Most people use Sundays to relax, but I feel it’s the best day to hit the gym. It’s empty, so there are no meatheads flexing their muscles and bimbos taking pictures of their asses in the mirror. What could be better than that?
I walk into the gym and head to a bench. It’s chest day. In my peripheral, I see a woman at the cable machine to my right. She’s kicking back and staring at the mirror to check her form. Although I’m not looking at her, my eyes are begging me to look right. But I can’t. She’ll see that I’m staring.
I so badly want to look at her directly because my side view shows me that she has an amazing figure. I’d love to admire that figure and later jerk off over it. But first, I need to get a proper look at it.
As I recline to lie under the bar, she kicks behind her again, a strap around her ankle, and she holds the machine for support. Her tight black shirt and loggings reveal her sexy figure, which I want to ogle, but my ego is preventing me from turning my head right.
If she sees me looking at her, she’ll know that I like her, and then I’ve lost. She must have all the guys hit on her, so she’s probably used to everyone liking her. If I look at her, I’ll just be another average guy. I need to be a challenge, but how?
Before I lift the bar with the 100 kilograms of plates, I’m thinking about how to approach the situation so that I don’t come across as just another loser who’s hitting on her. Wait! I need to actually approach her. Once I go up to her, everything will fall into place. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I walk up to her while she’s bending over.
“Sorry, how many more sets do you have here?” I ask.
She avoids eye contact and looks at the mirror, but not in a dismissive way. She actually looks stunned that I’m talking to her. Maybe she feels uncomfortable about me talking to her while she’s in a compromising position. It’s hard for me to believe that she could be interested in me and is shy.
“It’s my last set.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I stand to the side and glance at her while she’s completing her set. Her ass is phenomenal. Her tits are the 8th wonder of the world. She looks unbelievable, and I so badly want to stare at her the whole day. I could pull up a chair and admire her physique the entire day and not be bored for a second.
She completes the set, then walks past me and says, “I’m done. It’s all yours.” Her eyes are on the floor as she talks to me. I’m convinced that she’s shy, not rude. A rude woman would’ve just walked away from the machine and not acknowledged me at all.
There is nothing more attractive than a beautiful woman who is down to Earth and slightly shy. This girl is exactly that. It’s almost like she doesn’t know how beautiful she is. She’s completely chilled and humble. How could I know all of that about her after saying one sentence to her, right?
I know, it’s crazy. But it’s like her personality is displayed on her soft, gentle face. She’s not wearing an ounce of make-up, has her hair tied, no phone in her hands or headphones on her head. She’s definitely serious about working out. It’s just another thing that I love about her.
I grab the handles to do a cable cross-over and then see her go upstairs. I’m disappointed that she didn’t carry on working out downstairs. I so badly wanted to look at her. If I can’t have her, then I’ll settle for staring at her.
Having the privilege to see somebody whose personality and beauty are what I’m looking for is a very special occasion. It’s one that I’ve been waiting for a long time, and it doesn’t happen often because I’m so picky.
I do two sets and plan to do another one, then go upstairs. If I go immediately, then she’ll know I followed her.
As I’m doing my third set, she comes downstairs and then goes to the squat machine. I’m suppressing a smile. Can’t let her know that I’m happy to see her again. Oh, God, how wonderful it would be to talk to her. To touch. To bang her brains out. I can only imagine how loud she screams. If I was banging her doggystyle, she would scream her lungs out, no doubt about that.
I would put my back into it and give her the time of her life and mine. I would bang her so hard that she’d beg me never to stop. I’d pull her ponytail and spank her incredibly fine ass. She’d want me to stick my finger into her anus, I just know it.
I’d even lick it if she wanted me to. Sticking my dick into her ass would be amazing. I wonder if she’s tight or if some guy has already had that pleasure. Ugh, who cares? As long as I get my turn. After I stick my dick into her ass, I’d pull it out and make her suck it. Yeah, that sounds good.
She would have my balls in her mouth, for sure. I’d then flip her over onto her back, open her legs and then squeeze her tits while banging her. Man, those titties look amazing. What I’d give to suck them.
I wonder if I’d cum on her face to finish off properly or would that be disrespectful to do to such a pretty face? I’d probably just cum on her tits. That would be just as nice. I wouldn’t want my lips somewhere where my cum has been.
She must love it doggystyle. How could she not? She’s got an amazing ass, so whoever is banging it would put in maximum effort. I know I would.
I snap out of the fantasy and continue the cross-over. All I can think about is looking at her. She’s divine, and my eyes want more.
My peripheral vision reveals that she’s looking at me. Could it be, or is she looking at the mirror? No, it can’t be. She’s to the side and can’t see herself in the mirror. She must be looking at me. Once again, my ego prevents me from looking at her. Ugh! It’s so frustrating being me.
I consider approaching her again. Oh, no. Don’t do that. Then she’ll know for sure that I’m interested in her. But if she does, is that the worst thing in the world? I mean, what can I lose? It’s not like I have her and will no longer be with her if I say something stupid.
I release the handles, and the cables snap back. She’s squatting, her ass dipping low to the floor. I picture lying below her, and her pussy is lowering onto my dick. I slap her ass, and it slightly wobbles. God, it looks amazing. I could stare at her ass forever. It looks that good. It’s like, no matter how much you stare at it, there’s an inch of it that looks so good that you have to take another look. And on and on it would go on like that.
I inhale a deep breath and take a step towards her. I’m going for it, and there’s nothing that can stop me, not even my ego.
She hooks the bar onto the Smith machine and then goes upstairs. Damn it. What’s up with this girl? Now she’s downstairs, then she’s upstairs. Can’t she just stay in one place?
Sigh.
I’m not upset with her. I’m just frustrated that I’m not with her. I chuckle. I’d love nothing more than to get to know her better.
I go upstairs. Yes, I’m following her. And I don’t even care if the entire gym knows it. That includes her. I’m a man on a mission, and nobody is stopping me.
Oh, great. Now she’s on the stair master machine. How the hell am I supposed to talk to her while she’s up there?
I decide to wait for her to get off. It’s not like I mind waiting. Her back is facing me, so I get to admire her from behind. She has the most amazing figure I’ve ever seen. Better than a fish. She really does look unbelievable.
Ten minutes pass, and she’s still on there. No worries, just more time for me to stare at her. But I’d actually like to talk to her.
Some guys notice that I’m staring at her. It is kinda awkward that I’m standing behind her. I decide to go to the abs machine.
As I’m crunching, she gets off the stair master. She walks past me and heads downstairs. I follow her, but she’s too fast for me, and she goes into the female bathrooms. Damn it.
I go to the changeroom and quickly change clothing.
I wait for her outside the gym. There’s no way she’s getting away from me now. She’s gotta come out. And when she does, I’m gonna pounce.
My heart is beating really fast. I’m struggling to get a good amount of oxygen into my lungs. I know that she’s coming out any minute, and I have to step up to her. All kinds of crazy thoughts circle my mind, but they’re not going to get the better of me.
She exits the gym and a lump forms in my throat. My ego tries to talk me out of talking to her. It’s succeeding because I’m still standing still and justifying it by saying to myself, ‘Let’s see where she’s going.’
As the seconds are slipping away from me, so is she. She’s getting further from me, and I justify my non-movement as a sign of strength because men should never chase women.
She disappears into the distance. I’m still in the same spot, my head hanging. At that moment, I had no idea how much I would regret not making a move.
For the next few Sundays, I’m at the gym at the same time as when I saw her. But she’s not.
Months have passed, and I still haven’t seen her. Ahh, man. What have I done?
Her rejection would hurt less than my regret. It’s still eating me up inside every day. I should’ve just spoken to her. Stupid ego—not good for anything but to create havoc and regret. Hate you.
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