fourth of July. My hips ground against his face without my control and he held me tight to him, not letting up even when I was gasping and practically wrestling my way out of his grip from the intensity.

Finally, he let up and stood to kiss me. While I tasted myself on his tongue, he untied the drawstring of his joggers and said against my lips, "I'm going to fuck you now. Are you on birth control?"

Still out of breath, I replied, "Yes."

"Good."

He dropped his joggers, revealing a cock as gorgeous as the rest of him. Not too big but definitely big enough, maybe six or seven inches. But he was thick enough to make me nervous -- or, at least, I would be if I weren't already so wet and so unwound. He reached out and took my hand in his, then placed it on his cock. I couldn't get my fingers all the way around and just imagined the way it would feel pressing inside me.

He pushed forward a tiny bit, positioning himself right at my entrance. He kissed me one more time and said, "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes," I said with all the confidence I could muster when I'd just been made into jello. "Please."

"Alright then. Say something nasty to me, little slut, or I'll put this away right now."

"Shit, okay, I'll try." Dirty talk wasn't exactly my strong suit. Any time a guy asked I just got nervous and clammed up, and that was exactly what was happening now. "I can't think with-"