Gym Work

I was at the gymnasium one evening. It was a Tuesday, and the gym is notoriously underused on Tuesdays. I don't know why, it just happens that way. This evening there were only a few people there, with me being the only woman. There were four men there. Three of them were standard gym rats. The fourth was a stranger and he looked as though he was a bit tough.

Did I say he looked a bit tough? I do tend to downplay things at times. This guy looked like a complete thug, the sort of guy mobsters would send around to put the frighteners on other frighteners. I'm not sure what it was about him, he wasn't scarred or anything, but he was frightening.

He was also watching me, I was sure of it. I didn't actually see him deliberately looking at me but I could feel it. It didn't matter where I was in the gym. He always seemed to have moved to another machine where I was in his line of sight. It became a little nerve-wracking after a while. It wasn't that he was making moves on me or doing anything overt, it was just that he always seemed to be there.

I flicked a quick glance at the gym-rats, just wondering if they'd be of any help if I needed it. The answer, I decided, was a resounding no. The tough looked as though he'd eat them alive and look around for seconds.

I am of the firm belief that if you're in an uncomfortable situation, get out of there. I am not one of those women who finish up getting assaulted because they were stupid enough to start quoting their rights and waving the women's lib banner. If there was likely to be trouble I wanted to be watching it on TV, thank you very much.

I finished of my exercises on the current machine and then headed over to the change room. A quick shower and I'd be out of there.

I was peeling off my leotard almost from the moment I walked into the change room, stepping out of it and tossing it onto the bench next to my locker. I was standing there in my gym bra and panties and I got a hell of a shock. The tough was in the change room. He'd followed me in and was leaning against the wall next to the door, watching me.

I just froze on the sport, petrified, eyes wide, looking at him.

"I want you," he said.

He had quite a nice voice, surprisingly enough. He looked as though his voice should sound like rocks rasping together, but he had a pleasant baritone. For some reason that nice quiet voice (he didn't speak loudly) made him seem all the more scary.

"I - I'll scream," I said weakly. Fat lot of good that would do. I'd already decided that the gym-rats would be useless and I couldn't see the staff fairing much better. Still, he probably wouldn't want to be too blatant about what he did.

"Really?" he said, sounding surprised. "Ah, why?"

Why?

"Are you kidding? You burst in here and threaten me and you wonder why I want to scream?"

"Ah, I actually walked quietly through the door and leant against the wall to present an unthreatening appearance. All I said was that I want you. You must be used to men thinking you to be very desirable. Why would you think that was a threat?"

"I'm in the woman's change room and you're in here suggesting that you want me. I'm not going to submit quietly to being raped. I'll fight and scream my head off."

"And so you should. Rape is reprehensible. I wouldn't dream of doing it myself. Ah, feel free to continue to get undressed. Female nudity doesn't bother me. In fact I quite like looking at it."

"Why the hell would I take of my clothes with you standing there?" I asked, feeling outraged. I also felt that I was losing track of this conversation.

"Well, it's a lot easier to have your shower if you get undressed first. I assume you were going to have a shower."

"Ah, yes, but. . ." I started, but he cut me off.

"There you are, then. You need to get undressed before you have it. And the clothes would get in the way of the sex, anyway."

"I have no intention of having sex with you," I said quickly.

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to. I feel that you're threatening me."

"I'm not. I'm just letting you know that I want you and am feeling eager to take you and feel your silky body wrapped around me, feeling the pleasure I can give you, giving me pleasure in return."

"And am I allowed to say no to this delightful offer," I asked, a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. I still wasn't sure that he wouldn't rape me.

"Well you're allowed to, I guess, but think of what you'd be missing out on. And think of how disappointed I'd be. You don't want to disappoint me do you?"

For a walking gorilla he actually managed to sound like a hurt little boy. I actually felt a tinge of guilt until I recalled what he wanted me to do.

"You're not quite all there," I sniped. "Has that corny line ever worked? Perhaps against a halfwit?"

"Never tried it before," he said. "It's just that you seemed so right for me that I had to at least make the effort."

"So all I have to do is say no and you'll go away?"

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean yes and no? It can't be both."

"Yes it can. If you say no it means I don't get sex but it doesn't mean I'll go away. I'd probably stay here and watch you shower, looking lost and pitiful, to see if you'd change your mind."

I did a face palm at that. Did he really think I was going to finish getting undressed with him standing there watching? That would be asking for trouble.

I should have known better than to take my eyes off him. When I put my hand over my face he moved.

"Do you need some help with these? I like undressing women. It's much like unwrapping a Christmas present. One is eager to see what you're getting."

Before I could say yes, no, or get the hell away, you creep, he was sliding my panties down. Not just pushing them down but taking them right down to my ankles and then lifting my ankles to take them right off. I was now standing there blushing, my hands crossed in front of me.

"Stop it," I squeaked. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you take your clothes off," he said, the tone of his voice implying that it should be obvious.

"I didn't say you could do that," I half wailed at him.

"You didn't say I couldn't," he said. "Lift your arms."

The reason for that was because he'd started pulling my bra up. My breasts were already bouncing free and he was waiting for me to lift my arms so he could take it right off. Seeing not lifting my arms wouldn't help at all, my breasts already on display, I reluctantly lifted my arms, watching my bra go, leaving me naked.

"You don't seriously think I'm going to agree to have sex with you, do you?"

A hand slipped lightly across my breasts, and I could feel my nipples standing out. Another hand was brushing against my mons, lightly pressing it.

"You don't need to agree," he murmured. "I tend to take agreement for granted. Unless you hurry up and specifically tell me no and to back off then you'll find that I'm taking you."

At that moment I heard his trousers going down. I looked down and gasped. Oh my god. I hastily looked up.

A couple of big hands closed over my bottom, pulling me against him. My god. I could feel that thing pressing against me. I had to stop him. If I didn't he was going to use that thing on me. My tummy was curling inside. From fear, I was certain. It couldn't possibly be lust.

He let me go and I hastily put some space between us. I was breathing hard. Just nervousness, I assured myself. He calmly stripped his t shirt off and he was now standing naked in front of me. Oh, my. He still looked a complete thug but there was a certain charisma to him. Or was the size of that weapon warping my feelings?

His hands cupped my breasts again, stroking them, exciting them. His hands started sliding down and around, clasping my bottom again, pulling me against him.

I was supposed to be saying no. If I didn't say no he was going to have sex with me. I opened my mouth and stuttered, saying nothing. What the hell was wrong with me?

He picked me up. Just like that his hands tightened over my bottom and lifted and I just rose straight up off the floor. My god he was strong. My hands promptly clutched onto his shoulders to prevent myself falling. He bounced me on his hands slightly, managing to part my legs while he did so.

Oh god, I could feel his cock, pressing against me. He was really doing it. I was shaking my head from side to side as his cock pressed harder, any moment now and he was going to be in me. I'd be sliding down onto him, totally screwed.

I guess shaking my head wasn't the same as verbally saying no. I could feel him sliding up into me, pressing deeper. I hastily wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to hold myself up and off him. That's what I told myself, anyway. It was just an unhappy coincidence that the new position turned out to make it easier for him to penetrate me. He just kept on coming, pushing deeper and deeper, and I could feel my passage happily yielding to him.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I'd explained to him that I wasn't interested yet somehow I was clinging to him with his cock firmly inserted inside me. Very firmly inserted. It felt like I was sitting on a flagpole. A hot, throbbing flagpole. I'll swear I could feel the beating of his heart vibrating into me via his erection.

You want to know what I found especially irritating? The damn man didn't have to use any force. I'd argued with him before he took my clothes off, while he took my clothes off, and after he took my clothes off, but somehow or other he just brushed all that aside and took me. It would be a lot easier to understand if I'd protested and fought, squealing no, no, no, but I hadn't even managed to get out the single no needed to stop him.

Now look at me.

There was a lightly padded bench on one side of the change room. My thug, I didn't even know his name, just strolled over to the bench, me bouncing on his cock with every step. Deliberately, I'm quite sure of it. I'd seen him moving around the gym and he just seemed to glide from spot to spot, but now he was walking in such a way that I was jolted with each step. It was awesome.

Regarding his name, I was damned if I was going to ask him what it was. As far as I was concerned, if a man is ravishing me, he should have the courtesy to tell me who he is. Sort of like, "Hi. I'm Jim. I'll be your ravisher tonight." Waiters do it. Why not him?

Regarding the ravishing. OK, so I didn't actually say no. I guess that means it's not ravishment. What do you call it when he just walks up, picks you up, and plonks you down on his cock? Damned if I know.

Anyway, getting back to the subject at hand, or up my vagina, in this case, he plodded over to the padded bench and dumped me on it, making sure not to lose contact while he did so. Once I was comfortably laid on my back, looking up at him, he winked and went to town.

He pulled back and came thundering back into me, while I squealed and pushed sharply up to meet him. I'd barely finished pushing up and I was finding him pulling back and the next thrust starting. Thank god for gym work. It kept me fit, in top condition, able to handle a man who seemed determined to beat me to death internally with a cock that could double as a police baton.

He drove in repeatedly, non-stop, relishing his work. I was working overtime to keep up with him and, ok, I'll admit it, I found the whole thing immensely exciting. All too often men treat you as though you're made of glass and might break or cry if they get too energetic. This didn't worry my thug. He just saw me as a woman who could service his needs and he was making sure that he got the full service.

For all his energetic performance he also took his time, which seemed a bit of a contradiction. He was still going long after I thought he was ready to blow, which surprised me somewhat. I haven't had many lovers but I've always been able to judge when they're ready to go. With my thug, I'd think he was ready, and then things would seem to die down a little before picking up again.

It took a few recurrences for me to twig. The rotten sod was deliberately slowing down at critical points to allow his gonads to cool off, letting him keep on going. Meanwhile, poor little me was raised to a fine pitch of excitement and left hanging there while he extended his playtime.

I was twisting about under him, dying to explode, just waiting for him to get on with it. There was no way I was going to ask him to finish it off. I'd rather die.

No, I wouldn't rather die. I'd rather kill him.

"Finish it, you selfish bastard," I screamed. "Finish it or I'll fucking kill you."

"Aah, you're ready are you?" he asked, while I seethed and bucked under him. "Let me see if I can help you out."

Oh gawd, could he ever help me out. He gave a couple of sharp thrusts and I lost it, bucking frantically, clinging to him as I shuddered with the violence of my feelings, feeling him relaxing his control and enjoying his own climax.

Afterwards he walked me over to the shower and pushed me under it, joining me there.

"I can wash myself," I snapped at him as he proceeded to wash me as though I was a child.

"No, you can't," he calmly replied. "You're going to be busy washing me. Hop to it."

So we finished up washing each other, which was something different. After that we dried each other and got dressed. Would you believe he had the nerve to stroll out of the women's change room into the reception area with me, raising the eyebrows of the staff in the area, although after one look at him they didn't say anything?

"Wait here," he said and ducked into the men's change room. Like an idiot, I waited. Then he was back and escorting me out of the building.

"Do you have a car?" he asked and I admitted to possessing such a devise.

"Good," he said. "I came by taxi. Just asked the driver to drop me at a gym and he picked this one. You can give me a lift."

That goes to show why I hate taxi drivers. He could have taken him to a gym on the other side of town, so why hadn't he?

"Where do you want to go?" I asked, figuring if I didn't agree he'd argue with me until I was giving him the keys and walking myself.

"That depends," he said, looking thoughtful. "If you live alone I'll accept a lift to your place. Otherwise you'd better let me off at my hotel."

"You're mad. Do you expect me to take you to my place when I don't even know your name?"

"It's Ian," he said calmly. "Shall we go?"

Why not? I knew his name, after all. I wondered what the night would bring.