The Gym Woman Who Left Me Breathless

It’s one of those stories that sounds made up when you tell it, but it happened exactly like this. It was an ordinary Tuesday, one of those days when your body runs on autopilot. I’d gotten out of work exhausted and stopped at the supermarket to buy the four things we were missing at home. I had just turned thirty and my head was on the mental list for dinner, nothing else.

I turned into the dairy aisle and ran straight into her. A woman about my age, with a half-full cart and an expression I couldn’t quite read. We stood there looking at each other. It wasn’t a normal kind of glance, the sort that dissolves in a second. It was long, sustained, uncomfortably intense. And then we both smiled, without saying a word, without even stopping.

I kept walking with my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew I was bisexual; that wasn’t news to me. One thing is enjoying a woman in bed and something very different is a stranger undoing you with a single look in the yogurt aisle. I felt my cunt go wet all of a sudden, with that stupid heat that hits you at the worst possible moment, and I had to squeeze my thighs together while pushing the shopping cart.

This woman just struck me like lightning.

The thought made me laugh and feel ashamed at the same time. I tried discreetly to look for her in the other aisles, but then I realized something absurd: I couldn’t even remember what she was wearing. I’d looked into her eyes and nothing else. I made a couple of useless loops, paid, and left defeated.

I was putting the bags in the trunk of the car when I thought I saw her in the distance, crossing the shopping center. I left everything where it was, slammed the trunk shut, and went after her almost running. I saw her go up the escalators and into the gym on the first floor. I didn’t think about it. I went up too.

At reception I was helped by a very friendly girl. I had no idea what to say, so I asked the first thing that came to mind: how much the membership cost. She explained the plans, the schedules, the classes, and I nodded without hearing a word, my eyes fixed on the back of the room, looking for her.

I don’t know if it was luck or fate, but she showed up right then. She was coming out of the machine area with a towel over her shoulder, and we looked at each other again, exactly like downstairs. And again, that smile. She kept walking toward the locker rooms and I, still with my pulse racing, asked the receptionist whether that girl trained there.

—Yes —she said, innocently—, Lucía comes every afternoon.

I pulled out my card without hesitation and signed up on the spot.

***

I got home confused, happy, distracted like a teenager coming back from school thinking about someone. My husband noticed I was strange and asked if I was okay. I told him yes, that the next day I was starting the gym because I’d run into a girl who had completely struck me dumb.

He burst out laughing.

—You’re crazy —he said, not taking it too seriously—. Enjoy your craziness.

We’ve been swingers for years. We share, we play, we go to parties where everything is allowed as long as there’s respect and clear rules. That’s why he was laughing: to him it was just another adventure on the menu. What he didn’t know, what I still didn’t fully understand, was that this time I didn’t want to share anything with anyone.

That night, while he slept, I put my hand between my legs thinking about her. I didn’t need anything else: two fingers on my clit, the memory of that look, and I came biting the pillow, my cunt dripping onto the sheets, dying of shame and wanting more.

***

The next day I went early. I found her doing cardio in leggings that marked every curve of her body. Her camel toe was visible between her legs and her tits bounced in rhythm with each stride, without a sports bra fully hiding them. I worked up my nerve and went over.

—Hi. Don’t think I’m following you, it’s just a coincidence. I’m Valeria, nice to meet you.

She laughed hard and held out her hand, still out of breath from exercising.

—I’m Lucía, but everyone calls me Lu. If you need anything, I’m at your service.

We kept looking at each other for a long while, too long for two people who had just met. We both knew something was there, and I think we both blushed. She asked me if I had a trainer or if I wanted to do the routine with her. I told her I was on my own, that I’d be happy to keep her company, but I wasn’t going to keep up because it was my first day.

—Besides, I’m a few years older than you —I added, just to fish out her age discreetly.

—You look better than me and half the women who train here —she replied, with a voice so soft it left me frozen—. Let’s start with back.

We spent the next hour between machines and dumbbells, and I didn’t know if it was all in my head or if it was really happening, but everything she said to me thrilled me, turned me on, like she was courting me with every posture correction. She adjusted my hip position with a hand on my waist, steadied the bar from behind me, spoke in my ear over the music. At one point, while I was doing deadlifts, she pressed herself against me from behind to fix my shoulders and I felt her tits against my back and her pussy against my ass. I had to bite my lip not to moan. I was afraid it showed how nervous I was, and how wet the leggings were getting between my legs.

When we were done, we went together to the showers. I took the opportunity to look at her defined, firm body, trying not to be disrespectful, stealing details from the corner of my eye. Medium-sized tits, round, with small hard nipples from the cold water; a flat, toned stomach; a neatly shaved cunt, with the lips just peeking out between her thighs; a firm, perky ass, split by a perfect line. But when I looked up, she was looking at me. Exactly the same way I was looking at her, unhurried, lingering on my tits, my pussy, everything.

—Do you like me? —she asked, shamelessly.

I didn’t know what to answer. I didn’t understand whether the question was from anger or real interest. But I came up with the calmest answer I could manage.

—A lot. But I’m only just getting to know you, and I don’t go out with anyone on the first date.

We looked at each other and laughed. The ice broke there, among shower steam and two towels. Then we each went home.

***

The following days we trained together all the time. I stretched out my routine on purpose, hoping we’d meet in the locker rooms so I could see her a little longer. I loved everything about her: her legs, her arms, the curve of her back, her neck, the line of her navel, her face. Everything. And she let herself be seen without an ounce of shame, fully aware that I was devouring her with my eyes.

It was strange, though. She showed me everything, as if she liked being looked at, but I didn’t feel like she was doing the same with me. That made me doubt. I’d get home turning it over in my head and, as always, I ended up telling my husband everything.

—Really, the gym girl has you this worked up? —he said one night, amused—. Bring her home, we’ll meet her and see what happens.

I thought that if I brought her over it would be obvious, because my husband is an old fox and rarely misses a thing. But for the first time in a long while I didn’t want to share. We worked well together at parties, but this was something else. This was the strange vertigo of wanting to win over a woman, not just take her to bed and that’s that. It was the thrill of being desired and wanting to be desired.

***

One afternoon we left the gym to have coffee. We went to a place outdoors, half hidden among plants, with that atmosphere somewhere between romantic and wild. We talked nonsense, we laughed, and at some point, without realizing it, our hands ended up entwined on the table. We both noticed at the same time and loosened up a little, but not all the way.

I told her I was married. She told me she was single, that she’d had several partners, men and women, but nothing serious at the moment. When we said goodbye, already inside the car, we kissed for the first time. It was a slow, hungry kiss, one of those that leaves you trembling. I pushed my tongue all the way in and she sucked it like she was eating my whole mouth, biting my lip, breathing into me. Her hand went straight to my breast over my shirt, and she pinched my nipple between two fingers until I moaned inside her mouth. Mine sought her thigh, slid up her jeans, and I brushed the warm bulge of her pussy with my knuckles. She opened her legs slightly, inviting me, but just then a car honked on the street and we both jolted, dying of laughter and hearts racing. I felt her all over me, her perfume, the heat of her mouth, the hand searching for the back of my neck. I left feeling in love, like I hadn’t in years, and with my panties soaked.

That night I told my husband, and as expected, he said he’d love to meet her. But I’d already decided something: with Lucía, I was going to be honest first and foremost.

***

The next day I met her again for a drink. I told her honestly about my marriage, about our life as an open couple, about my desire to have a parallel lesbian relationship, but also about my loyalty to my husband. In short, I told her I wanted to be with her, but always with his consent and knowledge. No lies, no secrets, no betrayals to anyone.

She thought for a moment, playing with her cup. Then she looked at me and smiled.

—I like the way you are —she said—. And I like that you don’t lie to me. Want to go to my apartment?

I didn’t need to answer. I paid for the coffee with shaking hands and drove behind her car with my cunt boiling under my skirt.

As soon as we went in and she closed the door, she pushed me against the wall and devoured my mouth without preamble. She ripped my blouse off button by button, dropping them to the floor, and pulled my bra down until my tits were out. She crouched and sucked my nipples one by one, first softly, licking them in circles, then nibbling them, tugging them with her teeth until a cry slipped out of me. She held my breasts with both hands, squeezed them, shoved them whole into her mouth. I dug my fingers into the back of her neck and arched my spine against the wall, beyond control.

—Come here —she said, grabbing my wrist.

She took me to the bedroom and finished stripping me with one yank, skirt and panties tumbling together to the floor. She looked at me standing in front of her, naked, and bit her lip before taking off her shirt and jeans. When I saw her naked for the first time, without the excuse of the shower, my mouth went dry. She threw herself on top of me on the bed and pried my legs open with her knees. She started kissing me from the mouth, down my neck, between my tits, biting each nipple again, sucking my stomach, and kept going down until she buried her face between my thighs.

The first lick made me jerk. She ran her whole tongue from bottom to top, from my ass to my clit, in one long, slow movement, and then she started sucking my cunt as if she were eating a ripe piece of fruit. She pried my lips open with her fingers and pushed her tongue into my hole, in and out, fucking me with her tongue. Then she went back up to my clit and sucked it, nibbled it softly, made it vibrate with the tip until I was lifting my hips, asking for more. I grabbed her head with both hands and rubbed my cunt all over her mouth with no shame at all. She slipped in two fingers and curled them inward, searching for that perfect spot, while she kept sucking my clit, and in less than a minute I came harder than I could ever remember, screaming her name, soaking her face and fingers and the sheet.

She didn’t even let me catch my breath. She climbed on top of me, still with my release shining on her chin, and kissed me on the mouth. Feeling myself on her tongue turned me on again. She climbed up until she was sitting on my face, holding onto the headboard, and lowered her pussy to my mouth.

—Lick me —she said, and it was not a request.

I stuck out my tongue and licked her all over, from tip to tip. I sucked her lips, pushed my tongue inside her, found her swollen clit and sucked it like you suck a cock, with suction, with hunger. She moved over my face, riding my mouth, moaning louder and louder. I dug my nails into her ass and spread it wide open to get a better angle. I ran my tongue from her clit to her asshole and stayed there for a while, playing, and she writhed. When I went back to her clit and slipped two fingers deep into her cunt, she came in my mouth in a few seconds, with a hoarse cry, her legs trembling on either side of my head.

She let herself fall beside me, breathless, laughing. We looked at each other, soaked in sweat and wetness, and kissed again slowly. We didn’t stop after that. That afternoon she made me come three more times, with her fingers, with her mouth, rubbing her cunt against mine scissor to scissor until we both trembled together. I left there at ten at night, unable to walk straight, with my clothes half on and the smile of an idiot.

With the rules clear, we started something beautiful that lasted months. Lucía became my best friend, my confidante, and my lover with permission. We bought toys together and tried them out without guilt, at her apartment or in hotels, laughing like two girls discovering a new world. We fucked with a harness in both positions, with double vibrators, with little eggs we’d wear under a dress to go out to dinner and make ourselves come with the remote under the table. I learned her body by heart: where to press, where to linger, what made her arch her back and bite her lip so she wouldn’t scream. I knew that if I sucked her nipples while sliding three fingers inside her she’d come in less than two minutes. I knew she liked it when I pulled her hair, when I whispered dirty things in her ear, when I licked her ass while she jerked me off. With her, I loosened up like I had never loosened up before.

Over time we had a threesome with my husband. It was nice; she let him fuck her while I ate her cunt from below and felt his cock going in and out just above my tongue. I swallowed his load after he pulled out and put it in my mouth. But the truth is they didn’t connect the way I’d expected; there was no spark between them. On the contrary, it confirmed what I already suspected: what I had with her was something separate, something that didn’t need anyone else to exist.

***

Even now I still try to find something I didn’t like about Lucía, and I can’t. I remember her kisses, her caresses, her smell, her skin, her hair falling over her shoulders, the look in her eyes, her laughter, her company. The taste of her cunt in my mouth. Everything was easy with her.

Over time she started seeing a man. She was honest with me from the beginning: she wanted to start a family, and that was something I couldn’t give her. She fell in love with him and we slowly drifted apart, without fights or reproaches, until we were simply friends. She got married. Today she has two beautiful children. We’ve never been together again, although we’re still in touch and live in the same city. We run into each other only rarely, and that’s as far as it goes.

I stayed in love with her for a good while. I pined away alone, in silence, on the nights I missed her, putting my fingers inside myself thinking about her mouth. I don’t think I ever felt for another woman what I felt for her. Sometimes I think I still love her a little. But she’s happy, she has her life in order, and I learned to love her that way, from a distance. For me she’ll always be that: an impossible love.