Sweat Equity

📖 5 mins read

copyrighted salty

Another bead of sweat trickled downward between his brows and onto the bridge of his nose. He sat hunched over with both elbows propped on his knees, fighting to catch his breath, staring at the floor where many previous drips had already achieved their final destination. The gloves were off, but tightly wrapped tape that protected his wrists and hands made it difficult to straighten cramped fingers. Both hands shook with hard-earned fatigue.

His arms felt like clay. It was a bitch trying to lose weight, and thirty minutes on the heavy bag worked his body over better than any other form of exercise; treadmill and weights included. But then — there were those times when she had him pinned down, straddling his hips, begging him to fuck her to the far corners of oblivion while she did her best to simultaneously return the favor. He snorted through his nose and smiled to himself when he considered how much better it felt to be thrusting back at her than grinding out a hundred or so crunches. He stuck out his lower lip and blew another drip of sweat off the end of his nose. Yeah, fucking her was much better than crunches.

He leaned back against the cool concrete wall of his workout room and held his arms straight out in front, parallel to the floor. Slowly he rotated his hands outward and then back to the inside, admiring the results of his physical investment. His arms looked good. Muscle definition in his biceps and triceps was enhanced by a strenuous workout. After only a few seconds he had to let his arms drop into his lap, giving in to an overwhelming combination of gravity and fatigue. Looking down, he watched the sinewy muscles in his forearms ripple, as he curled his fingers tightly into fists. It felt good to be powerful. Powerful was sexy, and sexy was powerful. Each fed upon the other, just like their sex – just like their fuck.

She was powerful too – a kick-boxer, a very sexy kick-boxer.  Her power was in her legs, her very long legs. She was anywhere from 5’11” to 6’2” depending on her choice of shoes, tall enough to look directly into his eyes – and his soul. That’s where feeding off each other usually took place. He would disappear into her and she into him. There they would feed. There they would fuck. Fuck consumed them both. Fuck slipped into their power. Fuck fed off their investments in their bodies and fueled a dual lust that drove them to find the highest places from which to leap. And leap they would – sometimes one before the other, and sometimes in the same blinding instant. With either outcome, they made the climb every time like it was their last.

Another smile curled across his lips, as he thought about his investment strategies in her pleasure. Hers came before his, and as a result, he discovered his pleasure amplified within hers. Trust that he would never leave her wanting had emboldened her desire, enabling her to relax into his ministrations. His patience in satisfying his own desires gave her the chance to grow and discover that Fuck was not just something done to her, it was something she could become. She loved his ways. She loved his mouth, and she’d grown to crave his tongue. His payback came willingly in the form of her spreading those pretty legs and whispering, “Lick me.”

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His cock started to harden as images of her offering him a taste of her little slice of heaven formed in his head. Long, slow, exaggerated licks from her opening to a bursting, ripe clit would cause her to roll her hips to follow his tongue. Hovering just out of reach and extending his tongue acted as a magnet, drawing her hips off the bed seeking the slow circles he’d trace. The strength in her legs surged in his hands as he pushed on her thighs forcing her legs farther apart, before sliding them upward, squeezing and kneading her tenderness, and converging on her soaking pussy. When she came for him he’d cup her ass in his hands and lift her to his mouth, burying his tongue into the midst of contractions that gulped greedily for penetration.

The throbbing in his gym shorts matched the pounding in his ears. He stroked his cock through his shorts with a heavily taped hand, squeezing every couple of strokes and getting a satisfying twitch that rolled through his hardness. Each slow stroke reminded him of her straddling his hips and sliding her freshly eaten pussy along the length of his cock. Powerful legs flexed against him as she rocked with slow precision until she found the ultimate spot where her clit caressed his velvety sweet spot. She’d fuck him like that. She’d fuck him with her clit until she came for him in a shuddering panic where her hands reached high over her head for everything, yet holding onto nothing.

Another squeeze sent a shudder of his own through his cock and ended with a tingle that spread across his lips. God, how he loved to fuck her. And he would, but not until it was time. Not until he had developed his equity. Not until she’d taken from him all she wanted. Not until she rolled off of him and asked him to take anything he wanted. Not until she begged him to use her pussy for himself. That’s when fucking changed hands. That’s when his love for her gave him permission to draw down on his equity and be selfish with his own pleasure. Yes, that’s when they both disappeared into the vibration that sweet Fuck conjured up to validate their lust. And when the final books were closed, and they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, come had come for one and all, and both accounts were securely in the black.

copyrighted salty

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