Gym 2

“Deep enough,” she said after a while. “Take it out. Put gel on your cock. And then you’ll finally do it.”

He pulled his fingers out. The ring didn’t quite close. Silke felt the emptiness immediately, that brief moment of openness that the camera captured from the side: a gleaming, used hole above a wet pussy, on a bench in a workout room, mask still on, door locked, footsteps somewhere in the building—perhaps still echoing.

He stood behind her. Pants down. His cock was hard again, thicker from what he’d just done with his fingers and mouth. Lube on the shaft, on the head, once more on her opening. He positioned himself.

The head pressed against the ring.

Silke exhaled, long and audibly. “Stop as soon as you’re through. Don’t thrust.”

He pushed.

There was resistance. Then it gave way. The head of his cock pushed through, stretching her, getting stuck—exactly where his finger had stopped before, only wider. Silke let out a sound that was half moan, half curse. Her hands clawed at him. Her toes curled on the bench. Her ass stayed up because she wanted it up, not because it didn’t hurt.

“It’s in,” she gasped. “Just the tip. Wait.”

He waited. His hands on her pelvis, not tight, just holding her. The cell phone from the side filmed the moment his cock disappeared inside her: the stretched skin, the gel pooling at the edge, her pussy beneath it, moving slightly with every breath.

Silke breathed. Once. Twice. Her body adjusted. The ring stopped resisting and began to hold him in place.

“More,” she said. “Slowly. I want every centimeter.”

He pushed further.

Centimeter by centimeter. Silke felt him filling her, deeper than his fingers, more unfamiliar, more definitive. When the head of his cock slid past the second tight spot, she moaned openly into the headrest. The mask stayed on. The face beneath it was contorted—she knew that—and that was exactly why the mask stayed on.

He was all the way in.

His balls pressed against her pussy. The shaft filled her. Silke lay there, chest on the bench, ass up, a cock in her ass for the first time, filmed from the side, in a workout room, after she’d walked naked through the building.

“The rabbit’s out of the bag,” she whispered hoarsely. “Now fuck me. Slowly. And hold the phone so people can see you taking my virgin ass.”

He began to move.

Not hard. Pulling out almost to the tip, then back in again; the lube made a soft squelching sound, her voice over it. Each thrust pushed her a little further along the bench. Her tits rubbed against the cushion. Her pussy dripped onto the bench, untouched and yet wet, because the pressure in her ass pulled everything else along with it.

Silke talked because she talked when she let herself be humiliated.

“You’re the first. Do you hear me? The first in this hole. And you’re doing this in a room where people usually do push-ups. The bench I’m lying on is for training. Now you’re training my ass.”

He groaned. The nervousness was still in his voice—if he said anything at all. Most of the time, he said nothing. He fucked her. Slower than in the locker room, deeper in a different sense. Silke felt every vein, every movement, the pulling away and the being filled again.

She reached back, between her own legs, and touched her pussy. Two fingers on her clit—wet, fast—while he took her ass. The double stimulation made her twitch. Her sphincter tightened around him. Peter gasped and got stuck for a moment.

“Don’t come,” she said. “Not yet. I want more.”

He picked up the pace a bit. Still controlled, but firmer. The bench creaked softly. The cell phone recorded how her ass gave way with every thrust and closed around the shaft, how gel and a little more glistened, how her fingers worked on her pussy, how the mask lay to the side and you could see her open mouth beneath it.

Silke came first.

Not as loudly as in the booth. Her body clenched, her entire lower half a spasm around the cock in her ass, her fingers wet at her pussy, a loud thrust into the cushion. The ring pulsed around him. She stayed in that position. Ass up. Chest down. “Keep going,” she squeezed out. “I want to feel you inside me while I’m still twitching.”

He kept fucking her through her orgasm. Silke let him, her forehead pressed against the cushion, her mask askew, her body exposed. When the spasms subsided, she said only:

“Come inside me. In my ass. I want to come down from this first time with your cum inside me.”

He came.

Deep. Warm. In spurts, while he held her tight so she’d stay in that position. Silke felt him empty himself, felt it spreading inside her—unfamiliar, final. He remained lodged inside her, breathing heavily, his hands trembling on her pelvis.

When he pulled out, she stayed where she was.

The ring closed slowly. Not quite. Something trickled out—warm—over her perineum, onto her pussy, onto the bench. The side camera had captured it: the hole that had just been used for the first time, slightly open, glistening, a streak of his fluid making its way downward.

Silke breathed. The mask was still on. Dry on top, her mouth wet beneath it.

“Film that too,” she said quietly. “Close up. So that later, people can see that the rabbit really did come out of the hat.”

She stayed in the pose until he brought the cell phone closer. Legs still spread. Ass still up. Visible for the first time. Door locked. Somewhere outside, the building where she’d run naked.

Only then did she sit up. Slowly. Her body different than before. Fuller. Used.

“Good slut,” she said to herself, or to him, or to the camera. It didn’t matter anymore. The words had been spoken. Her ass was no longer untouched. And the bench in the gym was no longer just for working out.

“Now please go. I need a few minutes. You’ll find me on the dance floor later.”

Silke locked the door behind him. She took off her mask and showered thoroughly—she wanted to be clean again for a little cuddling on the dance floor.