And in the same way Melly’s had a good effect on me, I’ve also altered her in some special ways. Working out and being healthy, for one.
“No, no,” she cried playfully the first time I invited her to the gym. “Don’t I already work out enough with you, Mace? You know, the Horizontal Club between the sheets.”
I snorted.
“Sure you do, sweetheart. I wear you out all the time, that’s for certain. But honey, you’re a doctor. You know that exercising does a body good.”
Melissa flushed a little, looking down.
“I know,” she said hesitantly. “It’s just that I’m big, you know? It’s always so embarrassing to be huge when there are gym bunnies wearing next to nothing and lifting fifty pound weights.”
I snorted.
“Yeah, and you know what? Those gym bunnies have faces full of make-up too. They’re not working out, sweetheart, they’re there to meet a gorilla who’ll take them out. After all, why not? The gym is as good of a place as any, and these guys are ripped and toned to boot. But seriously honey. Don’t even compare yourself to them. You look a thousand times better with or without clothes.”
Melissa blushed and bit her lip again, clutching the thin sheet to her chest. Oh shit, I could see her tits through the nearly transparent material, and the visualization of those boobies bouncing to and fro as she hit the treadmill turned me on.
But the brunette nodded her head again.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll give it a try. But only if you’re my personal trainer.”
“I’ll train you in a million ways you’ve never imagined,” was my dirty quip. “Now come on, let’s get crackin’ sweetheart. I wanna work that little body out until you’re drenched.”
And so this relationship has a lot of quid pro quo. She’s a good influence on me, and I’m a good influence on her too. Who would have guessed? Mace Jackson, billionaire asshole who lives to corrupt innocent girls is actually bringing a female to the gym because he likes her. No, I love her, and that’s the truth. I want everything Melissa has to give, and the time has come.
Strolling over to the yoga mats, I sit down next to the curvy girl. She’s on her back, stretching while waiting for me.
“Ready to do some sit-ups?” she asks saucily. Oh fuck. Mel’s no longer wearing baggy t-shirts and sweatpants to the gym. Instead, I’ve convinced her to buy some sassy outfits, and right now those big boobies are straining against the bra top, her bottom encased in tight yoga pants.
“Sure,” I growl, pupils already dilating. “Let’s get to it.”
But Mel shakes her head.
“You first,” she teases. “Lay back and I’ll pin your feet down.”
I arch an eyebrow at her before lying down and raising my knees into an inverted vee. Sit-ups are easy for me and I expect to blast through a set of a hundred in a couple minutes, no sweat.
But the brunette takes things into her own hands. She leans against my knees, big boobies pressed against my shins and presses her hands on my sneakered feet.
“Go to it,” she whispers naughtily. “Start your sit-ups.”
I look around. Holy fuck, can people see this? But fortunately, we’re in the corner of the room with no one nearby. Off in the distance are a couple muscleheads straining away as they lift weights, but their eyes are fixed on the mirror. They’re too into themselves to care.
So Melissa shoots me another naughty smile.
“Like I said, big guy, you ready to go?” she asks, pressing her breasts against me even tighter. “Because you know I like to get a good work out.”
And with that, she pulls her sports bra down until both tits pop out. They’re hidden from view because she’s pressed against my shins, but oh shit, I can feel those hard nipples against me. Those plump breasts are aroused as hell and fuck, if there isn’t a musky cunt smell wafting through the air.
Slowly, I put my hands behind my head and begin to sit-up.
“One,” she mewls before I go back down. “Two.”
But that’s when things get rancid. Because the girl is wearing some type of special yoga pant where there’s a slit at the crotch. What the hell? Who designed this? I’ve heard of transparent yoga pants, I’ve heard of shit that comes in rainbow colors. But crotchless yoga pants? Who knew? And as I do my sit-ups, the girl starts fingering herself, parting her legs so that I can see. First, she puts both thumbs on either side of her pussy lips, pulling her twat open.
“Shit,” I moan, gazing at her sweetest spot. “Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck is right,” she titters, pulling open her pink hole. “See that?” she mewls as it glistens wetly. “It’s so tight and wet for you.”
I almost spurt right there, this is so wrong. Because what the fuck? We’re in public, and yet she’s fingering her pussy for me? What the hell is going on?