What Happened in the Locker Rooms That Monday

It was Monday at seven in the morning when Andrés pushed open the gym’s glass door. The November cold was still clutching at his neck, but inside it smelled of new rubber and disinfectant, and the LED lights lit up an almost empty room. He liked that hour. At that hour there were no witnesses to the fact that he had spent twenty minutes more motivated to go to the gym than to the office.

He’d been going three days a week for eight months. Since Carmen left him, or since he let Carmen leave, depending on the day and the mood he woke up in. Four years of relationship evaporated in a twenty-minute conversation in the kitchen. After that came work, the empty apartment, and nights staring at the ceiling. The gym was his GP’s idea: “You need routine, Andrés. You need to move.” He picked the closest gym to work without thinking much more about it.

Valeria was the reason he hadn’t missed a single Monday since then.

Twenty-eight years old, certified personal trainer, Venezuelan raised in Málaga. Dark brown hair, straight, always tied back in a high ponytail that left her neck bare. Tall and athletic, with the kind of body that shows real work: defined shoulders, long strong legs, a waist that tapered in from wide hips. She always wore navy leggings and a gray tank top that didn’t even reach her navel. She had the habit of folding her arms when she was thinking, and a small scar above her left eyebrow from a bike fall she never told him about but that he’d asked her about once, and she’d answered with a “when I was little” and nothing else.

Andrés knew all that because he stared at her too much. And she knew it.

That morning the warm-up was on the leg press machine. Andrés had loaded too much weight on the right side and hadn’t noticed. Valeria came over to adjust it without warning, crouched down in front of the machine and removed the extra plate. When she stood up, she was turned away from him for a second, leaning forward to check the setup, and the leggings tightened in the only way leggings can tighten. Her round ass, split in two by the center seam, was a foot from his face, and he could even see the bulge of her cunt pressed against the fabric.

He couldn’t stop it.

When Valeria turned around, she saw it immediately. The erection outlined under his workout shorts, the hard cock pushing the fabric up with no possible disguise. Andrés grabbed the towel from the side bar and laid it over his legs, but it was already too late. She looked him in the eye. He expected discomfort, or that cold professionalism of someone who changes the subject without saying anything, or that she’d simply look away. He didn’t expect what came next.

—Eight months —Valeria said, without breaking eye contact—. You’ve been like this for eight months and you haven’t said anything.

Andrés couldn’t find the words.

—This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed —she went on. The room was still empty. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning and the distant beep of a cardio machine at the back—. Do you know how many times I’ve seen it straining against your shorts without saying a word?

—Valeria, look, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just that sometimes…

She lifted a hand to silence him.

—I’m not complaining. —She lowered her voice—. I’m saying it happens to me too. That I’ve spent weeks soaking my panties every time I correct your squat. And that today we have forty minutes before anyone else shows up. The women’s locker room is empty at this hour.

Andrés looked at her for a full three seconds, unmoving.

—What exactly are you saying?

Valeria picked up her bottle from the floor.

—That you have thirty seconds to decide whether you finish the workout or come fuck me in the locker room. And if you come, what happens in there doesn’t leave in there. Understand?

He understood perfectly.

***

The women’s locker room smelled different. Warmer, with a vanilla air freshener mixed with something clean and damp. The lockers were gray, the benches dark wood, the lights a little dimmer than in the main room. Valeria locked the entrance with a quick motion and turned to face him.

—Take off your shirt.

Andrés obeyed. She looked at him the way you look at something you’ve wanted to see for a long time, with the same clinical attention she’d used to assess his posture for eight months, but different. No concealment. Then she stripped off her tank top in one pull, unclasped her sports bra, and dropped it onto the bench. Her tits sprang free, bigger than he’d imagined under the shirt, firm, with dark erect nipples pointing straight at him. She undid her ponytail and her dark hair fell over her shoulders.

—Sit there.

He sat on the bench. She slid her leggings down without rushing, folded them on the bench beside her, and stood in front of him in tiny black panties, soaked through in the front, the fabric stuck to her cunt and showing every fold. She made no move to continue yet. She just looked at him. Calculating.

—How long has it been since you last got laid? —she asked.

—Eight months —he answered.

—Too long. It shows.

—Yeah.

She stepped closer until she was standing between his knees. She put her hands on his shoulders and slowly brought them down his chest, then slipped one under the elastic of his shorts. She grabbed his cock directly, without fuss, and squeezed, measuring its size with her palm. Andrés bit his lip. She nodded slowly, satisfied, and yanked his shorts down to his knees. His cock sprang rigid against his stomach, the tip shining.

—Thank God —she murmured—. I’ve been imagining it for weeks.

She took him in her right hand, closing her fist around the base, and started to jerk him off slowly, squeezing firmly, watching his face as she did it. With her thumb she spread the moisture from the tip all over the head. Andrés kept his hands still on her hips, not knowing whether to squeeze or not.

—So I’m not going to tell you this is weird —she said—. I’m going to tell you that you’ve spent eight months staring at my ass and tits, and today you’re going to fuck me until you can’t anymore.

She kissed him. Calmly, with no urgency, biting his lower lip when she pulled away, never letting go of his cock for even a second. Andrés wrapped one hand around her waist and with the other grabbed a breast, pinching her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. She exhaled through her nose, closed her eyes for a moment, and squeezed his cock harder.

—Suck my tits.

Andrés lowered his mouth and sealed his lips around her right nipple, sucking hard, nibbling the tip. She arched her back and buried her free hand in his hair. He moved to the other one, leaving the first shining with saliva, and when he bit the second nipple he heard her moan for the first time, a low sound that vibrated in her throat.

She pulled away, put a hand on his shoulder to push him down.

—On your knees. Eat my pussy.

He knelt on the cold tile floor. Valeria pulled her soaked panties down to her ankles, kicked them aside, and braced herself against the bench, spreading her legs. He saw her cunt up close for the first time: shaved, swollen, the lips parted and shining with moisture, the clit peeking out between the folds, hard. He put his hands on the inner part of her thighs, spread them wider, and buried his face. He ran his tongue all the way from the bottom up to the clit, a long flat lick that made her gasp.

—That’s it, fuck —she whispered—. Right there.

Andrés set himself to sucking her clit with his lips closed, pulling at it with a soft, rhythmic suction, while he slid two fingers into her cunt. She was so wet the fingers went in with no resistance, squeezing around them, hot and slippery. He started moving them upward with his fingertips, seeking the rough spot behind the bone, while still sucking her clit.

Valeria clamped her legs around his head. She grabbed his hair with both hands and started grinding her cunt against his mouth, controlling the rhythm from above with the same efficiency she brought to anything else she did. He let her, sucking whatever she gave him, his fingers moving inside her faster.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…

It took less time than he expected. When she came, she did it with her legs tight around his head and a muffled sound that bounced off the tiled walls and hung in the silence afterward. Her stomach jerked, her thighs tensed, and he felt her cunt clenching in spasms around his fingers. Andrés didn’t stop until she pulled his hair back, trembling.

***

Valeria needed a minute. She stayed seated with her eyes closed, breathing slowly, her tits rising and falling. Andrés waited on his knees, mouth and chin shining, not knowing whether to stand or stay still. The cold floor had already numbed his knees and his cock hurt from being so hard.

—Get up —she said—. Take the rest off.

He removed the shorts and underwear the rest of the way. She looked at him with the same calm she’d shown all morning, eyes fixed on the cock hanging rigid against his stomach, and nodded.

—Stand up. Back against the lockers.

He obeyed. Valeria knelt in front of him and took him into her mouth without warning, all the way down, until he felt her throat tightening around the tip. Andrés slammed his shoulder blades against the metal and had to grab the edge of a locker to keep his knees from buckling. She was slow and deliberate, in no rush, with that methodical concentration he knew from the sessions. She pulled his cock out all the way, spit on it, pushed it back in to the hilt. She licked his balls one by one, took them into her mouth. She swallowed him again down to the base, her nose pressed to his pubic hair, and held there for a few seconds looking up at him.

—Fuck, Valeria…

She kept going, one hand jerking the base in time with her mouth, the other weighing his balls. When she felt he was too close, she yanked him out and squeezed hard at the base to stop him from coming.

—Not yet. I want you to come inside me.

She stood up and gently turned him around.

—Face me. I want to see your face when you come.

She straddled him, his back against the cold lockers, and guided his cock to her cunt with her hand. She sank down slowly, letting herself be impaled centimeter by centimeter, moaning as she filled herself. Andrés felt her tight, burning, dripping inside. She stayed still for a second with his cock buried all the way in, settling in, then started moving. Slow at first, in long clean rises, letting him get used to it, feeling the space between them disappear. Andrés buried his face between her tits, sucked her nipples, breathed against her skin. The cold metal of the lockers pressed into his back every time she came down.

—Open your eyes —she said—. Watch me fuck you.

He looked at her. She held his gaze without blinking as she sped up, bouncing on his cock with her hands on his shoulders, her hips moving in short firm circles as if she were correcting him in a difficult posture. Her tits bounced at the level of his face. The slapping, wet sound of her soaked cunt swallowing his cock again and again was perfectly audible, a filthy wet sound echoing off the tiles.

—Grab my ass. Hard.

Andrés dug his hands into her ass cheeks, spread them, lifted her and brought her back down onto his cock, setting the rhythm from below. She let herself be carried, mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

—Like that, like that, harder, shove your cock all the way in…

Andrés held her by the hips and drove up from below, fucking into her hard, the lockers thundering against his back every time he buried himself all the way in. She let out a longer, sharper moan, and he felt her cunt start clenching around him again.

—I’m going to come, fuck, don’t stop —he panted in her ear—. Come inside me, come inside me.

When he came, he lost control, emptying into her in long convulsions, with a sound that escaped him too loud and echoed between the tiled walls. He felt her clench in spasms around his cock, swallowing every spurt, while she bit his neck to muffle her own cry.

Valeria didn’t move. She stayed impaled, still, with her palms flat on his back, feeling how he kept emptying himself inside her in weaker and weaker pulses.

—Good —she said simply—. Very good.

She stood up slowly and he saw semen starting to run down the inside of her thigh before she ran her fingers through her cunt and brought them to her mouth.

***

The open showers were at the back, separated from the locker room by a half-height wall. Valeria turned the tap on until steam began to rise and stepped in without waiting. Andrés went after her.

The hot water erased the last forty minutes and at the same time made them more concrete. Valeria stood under the stream with her face raised, dark hair plastered to her neck, water running between her breasts and down her stomach. He remained a step behind, letting the water fall on his shoulders, not exactly sure what his role was at that moment.

—Come here —she said.

She put her hands on his chest, made him turn around, pressed herself against his back. Water fell between them. She ran soapy hands over his chest, slid one down his stomach to grab his cock again. She squeezed it, jerked him off slowly under the water, and felt him harden again in her hand before he fully realized it. Valeria felt it too, and smiled against the back of his neck.

—Again. Brace yourself against the wall.

Andrés placed his palms against the wet tiles. She turned around, pressed her back to him, found his cock with her hand and guided it between her legs from behind. She leaned forward, putting her own hands on the wall, arched her back and stuck her ass out. He took her by the hips and thrust into her in one push, all the way in, and heard her moan against the tiles.

It was different. Slower, without the urgency of the first time. The steam filled everything. Andrés wrapped one arm around her waist and with the other touched her from the front, finding her clit between the slippery folds, keeping the same rhythm he’d learned on the bench. He fucked her long and deep, feeling her wet ass bump against his stomach, while he massaged her clit in circles with two fingers. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

—Harder —she asked—. Almost there.

He grabbed her by the improvised ponytail of wet hair, pulled gently back, and sped up. The splashing mixed with the sound of the water. She came before he did, with a long shudder that clamped down on his cock from the inside, and he held out for two more thrusts before emptying himself again, this time silently, pressing his forehead to the back of her wet neck.

When they were done, they stayed under the water without moving for a while, still connected, breathing. The silence was comfortable in a way Andrés hadn’t expected. When Valeria turned off the tap, she grabbed two towels from the shelf and tossed him one.

—Five minutes. The first ones for eight should already be arriving.

—And this? —he asked, wrapping the towel around his waist.

She dried her hair without looking at him.

—What do you want it to be?

Andrés thought of Carmen. Of the four years. Of the empty apartment and the months of routine to recover something he didn’t quite know how to name.

—I don’t know yet —he said honestly.

Valeria nodded as if that were exactly the right answer.

—You’ve got a session Wednesday at seven-thirty —she said—. Be on time. And come ready.

She left the locker room unhurriedly, ponytail tied up again and tank top on as if nothing had happened. Andrés stayed alone under the dim lights, half dressed, with the cold metal of the lockers still imprinted on his palms.

That Monday he had gone to the gym to regain control.

He didn’t expect someone to take it from him so well.