Skipped lecture today—professor called out sick, and honestly, I wasn’t mad about it. Figured I’d hit the neighborhood gym instead. It’s this hole-in-the-wall spot, always empty except for peak hours, and since I’m a member, why not? Rolled in around 11 AM, towel over my shoulder, expecting the usual ghost town vibe.

Pushed through the door, and bam. There she was.

Sprawled out on a yoga mat in the back corner, dead to the world. Mid-20s, killer body glistening with sweat under those thin gray yoga shorts and crop top. Her ass was a masterpiece—round, firm, the kind that makes you question reality—pointed right up like she passed out mid-child’s pose or something. Dark hair splayed across the mat, face turned sideways, lips parted in that deep-sleep pout. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, sheer enough from the sweat that I could see the outline of everything. No bra, no panties lines. Just pure, sweat-soaked temptation.

The gym was empty. Not a soul at the desk, no clanging weights, just the faint hum of the AC and my heartbeat suddenly going double-time. Holy fuck, is this real? She’s out cold, but what if she wakes up? What if someone walks in? I thought, frozen in the doorway, cock already stirring in my shorts.

I should’ve turned around. Grabbed a treadmill, pretended I didn’t see her. But that ass… it was calling me. I crept closer, shoes silent on the rubber floor. Knelt down beside her mat, close enough to smell the mix of her sweat and vanilla lotion. Just a quick touch. That’s all. Nobody’s here.

My hand trembled as I reached out. Fingertips first, grazing the curve of her ass cheek through the thin fabric. Warm. Slick with sweat. She didn’t move. I got bolder, palm flat now, cupping one full globe, squeezing gently. Fuck, it was perfect—soft but toned, the kind you sink into. I traced the seam down the middle, feeling the heat radiating from between her thighs. God, she’s so exposed. One wrong move and she’ll bolt up screaming. But damn, this feels too good to stop.

Heart pounding like I’d just run a marathon, I leaned in closer. Hooked my fingers under the hem of her shorts, tugged them aside just enough to expose bare skin. No panties. Smooth, shaved, her pussy lips peeking out, glistening like she’d been working herself up before crashing. What if a member walks in right now? Door’s unlocked. I’d be fucked. But the risk made it hotter. I couldn’t resist—dipped my head, tongue out, and licked a slow, flat stripe right along the curve of her ass cheek. Salty sweat, warm flesh. She tasted like sin. I went for another, bolder this time, tracing down to where her thighs met, tongue flicking against the edge of her lips. She let out a tiny sigh in her sleep, hips shifting the slightest bit. Shit, is she waking? No, no, keep going. Just a little more.

I was rock-hard now, pre-cum leaking through my shorts. No time for subtlety. I yanked my waistband down, freed my cock, and started stroking fast and filthy while my other hand groped her ass harder, spreading her cheeks. This is insane. She’s gonna feel it, hear it. But fuck, look at that ass—it’s begging for it. Two more licks, tongue delving between her cheeks, tasting her fully now, and that was it. I exploded, thick ropes shooting across her exposed ass, painting those perfect cheeks white, some dripping down into the crease, marking her like she was mine.

She stirred. A real stir this time—eyelids fluttering, another soft moan, body starting to shift. Oh fuck, oh fuck, she’s waking up!

Panic hit like ice water. I tucked myself away mid-drip, wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and bolted for the door. Didn’t even grab my towel. Burst out into the sunlight, heart racing, shorts sticky, sweating bullets even though I hadn’t lifted a single weight. Drove home shaking, replaying every second in my head. That ass, that taste, my cum drying on her skin while she woke up confused and alone. Wonder if she felt it. Wonder if she liked it.

Best non-workout of my life.