She had a very pretty face, I noticed at last, and was flashing a beautiful smile at some of the regulars as she cued up her workout tape. Her hair was long and shiny black, tied back in a cute ponytail. There was not an ounce of excess flesh anywhere to be seen; her small, compact body was taut as a drum all over.
“Wow,” I said. The word just slipped out, I was so taken with her. She turned briefly and looked at me, then returned to what she was doing. Under other circumstances, she might have thought it unusual to see a guy standing up close to her, an obvious erection poking at the front of his shorts, staring at her body and practically drooling.
She brushed past me and jogged lightly to the center of the floor. God, she moved like a cat! No, like a tiger, long muscles flowing under the skin. This, I thought, promises to be fun!
The class got started, the instructor leading them through some light stretching and other warm-up exercises. It was a fair-sized crowd for the relatively small gymnasium, perhaps fifty or sixty in all, among whom I counted about ten men. I didn’t bother joining in; I just stood near the edge of the gym and watched the woman in the center. I found that a few aerobicizers were impeding my view of her; I projected a command that a clear aisle was to be maintained for me at all times.
After a few minutes, the main aerobic segment began: complex combinations of knee raises, leg lifts, stride jumps, and so on, moving back and forth across the gym. As she led the class, the teacher would change positions from time to time, moving out of the center to the front or the back. Many of the exercisers got an extra workout while hustling to keep from moving between me and her. Everyone was constantly checking—quite unaware that they were doing it—to make sure that my line of sight was clear.
There was a great deal of bouncing going on, and I was enjoying watching the leader as she ricocheted around the room with apparently limitless energy. But perhaps I could enjoy this just a little bit more, I thought, if…
Everyone make sure that you’re doing the same thing the instructor is doing at all times, I wide-projected. I turned my attention to the current object of my desire. That leotard is quite itchy, I sent to her. Your breasts feel all uncomfortable, and they’re too confined in there.
As she performed the movements of the routine, her hands started to dart up to brush her tits, futilely scratching an itch that would not go away until I willed it. She also tugged at the straps of her outfit, trying to loosen it for comfort. I was amused to see the movements echoed all around the room, men and women scratching their chests and pulling on their clothing.
You’ll stop itching and feeling all bound up if you just push your top down a bit, I projected. Go ahead.
While still doing knee lifts, she reached up and eased the straps of her leotard off her shoulders, peeling it down to her waist. She wore a simple white sports bra underneath. Her smile grew wider with relief, and she threw herself into the next set of moves with great enthusiasm.
The bra, too. Throw it to the edge of the gym.
She reached behind her and unfastened it, then threw it off to one side. A hail of bras followed as the rest of the class imitated her.
The instructor’s breasts, now bouncing free, were topped by small but prominent nipples. Looking around, I was greeted by the pleasant sight of a sea of bare-chested women. The men were bare-chested as well; they were looking around too, not finding the situation unusual but certainly appreciating it.
Why not get rid of the whole leotard? Just toss it.
She had to stop moving for a moment to accomplish this. Stepping quickly out of it, she threw the leotard—surprisingly small when not filled by a body—to the edge of the gym. This left her clad only in her white leggings, which ran from her knees up to her waist, where they rode low on her hips. Again, a flurry of clothing from the class soon joined hers. The men shed their shorts or spandex tights and continued to work out in their underwear; that they were finding this an unusually stimulating class was now quite obvious to anyone who cared to look.
I sat down, content to just sit back and take in the scenery for a while. The class moved on to strength exercises, push-ups and sit-ups and other movements, all of which had interesting effects on the anatomies of the females. Eventually, they moved on to an exercise for the inner thigh: lying on their backs with legs straight up in the air, they lowered their legs out to the sides, then brought them back together again. I stood up.
Strip, I told the instructor. Everything off.
She stopped what she was doing, sat up, and hastily removed her shoes and socks, then rolled the leggings down to her ankles and slid them off. She wore nothing beneath them.
