The Gym Instructor Was Waiting for Me Alone on a Monday

Just over a year ago, I decided I couldn’t keep leaving work only to flop onto the couch with my head full of spreadsheets. The routine was eating me alive. I searched the map for the gym closest to home, found one fifteen minutes away by car, and promised myself I’d go that very afternoon, without giving myself time to come up with excuses.

At five o’clock I left the office, went home, took a quick shower, and drove there with my gym bag half-packed. When I walked through the door, only then did I realize it was a women-only space. I liked the idea. It meant I could sweat in peace, without guys staring at my cleavage every time I bent down to grab some water.

While I was looking through the brochures at the front desk, a woman came up to me. She must have been about thirty. She was tall, very fair-skinned, with black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her shoulders were defined and she had the kind of legs you only get from years of consistency. The gym uniform fit her snugly in all the right places. It was obvious her tits were augmented, but they’d been done carefully, without overdoing it.

—Hi, I’m Lorena —she said, extending her hand—. I’m the instructor. Can I help you with something?

I explained that I wanted to sign up and start that same day, if possible. She smiled as if she thought that was a good habit.

—Give me your details in the office and we’ll get started in half an hour —she replied.

And that’s how it went. I filled out the form, signed the contract, and a few minutes later I was following her to the main room. We did the warm-up together and then she put together a gentle routine so I wouldn’t be completely wrecked on my first day. She seemed professional, attentive, with nothing weird about her. I left there with my legs stiff and my spirits high.

In the following weeks Lorena became part of my life. I went three times a week, always at the same time. She corrected my posture, gradually added weight, and explained what each exercise was for. Sometimes she’d keep looking at me for a second too long, but I put that down to her being focused on my technique. It had never crossed my mind that it could be anything else. I’d never looked at a woman that way. Not until that Monday.

***

That week I had Monday off because of a bureaucratic errand that got canceled at the last minute. It was eleven in the morning, I had nothing to do at home, and the idea of getting my workout out of the way before noon seemed perfect. When I got to the gym, I found the lights turned down and the place quiet. Lorena was alone, sitting at the front desk and looking at her phone.

—Well, look who showed up —she said, lifting her gaze—. I wasn’t expecting you this early.

—I got the day off. I was bored.

—Well then, you get a personal training session. There’s no one else until one.

She was smiling as always, but that morning there was something different in her gaze. She looked me over slowly, from head to toe, in a way that hadn’t been there before, or that I hadn’t wanted to see.

We started with the usual warm-up. Fifteen minutes on the elliptical, hip mobility, a bit of cycling. I tried to concentrate on breathing, but I could feel her moving around me without ever losing sight of me. When I got off the machine, she handed me a towel and her fingers brushed mine as she gave it to me. It was a tiny contact, almost accidental. Almost.

—Leg day today —she said—. Squats with weight.

I stood in front of the mirror, the bar resting on my shoulders and my feet at the distance she’d taught me. On the first reps she corrected my back from a distance. On the third set she came closer.

—You need more hip. Look.

She stood behind me. I could see our reflections in the mirror: she was a handspan taller, her body pressed against mine. Her hands held me just above the pelvis, firm, and guided the movement. The curve of her tits pressed into my back every time I went down, and with each rep I could feel her nipples hardening through the fabric of her top, two insistent points digging between my shoulder blades. Her pelvis pressed against my ass with a precision that had nothing to do with technique anymore. I could feel her breath near the back of my neck, warm, coming and going in a rhythm that quickened a little more than the exercise justified.

—Like that —she murmured—. Deeper. Drop your ass properly, like that, for me.

A sigh escaped me, which I tried to pass off as a breath of exertion. Every time I pushed my hips down, my ass bumped against her pubic mound, and she didn’t move away even an inch. On the contrary. She pressed. Her hands slid from my waist to the tops of my thighs and squeezed there, very close to my crotch, guiding my stance wider. I felt heat between my legs, a sticky tingling that was starting to soak my underwear. I did three more reps and racked the bar. My legs were shaking, but not just from the effort. A strange current ran down my stomach and settled lower, in my pussy, pulsing. I wiped my forehead with the towel and tried to look her in the eyes.

—Are you okay? —she asked, tilting her head.

—Yeah. Just hot, that’s all.

She smiled as if she knew. And I think she did.

***

We moved on to abs. I lay down on the mat and she knelt in front of me to hold my feet. The top she was wearing was tight and had slipped lower than usual. Every time she leaned forward to reinforce my position, I could see her nipples peeking out whole from the edge of the fabric, dark and erect. I was going up and down trying not to lose my breath, but I lost my concentration on every rep. On top of that, with my legs open and my knees bent, I was aware that my leggings were clinging to my pussy and showing her the exact outline of my lips. I was so wet I worried the stain might show through the fabric.

When I finished the set I stayed on the floor for a second, not getting up. She was above me, not touching me, looking at me from a distance that felt much shorter than it was. She didn’t say anything. Neither did I. My panties were soaked, stuck to my flesh. I was sure she could tell.

—Get up, let’s stretch —she said, in a tone that was no longer that of an instructor.

We stretched in silence. Right then the door opened and two women came in with backpacks slung over their shoulders. Lorena switched modes in an instant, greeted them with her professional smile, and went back to the front desk to have them sign in. I finished the last few minutes alone, my heart still pounding and my pussy throbbing every time I squeezed my thighs.

When I was packing my things, she came over.

—Would you mind driving me home? My car’s in the shop and I live nearby.

—No problem. I’ll wait outside.

I sat in the driver’s seat and waited for her for almost an hour, until the lunch-hour sessions were over and she could close out the log sheet. I didn’t mind. My head was spinning. I kept wondering if I’d imagined everything, if I was inventing a story for myself so I’d have something exciting to think about that week. And at the same time, I knew I hadn’t. Every time I adjusted myself in the seat, I could feel the seam of my pants working its way between my wet lips, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t moan alone in the car.

***

Lorena lived fifteen blocks away, in a low-rise building with a plain facade. On the way she asked me what I thought of the workout. I told her, without looking at her, that I’d really liked it. She gave a soft laugh.

—Me too. A lot.

When I parked, she invited me up for a drink. I accepted before thinking about it. We went up the stairs, she opened the door, and let me in first. The apartment was neat, bright, with plants in every corner. It smelled like clean laundry and some soft incense.

—I’ll pour you some juice. Orange or grapefruit?

—Grapefruit —I said, without knowing why.

She handed me the glass in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching me. I drank in small sips, trying not to let my hand shake. When I was done, I took a step to set the glass in the sink. She was right behind me. I felt her body almost pressed to mine before I heard her voice.

—I know you liked having me behind you this morning. I noticed. It all showed, you know? Your crotch went dark from how wet you were.

I turned around slowly. We were inches apart. She didn’t give me time to decide anything. Her mouth covered mine with a calmness that finished melting me. Her lips were softer than any mouth I’d kissed before. Her tongue slid in without haste, playful, measuring me. I answered awkwardly at first and then eagerly. I grabbed her by the waist to pull her closer, and she used that to bring my hands down to her hips and press me against the counter.

—If you want me to stop, tell me now —she murmured, her forehead still against mine.

—I don’t want you to stop.

—Good. Because I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand up.

She kissed me again, this time with less patience. She pulled my shirt over my head and took hers off. I saw her in panties and sports bra, and for the first time in my life I felt like doing to another woman what so many men had wanted to do to me. I pulled down her sports bra and took her tits in both hands. They were firm, heavy, perfect in my palms. Her nipples had turned hard as little stones. I bent down and took one into my mouth, sucking it all the way in, tugging with my lips until I heard her moan for the first time. Then I moved to the other one. I circled it with my tongue, bit it gently, sucked it until it turned red. I kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, ran my tongue along her cleavage down to her navel. She grabbed my hair and lifted my head to kiss me again, devouring my mouth with hunger.

—Take everything off —she ordered in my ear—. Now.

I pulled down my leggings and panties together, trembling. She looked at me from above with a smile that was pure promise, and with two fingers she ran through the middle of my pussy, from back to front, in a single devastating motion.

—Look at how you are. Dripping. You’ve been like this all morning, haven’t you?

She lifted her shiny fingers and ran them over my lips before putting them in her own mouth and sucking them like candy.

***

She turned me around without saying a word. I ended up with my palms on the marble counter and she was behind me, finishing pulling my leggings and panties off my ankles. She gently pushed my back so I’d lean forward. Then she knelt down, and with both hands she spread my ass cheeks wide open, without the slightest shame, as if my ass had always been hers.

I felt her mouth before I saw it. Her tongue ran over me from behind, slow at first, more insistent after that. She dragged it all the way along the length of my open pussy, from top to bottom, taking her time to taste me. I felt it dip between my lips, search for the entrance, slide inside. She finger-fucked me with her tongue for a few seconds, pulled it out, licked again, went higher and ran the tip over my asshole with a low purr that made me clamp my thighs together on pure reflex. Her hands held my inner thighs, opening me wider, making it impossible for me to close my legs. I pressed my forehead against the cold marble and tried not to make a sound, but after a few seconds it was impossible. Every movement of her tongue tore a new moan out of me. She shoved two fingers in all at once, all the way in, and started pumping them while her tongue worked my clit from the front, circling it with precise motions.

—Fuck my fingers —she panted between licks—. Move. Come on.

I did as she said. I started rocking back, taking her fingers deeper, riding them. I felt them go in wet, deep, pulling out and pushing back in, while her mouth gave me no rest. When she focused everything on one spot and sucked my whole clit against her lips, I lost track of time. I came against her mouth with my legs shaking, clamping her fingers inside me in spasms I couldn’t control, with nothing to hold onto. I screamed so loudly I was embarrassed afterward. She didn’t pull her fingers out until I stopped trembling, and when she did, they were dripping all the way to her wrist.

Before I could catch my breath, she was already standing. She licked her fingers one by one, looking me in the eyes, and took my hand. She led me into the living room. She fell backward onto the rug and dragged me on top of her.

—Now you. I want to see that pretty mouth between my legs.

I went down slowly. I kissed her neck, her tits —I sucked her nipples again, longer this time, savoring them until her back arched—, her navel. When I got between her legs, I hesitated for a second. I had never done this before. There was another woman open beneath me, her pussy pink and shaved, glossy, with her lips already parted, waiting for me. But the smell, the heat, the way she gripped my nape with her hand and shoved my face against her sex, told me exactly what I had to do. I started with a flat tongue, tracing her all over, from the entrance to the clit, listening to how her breathing changed. Then I used my fingers to spread her lips wider and went inside, searching for her taste, taking all of her. She set the rhythm by tightening or loosening her fingers in my hair. Once I found the place I had to work, I stayed there. I sucked her clit with my lips, licked it in circles, nibbled it softly with my teeth. I slid two fingers inside her, imitating what she had done to me, curling them upward until I found a rough spot that made her let out a shout.

—There, don’t stop, there, goddamn it, there —she moaned, moving her hips against my face, tugging my hair, almost smothering me against her pussy.

I didn’t stop. I kept pumping my fingers and sucking her until I felt her tense, arch her whole back, and let out a long, hoarse moan from deep in her throat. She came in my mouth with a warm rush that ran down my chin. I kept licking her slowly while the aftershocks went through her, swallowing everything, enjoying the fact that I’d made her finish like that, on my first time with a woman and I’d already driven her wild.

Then she sat up, still panting, and spread my legs. She positioned herself in front of me with her legs intertwined, riding my thigh to press pussy against pussy. Her sex against mine, both of us wet, hot, painfully sensitive. Our lips met, our clits brushed, and I felt an electric shock arch through my whole body. She started moving slowly, rubbing herself against me, and I followed her. The friction was exact, the angle was exact, everything was new and at the same time the most natural thing in the world. I could hear the wet sound of our sex rubbing together, an obscene slapping that filled the living room. We picked up speed together. She grabbed one of my breasts, pinched my nipple, and I did the same. I looked into her eyes and saw she was at the edge too. We moved faster, pressing close, searching for the exact spot. We came at the same time, biting our lips so we wouldn’t scream, with our pussies grinding together and our legs tangled and our whole bodies soaked.

We stayed sprawled out on the rug, breathing hard, our hands intertwined. She rolled over and kissed my shoulder. She ran her tongue along my neck. I still wanted more. So did she.

***

We showered together. Almost without touching this time, just soaping ourselves up in silence while I tried to understand what had just happened. Though at one point she ran her soapy hands over my tits, lingered on my nipples a second too long, and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth before rinsing me off. When I came out of the bathroom, she had already taken out a clean towel and left it folded on the bed.

—I’ll see you Wednesday —she said when she walked me to the door. She said it as if it were nothing, as if it were the end of any class.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I spent the whole time thinking about her mouth, her hands, her fingers inside me, the taste of her pussy on my tongue, the reflection of the two of us in the gym mirror. About the heterosexuality I had taken for granted my entire adult life and that had fallen apart in one afternoon. I ended up masturbating three times before dawn, and all three times I came thinking about her.

I went on Wednesday. And Friday too. And I still keep going, though now I always reserve Mondays at eleven. That time slot, the two of us know, isn’t for training.