What I Never Told My Husband About the Gym

I had been shut up at home for almost three years, working in front of the same screen, in the same chair, barely seeing anyone. My body was feeling the effects: my pants fit a little tighter, my back hurt, my energy was nowhere to be found. It was Andrés, my husband, who encouraged me to find a gym nearby. I did it without many expectations.

On the first day, Diego helped me.

He was tall, dark-haired, with dark eyes and a square jaw that gave him a serious look until he smiled. In his mid-thirties, athletic without being over the top, with that kind of calm charisma that makes people feel good without quite knowing why. He explained the machines to me, adjusted my posture in the squat, asked me about my goals. Everything was completely professional.

I was thirty-two, a little short, fair-skinned, with wide hips and dark hair that I almost always wore tied up. I didn’t consider myself anything special, but Diego looked at me when I spoke, and that was already something.

The first few months passed slowly. I learned the routine, began to notice small changes in my body, and without realizing it I also started making a little more of an effort before going to the gym. Just a little. It wasn’t necessary, I told myself. It was just habit.

Diego made comments that in another context would have been harmless: “you seem stronger this week,” “great progress,” “that exercise really suits you.” Nothing he couldn’t have said to any other client. But there was something in his tone when he said it to me, or maybe I was inventing it.

I started wanting him in silence, and the silence became harder and harder to keep.

***

One night I had a dream about him so vivid I could barely get back to sleep. In the dream we were in the gym, but empty, with no music or other clients. He was correcting my posture from behind, his big hands on my hips, and I felt his hard cock pressing against the fabric of my shorts, outlining my ass like a warning. He slipped a hand inside my shorts, two thick fingers forcing their way between my already soaked lips, and whispered in my ear how wet I was. I woke up shaken, my heart racing, my thighs sticky and my cunt throbbing as if he had really just touched me. I knew I had crossed some kind of invisible line.

From then on everything was different. I looked at him differently. It was hard for me to focus when he came over to help me. More than once I found myself fantasizing about what would happen if I stayed alone with him when he closed up, with his cock in my mouth while I was on my knees on the rubber floor.

One day, without planning it, I told him.

I don’t know exactly why I did it. I suppose I’d been carrying it alone for weeks and at some point it had to come out. I told him I had dreamed about him, that he didn’t need details, that I just wanted him to know that this tension existed on my side. I was expecting an awkward response, maybe a professional apology, a polite smile to shut the matter down forever.

Instead, he looked at me steadily for a moment and said:

—You’re not the only one who notices. I’ve been getting hard every time I bend down to correct your posture for weeks.

And that’s how it all started.

***

The conversations changed tone. Not all at once, but little by little, like when water starts to boil and you don’t realize it until it’s already bubbling. Messages after training sessions, a question that began about the routine and ended up becoming something completely different. I found myself looking at my phone more than usual, waiting for his reply with an anxiety I recognized from my teenage years and never thought I’d feel again.

I masturbated thinking about him more than once. Many more than once. I’d put two fingers in my cunt while I imagined his cock filling me, and with the other hand I’d pinch my nipples until they hurt. I invented scenarios: the mat room in the back with him fucking me doggy-style, the empty locker room on a Monday morning with my face flattened against the cold tiles, the spinning room with the shutter halfway down and me riding him on one of the bikes. My imagination did the work I wouldn’t allow myself to do in reality, and reality waited patiently for its turn.

Andrés noticed nothing. Or didn’t want to notice. We were fine, we were functional, we loved each other in our own way. But it had been a long time since we had that kind of electricity, that tension that makes the air between two people feel heavier.

***

When Andrés told me he had a five-day work trip, something shifted in my chest.

This is the opportunity.

I rejected it immediately. I told myself it was madness, that I wasn’t going to do anything, that desire was one thing and action was something very different. I repeated that to myself for days. And on the fourth day, I texted Diego.

Just a brief message: “My husband is away until Thursday.”

He replied in less than a minute: “When can you come?”

***

I got ready with trembling hands. I showered slowly, tried to calm myself under the hot water, and didn’t quite manage it. I shaved my whole cunt with the razor, leaving it smooth, and just running my fingers over it to check, I could feel how slippery it already was. I put on a light dress that had nothing special about it, the first thing I found. I didn’t wear underwear. Not because it was a calculated gesture, but because I was already too wet for it to make sense and because I suspected time was going to be limited.

I stepped out onto the street with my hair still damp.

The walk to the gym took ten minutes that felt like an hour. I kept thinking about turning back, about making up some excuse, about texting him that I felt sick. And at the same time my feet kept moving forward, as if they had a mind of their own and had made the decision without consulting me. I felt every step against my naked cunt, the dress fabric rubbing my erect nipples, and by the time I reached the corner my thighs were sticky with my own juices.

From the corner I saw him at the door, arms crossed, with a calm expression. He nodded at me. I glanced up and down the street without really knowing why, waved from afar with a smile, and crossed over.

—I thought you weren’t going to come —he said as he closed the door behind me.

—I thought that too —I answered.

***

There was no more conversation.

As soon as he locked the door, he took my arm, turned me around, and kissed me. It wasn’t a tentative kiss or a question. It was direct, sure, with his hands on my waist and then on my ass, squeezing. He shoved his tongue deep into my mouth and I sucked on it as if I’d been starving for this for months. His hands hiked my dress up from behind and found my bare ass. He noticed right away that I wasn’t wearing anything under the dress and made a deep sound that wasn’t exactly a word.

—How considerate —he murmured against my mouth. He slid one hand between my legs from the front, without ceremony, and his fingers sank into my soaked cunt in one stroke—. And how wet you are, fuck.

—I’ve been like this since I left home —I told him, my voice breaking.

He slid two fingers in to the knuckles and curled them upward, seeking me out inside. He pulled them out and pushed them back in, out and back in, while his thumb pressed my clit in slow circles. I opened myself against his hand without any shame, legs apart there in front of the gym door, moaning softly into his mouth. I laughed, nervous, between moan and moan, and that moment of laughter was the only thing I needed to stop trembling completely.

He took me to the back, to the room they used for floor classes, with blue mats stacked against one wall. He took three from the stack and laid them out on the floor. He made me kneel. He yanked down his tracksuit pants and boxers in one motion and his cock sprang out, hard, heavy, pointing at my face. I paused for a second. It was big, noticeably big, thick at the base and with a wide, dark-purple head swollen so much I had that absurd instant when the brain does quick calculations about the viability of what is about to happen.

I breathed. I took it in my hand —I couldn’t fit it all in one hand, I had to use both— and brought it to my mouth. I gave it a long lick first, from the base to the tip, following the thick vein running underneath it, and when I reached the top I licked the clear drop shining there. It tasted salty, thick. I heard him blow out air through his nose.

—Put it in your mouth —he asked, his voice rough, and I obeyed.

I opened my jaw wide and took it in. It was heavy, smooth, and barely fit, but I managed. I started slowly, covering only the head, playing with my tongue under the glans. Then I went lower and lower until I felt it at the back of my throat and had to pull back so I wouldn’t choke. I tried again. And again. Saliva started running down my chin, dripping onto my tits inside the dress. With one hand I caressed his balls, heavy and warm in my palm, and with the other I squeezed the base while I sucked.

Diego grabbed my hair, not to force me, but to set the pace. He thrust his cock into me as far as I could take it and pulled it out, letting me breathe, then pushed back in. I looked up at him from below, mouth full, eyes watering, and he let out a low groan that made me clench my thighs.

—Fuck, you suck it so well —he murmured—. Like you’ve wanted it for months.

Months. Entire months. I confirmed it with my eyes, without taking him out of my mouth.

***

When he felt I was about to come, he yanked it out of my mouth. He laid me down on the mats.

He pushed my dress up to my neck, leaving my tits bare, and sucked my nipples one after the other while he opened my legs with his knee. He spread my legs without hurry but without pause, positioned himself between them, and ran the head of his cock over my whole cunt, soaking it well in my fluids, sliding it up and down, pressing my clit with the tip until I lifted my hips looking for him. He looked at me for a second as if confirming something, and then he entered.

He went in in one thrust, all the way to the hilt.

I felt everything at once: the size, the depth, a pressure that brushed against pain but wasn’t pain, something more complex for which I couldn’t find the exact name. He filled me completely, opened me up, touched something inside me that Andrés had never reached. I was left speechless. Not because he asked me to be, but because my body simply couldn’t find the way to words. I could only feel him pull almost all the way out and then plunge back in to the hilt, harder each time.

Diego moved with a steady rhythm he knew how to keep. He rammed into me to the hilt and pulled out slowly, letting me feel every centimeter going in and out. He kissed me while he did it, grabbed my hip with one hand and my shoulder with the other to brace himself and push deeper. Every so often he asked me in a low voice if I was okay.

—Yes —was all I could manage—. Yes, yes, harder.

More than okay. Completely out of my mind and at the same time more present than ever in my own body.

He sped up. Each thrust tore a moan from me that bounced off the empty walls of the room. He sucked on my neck, bit my shoulder without leaving a mark, shoved three fingers into my mouth so I could suck them while he fucked me. When he pulled his fingers out, shining with saliva, he took them down and started rubbing my clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. I came like that, with him inside me and his hand on top, arching against the mat, clenching his cock with my cunt so hard he let out a curse through his teeth.

—Fuck, like that, come on my cock —he said in my ear, never stopping—. Let it show.

And I came again almost right after, shaking all over.

***

He put me on all fours. In front of us was a large mirror they used so students could correct their posture. The irony wasn’t lost on me. He asked me to look at it, not to close my eyes, and I obeyed because at that moment I would have obeyed anything that wasn’t stopping.

I could see us both: him standing behind me, focused, sweat beginning to shine on his chest; me with my dress hiked up to my waist, my knuckles white as I gripped the mat, my face I barely recognized. He grabbed his cock with his hand, ran it over my parted lips from behind, and entered me again, this time from behind, sinking all the way in. In the mirror I watched my own cunt open up to swallow him, watched his cock emerge shining completely from my juices and go back in until it vanished.

He held my hair with one hand, not violently, but with that firmness that reminds you someone else has control for a while. He pulled it back until I arched my back and offered him more. He gave me a slap on the ass, open and clean, and the sound filled the empty room. My skin burned where his hand marked me red at once.

I liked it more than I expected. I asked him for more out loud.

—Again.

He gave me another, harder one. And another. He fucked me and spanked me at the same time, and I pushed my ass back asking for more of both. In the mirror I saw my tits swaying with every thrust, my mouth open, my eyes half-closed, and seeing my own face like that —the face of a woman who is being fucked right— made me squeeze him inside me again.

—It’s all on show —he told me, looking too through the mirror—. How your cunt swallows it. How much you want it.

—I want it —I panted—. All of it.

He slipped his thumb, wet with saliva, into my ass while he kept fucking my cunt, and I cried out against the mat with a new intensity, feeling full everywhere at once.

***

We changed positions a couple more times. He laid me on my back and put my legs over his shoulders, folding me almost in two, and from there he drove into me from top to bottom with all the weight of his body. We tried something with my legs crossed over his shoulder that made him feel different, deeper, hitting a spot that made me see white dots, and at that point I did make sounds I wouldn’t have been able to control even if I’d tried. I moaned, I shouted, I begged him not to stop, I told him filthy things I didn’t even know I had stored away somewhere. He sped up when he heard me, as if that were an instruction he understood perfectly.

I got on top. I straddled him, guided his cock with my hand until I had it at my entrance, and let myself sink down slowly to the hilt. I started moving, up and down, bracing my hands on his chest, and he looked up at me from below, grabbing my tits, pinching my nipples between his fingers. He thrust upward every time I came down, syncing with me, and the wet sound of our bodies slamming together filled the room. I touched my clit myself while I rode him, and I came for the third time, clenching him so hard he had to stop me for a moment, gripping my hips so he wouldn’t come too.

Sweat gleamed on his forehead, neck, chest. His physical condition was obvious: the stamina, the consistency, the sustained energy. It surprised me in the best possible way.

In the end he lifted me off him carefully, laid me back down on my back, knelt over my breasts and jerked his cock with his fist at a furious pace, staring at me. I held his balls with one hand and opened my mouth expectantly, sticking out my tongue. He pulled back and finished on my belly and tits, with thick, hot spurts landing on me one after another, the last reaching all the way to my neck. He came a lot and for a long time, growling, his cock throbbing between his fingers. When he was done, he ran the wet head over my lips and I licked it, sucking the last drops from him.

We stayed still for a moment, both breathing hard, without speaking. I ran a finger over my stomach, gathering his thick semen, and brought it to my mouth without thinking too much about it.

—Shower —he said, standing up and watching me do that.

—Shower —I repeated.

***

The shower felt good. The hot water brought back something like calm, and talking there was easier than talking with clothes on: without the formal weight of what had just happened, without having to look at each other from a distance. We joked a little. He soaped my back, not as a romantic gesture but as something natural and unpretentious, and I liked that even more than the gesture itself. He brought his soapy hands around to the front, cupped my tits, pinched my nipples again, and went lower, between my legs, cleaning me slowly where his semen mixed with my own fluids. I leaned back against his chest, feeling his cock again half-hard against my ass, and sighed.

We got out, dried off, got dressed. There were no promises or declarations or uncomfortable questions about what it all meant. We said goodbye at the door with a brief kiss and I stepped out onto the street.

The night air was cool. I walked home slowly, listening to my own footsteps, feeling my cunt swollen and my ass still burning from the slap.

***

The weekend was strange in a pleasant way. Every time my mind went back to the gym, to the mirror, to his hands on my hips, to his cock filling me to the hilt, I felt a wave of heat that surprised me in the most unexpected moments: washing dishes, reading on the sofa, trying to fall asleep. I masturbated twice on Saturday and once on Sunday, slipping in three fingers and fantasizing about having him all the way inside me again, and all three times I came fast, almost effortlessly, biting the pillow so I wouldn’t scream.

Andrés came back on Wednesday, a day earlier than expected. He was tired from the trip but in a good mood, and that night, in our bed, I took advantage of all that accumulated energy in a way that pleasantly surprised him. I climbed on top of him before he had time to react, sucked his cock like I hadn’t in years, took it myself, rode him until he came inside me and asked for more. He didn’t ask questions. I didn’t give explanations either.

Some secrets are better left where they are.

***

I kept going to the gym. Diego kept being my trainer. Things went back to being as they had been on the surface, with that invisible difference only the two of us noticed: a look lingering a second longer than necessary, a smile that tasted like something specific and past, a hand lingering an extra instant while adjusting my posture at the hip.

We didn’t do it again. We also didn’t say out loud that we wouldn’t.

We left it there, suspended, like those conversations that are interrupted at the best moment and don’t need to end in order to have been absolutely worth it.