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Blogs > MastrandSlav > Swamp Locked Mountain Folk

Work Out Room  

MastrandSlav 49M/54F
71 posts
9/23/2006 2:05 pm

Last Read:
9/23/2006 2:12 pm
Work Out Room
Thursday after work I found myself in the gym listening to my iPod and attempting to sweat off a year or so of sedentary life. I have been going to the work out room twice a week for almost a month and a half. I really have seen any noticeable change with my waistband as I have continued to sabotage this routine with a really shitty diet of fast food and carb heavy meals.

What I have noticed in this period of a month and a half is that I can fucked longer, faster, and harder. I am almost back to my game performance that had seemed to slack off a little after getting this desk job. I am nearly back to my Porn Star status in the bedroom but that is a self appointed title.

Anyways back to Thursday.

I was twenty minutes into a thirty minute work out on the elliptical trainer... this is my new lover. She gets me all sweaty and panting like a puppy but I digress.

Anyways. A coworker of mine walked in to the gym in her uber tight grey shortie shorts. This was no mild mannered coworker but a lady I had a string of sexual encounters with almost three years ago before I was hired on at my present job. I am guessing that she has fond memories of me denting her cervix as she has said some wildly inappropriate things to other ladies at my work after a few loosing mixed drinks. You have to love work socials.

There I was on this magnificent machine and this lady was starting her work out. I was jamming to my iPod and this allowed me to avoid conversation. I could almost smell the<b> pheromones </font></b>in the air and could instantly detect that she was horny as hell.

Since my short lived relationship with this woman, I have gotten engaged, realized fucking folks where you live is not a smart business practice, and also watched as she has wrapped herself in a completely absurd office love triangle that smells of estrogen and gun oil. But I will digress yet again by saying I don't want any of what she was offering.

Her work out was just for my eyes, four to five blatantly sexual routines on the Body Sculpting that Chuck Norris and Christie Brinkley sell on TV. She capped this ballet of subversive lewdness with a pilate-ish stretch across a monstrous green exercise ball with the cheeks of her ass poking out for my benefit.

No need to hang on to my words in hopes of a breakdown of my defenses because I was able to fend her silent advances off but what I did get out of the flattering encounter of lover past was a new appreciation for the equipment in the gym.

I started to drift off to a special place imaging fucking Sissy on all the different benches and all over the therapeutic exercise balls.

I just might have to sneak her in to the gym here soon.

Have a Nice Weekend.

The R and R Show.

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