Shape

After Her Workout

I hear her come in through the front door. I put down the dishes I’m washing and turn the corner into the apartment hallway. There she is, standing there. A drawstring bag in one hand, her keys and a water bottle hanging from the other. Her dark hair sits up in a loose ponytail, messy and disheveled.

This is it. My favorite part of the evening.

She’s been going to the gym every other day these past few weeks. A boxing class caught her attention, and now she uses it as a way to destress and clear her head. Before this class, she never had a regular fitness routine. Full-time work and school will do that. We manage to go on frequent hikes, and she does enjoy the occasional run. Every couple weeks she hits the treadmill in the morning as a way to wake up for work and class. But this, this is different.

When she comes home from boxing, there is a glow to her. Her skin is glistening, her arms and legs toned and tense. The colorful sports bras she wears press so tightly against her breasts that I can see the outline of her nipples and the soft curvature of her cleavage below her neck. Our schedules are opposite, so I never saw her in the mornings after her runs. But the boxing classes are held later in the day, and the past few weeks have found me here, ready and waiting for her.

The first night she came home from a class was much like this one. I turned into the hallway to greet her as usual, but fell speechless at the sight of her. Something about the way her heavy breathing heaved her shoulders and made her breasts bounce ever so slightly. Or the little wisps of hair that clung to her face, the sweat on her forehead and brow still collecting there. The way the boxing gloves dangled from her fingers, swinging just above her Nike trainers. And the little booty shorts that barely contained her juicy, perfect ass. That butt alone was enough to send me over the edge on a regular basis. Seeing it bounce in the shorts, clinging to her skin from sweat, was a whole other level.

That first night, I ran over to her, lifting her up into my arms. She dropped her gloves and gasped in surprise, as I pressed my lips to hers and felt her body heat burn into me. “Let me get a shower, I’m so gross.” I moved my kisses to her neck and then to her heaving chest, leaning her against the door behind her. “Seriously! I’m so sweaty!” I reluctantly let her go when she wiggled free of my arms, giggling in the cute way she does. I watched her walk to the bathroom, the muscles of her thighs and upper back so defined in the hallway light and the sheen of her moisture. The moment she disappeared behind the door, I knew I had made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let her go so soon. And I became determined to never make that mistake again.

Later that night, I shared every bit of my thoughts and desires. I told her that the sight of her sweaty and disheveled was a feast for my eyes. That it made me hard almost instantly. That just the look and smell of her in that state sent blood rushing through me and made me want to rip her gym clothes off and taste every inch of her. Maybe it was seeing her in a new way. Maybe it was her standing there, looking like a total badass. Maybe it was a deep desire to get as sweaty and exhausted as she was. Maybe it was the extreme heat radiating off of her, like an instinctual energy I craved to absorb. Maybe it was all of those things. But I wanted her like that. Hot and fast and dirty and in the fucking hallway.

She told me she didn’t feel super sexy after her workout. Not with all the sweat and messy hair and the lack of makeup. So I spent the next week changing her mind. Every time she came in from class, I met her at the door, and turned us to face the hallway mirror. Then I put my hands and my lips on all of her, telling her every part of her turns me on. The curvature of her hips, the taper of her neck, the lines along her stomach and the dimples of her low back. I ran my fingers along each part as I worshipped them with my eyes and words. When I told her that I love the way she tastes, especially when she is glistening with sweat, I could tell she doubted it. So I proved it to her. The first thing I did every time she walked in the door after that first workout evening – pull her face and body to mine and taste away. It took a couple weeks, but I started to see it in her eyes. She knew I meant what I said. There was a new confidence there, an assuredness that no part of her could ever turn me off. Quite the opposite. I was obsessed with every nook and cranny of her. And I wanted to explore it all. She needed only to let me.

Now, she stands before me. This is the first time she’s walked in with that look on her face. That look that says, “I feel as sexy right now as I look.” It’s like a smile, but one without any innocence or shyness behind it. I’m not wasting any more time. I know exactly what to do.

I rush to her, my fingers cupping her neck and cushioning her as I press her against the door. She thrusts her hips against me, and the warmth from her skin meets mine. I nibble along her cheek, down her neck, my tongue dragging as I do. She tastes perfect. I need more. I pull the sports bra off of her, her arms lifting up as it moves over them. My hands squeeze her breasts together while my mouth sucks and pulls on the nipples finally free of their stiff containment. She moans above me, and I feel her hands pulling my shirt up. It flies off instantly. I drop to my knees, and press my lips to the mound in between her thighs. I look up and our eyes meet. Then in one swift motion, I yank the booty shorts down to her knees. Her eyes go wide, as my tongue extends and works its way into the folds of her. I grip her thick hips and ass, as my tongue feels her clit rolling it, side to side. Her fingers drag along my upper back, her tits swinging slightly as the motion of my mouth causes small shudders to course through her. The long strands of hair that have fallen out of her ponytail lay across her face, the ends of them swaying on her lips. They swing as her quickening breathing pushes against them.

I feel like a wild animal, starving and entranced by the feast before me. My hands move inside her thighs and push them open a few inches. My whole mouth cups her pussy, pulling it in, while her hips thrust hard into my face. I reach around her, grabbing her ass cheeks and assisting her. I look up to see her holding her own breasts in her hands. This is it. The position I’ve been waiting for for weeks. Her essence surrounding me, filling my senses. She can see it clearly now. I am obsessed, focused on nothing else.

I feel her pussy dripping, running down the sides of my face. She is so wet that it’s impossible to know what’s her juices, my spit, or her sweat. It’s all delicious abandon on my taste buds. My cock throbbing between my legs is the only thing powerful enough to pull my mouth away from her. I drag my tongue up to her navel, then stand to meet my mouth to hers. Our lips pounce on each other, tongues diving deep. Like two ravenous animals taking another bite. I lift her off the ground, and her legs wrap around me. I turn us to the hallway mirror.

“Look,” I whisper in her ear. She twists her neck to see both of us in full view in the tall mirror. Our legs and asses face the glass, glorious bodies displayed in full. I watch her eyes gaze up and down, taking in the wild sight. I waste no time, grabbing my cock and angling it at the dripping folds of her pussy. She watches as I lower her down, taking in all of me. We both yell out, another level of communion igniting within us. I bounce her up and down, messy hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. Her ass cheeks bounce with our movement. I can feel her fingers gripping into my back, both of us slippery from her boxing and my feasting. She watches me slide in and out of her, the look on her face one of awe and carnal intensity. I see the sweat building on her face again. I want to lick it off.

I pause, holding her at the top of a thrust. My cock throbs, half in her, half exposed to our hallway mirror. She stares at it, wide eyed at the view, as if she’s frozen in the moment. Then I thrust up into her, filling her again. She screams out, thrusting her head back. Her eyes close and her hair falls backwards, raining down towards her ass. Somewhere in all of his, her ponytail has come undone.

When she snaps her neck back upright, her eyes are open and there is fire in them. Her hand wraps on the front of my neck, squeezing firmly. As quickly as I can register my surprise, the same hand moves to caress my face. She smiles at me devilishly. Her legs release from their wrap around me and lower to the ground. I feel myself slide out of her. She drops to her knees and wraps her fingers around the base of my bouncing cock. Her hair flops all over her face, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. She looks at me, and I see it. The same energy I’ve been bringing to her at the door for weeks now. It’s in her too. Pulsing out of her like a wave, infecting me to my core.

She breaks my moment of wonder by sticking out her tongue and dragging the tip of it slowly from my head along the bottom of my shaft. I can’t look away from the motion, nor her eyes that follow it. She reaches the base of me, and pulls my balls into her mouth. I gaze at the sight of her, mouth filled to the brim while my swollen cock rests along the length of her face and forehead. Her hair is spread all over, perfectly in the way. Her palms twist on my shaft, using her own juices to jerk me off. She stays there with her mouth full, gazing up at me, the same as I did when I had her against the door.

I look up from the gorgeous sight between my legs to see our reflection in the mirror. It’s wondrous. And then it hits me. This is our new routine. Our evening dinner plans. I will devour her and she will gobble me up. This goddess of sensuality and sweat and strength and sustenance. I’ll be waiting for her here, in this very spot. After her next workout.