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aching breasts and making me
wince. I didn't have time to pick another outfit, though, I didn't
want to upset my new trainer more than he probably already was.
    In
a skin tight top that showed a little too much cleavage, and pants
that highlighted the curves of my ass and hips, I ran from my
apartment and hurried down the street to the gym.

    ****

    As
I expected, Drake was not pleased.
    He
took one look at me, breathless and with my hair a mess, and pointed
at the tread mill. “Twenty minutes, go.”
    I
hung my head, and didn't waste a second.
    On
the machine, I was panting, but there was another problem that
presented itself. The friction of my sports bra was distracting,
rubbing over my sensitive, hard nipples and making them into little
protruding bumps. I caught a look at myself in the mirrors across the
room, the way my breasts were bouncing with every step, and I blushed
furiously.
    Why am I so
turned on today? I was thankful
the gym was quiet, there were only one or two other people doing
their own thing, so I was spared some humiliation there. As if the
fates were against me, that was when Drake came by, arms folded and
his muscles flexing.
    His
eyes were hot, almost angry as they stared at me. It made me more
aware of my body, of how my pants were digging into my ass with every
step, my thighs scissoring together. I realized, as my breathing
increased and I started to sweat, that I hadn't changed my panties or
cleaned up after my morning orgasm.
    Between
my legs, my pussy was still soaked, and every motion seemed to be
making it worse. My clit, swollen and tingling, was getting rubbed by
the slick material as I ran. It was beyond distracting, it was almost
obscene. I could see in my reflection the wet patch growing, the
material starting to dig into my slit and almost highlight my pussy
for anyone watching.
    Oh god, does
Drake notice?
    This wasn't like me,
I never got so turned on out of the blue. I kept running, as if to
escape the growing wetness, the rising tingles shooting into my lower
belly, but I each step just took me closer to what I was afraid of.
    I needed to stop
running, or I was going to make myself cum.
    Anxiously, I shot a
pleading look at Drake, ready to just jump off. His eyes, though,
they were sharp as glass. As if reading my mind, he frowned and
commanded me with irritation, “don't even try to stop, Freya.
We have to make up for time lost, keep going, and faster!”
    I felt insanely
ashamed about showing up late, but debated if it was worse to keep
running. Was it actually possible for me to orgasm like this? Could
my body really be getting that worked up?
    In the mirror, I
watched myself, trying to make sense of what I saw. I had been in
pretty good shape before, but I was chasing a fitness gig, I needed
to tone up. Somehow, though, I thought that my outfit, my cleavage,
it all seemed to enhance how I looked. My chest had been alright
before, but the way it was bouncing, the bullets of my nipples
outlined, I wondered if my breasts didn't look a little... bigger?
    No, that's crazy.
Worry about the real things, like how soaked your pussy is getting!
    My cheeks were hot
as embers, my panting loud, and not just from exertion. I was visibly
excited, and the mounting pressure growing in my lower belly was
about to erupt.
    I needed to stop, my
clit was getting rubbed faster and faster, but I couldn't. I just
couldn't let Drake down.
    The chance to escape
was long gone, and with my head hanging down, I grabbed the handles
on the treadmill and groaned through clenched teeth. The fire between
my thighs spread, seeming to flow down to my toes, and everything
tightened as the climax ripped through my body.
    I stumbled, losing
my balance, my panties ruined and my thin pants damp from my own
juices. Breathing heavy, humiliated and confused, I felt Drake
grabbing my shoulders as I still rippled with pleasure. I had cum,
and I had cum hard, in public.
    “ Freya, are
you alright?” He sounded worried, but I