I had always wondered what was in the unused wing of the Auxiliary Gym. The building was mostly in a state of being condemned anyway, so it wasn’t exactly exploratory material. However, when it was just the two of us there was hardly any reason not to explore. The dilapidated building smelled of old sweat, sweetened by the smell of dust, and victories long forgotten. The dark stairs squeaked as though trying to alert all in the building that someone was upon them. In the old locker room, some of the flooring was starting to sink from time, and the lockers were abused with dents from losses vented.
The little room off the side of the locker room seemed to step a bit out of time. The bright orange massage table seemed to glow a welcome. It called to me. A ray of light shed down on it from a dusty, cobweb-crossed window. I could hear the dancers laughing and talking as they warmed up, above us. We had finished our use of the gym, you and I. No one had showed up for the lesson so I had received a private one. The lesson time was over now, however. You were no longer my coach; it was past 8. We were equal again, standing there in that sport therapy room, listening to feet pound around aimlessly up stairs.
Oh, that table called to me. A fantasy began to spin in my mind, unbidden. The adrenaline already awakening my system from the swordplay, and the smell of you behind me triggered the strangest things. In a flash of a moment, that room ensnared me and I could see a nurse rubbing the tension out of a strong young man’s back, and I knew she was wishing dearly she could fuck him. I knew how she felt; I wanted to fuck him too. Once again the room was empty. I almost told you what I saw, but I didn’t want to spoil the fantasy. I wanted to keep it.
I felt you pause too. I felt you see the potential that the ugly orange table had. I wondered what you saw. I wondered for a moment if the table would be at a good height for fellatio. I felt my lips burn at the thought, and licked them to cool the heat. I looked into your eyes. I wasn’t the only one with thoughts of passion roaring in my mind. Things not supposed to be done turned you on. Some how that table was calling to us, and it is always rude to ignore voices.
I hooked my arms around your neck and kissed you. I knew where to press my body, so that you would know my thought. I had to stand on my toes for a second before you realized what I was doing and held me hard enough to support my balance. I teased the tongue out of your mouth to suck on it, and breathed in drying sweat, cotton shirts and a bit of shampoo. The breath smelled warm, and friendly like moist sugar cookies, fresh out of the oven. I wasn’t hungry for baked goods though.
I let your tongue slip from my lips, and I gave you a longing look, and your fantastic blue eyes accepted my offer. If the rest of you didn’t at that point was insignificant. Your eyes welcomed my invitation. I kissed you again, and I ran my hands up the back of your shirt. You were welcomingly warm, and skin was just damp enough to be soft instead of wet. I could feel every muscle in your back tense up and relax. Some part of you was still struggling to handle the fact that there were people up stairs and that should they come down stairs, things might get really exciting. By the time I was nibbling your ear, I think you had forgotten about them, or perhaps were excited that yes, we may get caught.
I slipped my hands just below the rim of your workout pants, along the small of your back. You have a fantastic ass, rounded enough to be there, small enough to compliment your thin frame and soft as two ripe peaches. I ran my figures along the hips of your slacks, over the hard bone of your hips, the soft patch below your belly. I felt you breathe in suddenly, and twitch at the ticklish spot.
