I had been in the gym industry for the last ten years, seen it change from Lycra and leggings to hot bodies, gyms for women and personal trainers. I had worked as a trainer, step instructor and a fitness routine choreographer. I was now pacing back my work load, taking some time for myself, but happy to continue to train my favourite clients and work some reception shifts when I was needed.

I enjoy bodies, both beautiful and plain, men and women. I hold no censorship when it comes to beauty. Beauty can be a tattooed bicep of a European man, or the slight muscle of an elderly woman who has had her body strengthened and changed by the skill of gym instructors and her own determination.

My eyes caught the line of a thigh of a mid forties well built European man, he would come in regularly. As he put his gym ticket into the membership machine he would look tired and strained, by the time he had left, he had sweated, lifted weights, and run kilometers on a treadmill. He glowed and had a smile on him as big as the harbour bridge. He would always give me a wave and a wink as he left, restored and sated, ready to take on the next part of his evening

I noticed the beauty of a grey haired woman, fiftyish, toned, stylish. It was the type of hair that caught your eye, the type that shouldn’t be dyed but left to stand in its grandeur; dyeing would only spoil its glory. It had once been black, but now steel gray, thick and beautiful. Her face was soft and suited her hair, in the way of the English Helen Mirren, or the American folk singer, Emmy Lou Harris. Her breasts were full, and her arse was toned; both things that appealed in a woman. They say that after a certain age a woman has to choose between her face and her arse; I disagree with that. Sometimes with good bone structure, health, and help from a personal trainer like myself; you can definitely be gifted with both.

I found her attractive, I am the first to admit this, but to my pleasure, I noticed my European glowing gym man did as well. They seemed to fall into a habit of coming to the gym in the early evenings. The man usually arrived a little later than the woman, smile at me, acknowledge her, then get down to work out business. As the gym quietened in the early evening, they would be drawn together, using the free weights, treadmill and the step machine. I heard snippets of their conversation as I walked past, they both had two boys and a mutual interest in cats. I loved this time of day at the gym, when the shadows were falling from the buildings outside. I volunteered to work the reception desk and weight room in the evenings. The gym members were there for themselves, they didn’t need guidance, just an acknowledgement and a smile, then they would move back into their training.

As the months progressed, the two became friends, and their relationship deepened. She would stroke his arm as he spoke, it was a fine arm, I must add, tight bicep, olive skin, lower arm and fist. To be completely honest I would have loved to dabble with that arm as well. He would greet her at first, with a kiss to each cheek; then as their relationship deepened he went straight to her lips.

I had noticed from his records that he was coming up to his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday on the day, as he arrived. He lent over the reception desk and kissed my cheek. ‘I’ll be forty four, almost middle age, tell me I don’t look it.’ ‘You don’t’, I replied. ‘You really don’t look it, you’re beautiful.’ I felt myself blushing, as his eyes twinkled at me. Fortunately the phone rang; I turned to answer it, trying to compose myself. I put down the receiver and turned back to him, but he had gone. My grey haired gym girl arrived at that moment; she was wearing a new gym top that I didn’t recognise. It was dark grey with blue stitching, which drew the colours to her face. I hadn’t seen her look so beautiful. I gave her a wave from the computer where I was setting up staff rosters and watched her walk into the dressing room.

I had an office, which was set behind the reception area. I kept my coffee maker, china cups, makeup and a mirror, and books in my own private kingdom. My mirror was set on a revolving stand, I used it to touch up my makeup, but its real purpose was to let me see who was at the reception desk, and whether they needed to be attended to, or left alone to swipe their membership card into the machine and head for the gym floor.

I maneuvered the mirror towards the reception desk, and swept it pass the storage room and over the entrance to the sick bay. A movement caught my eye. I saw a face that I recognised, lowered the mirror and recognised the shock of steel grey hair. I watched in amazement, my eye riveted to the scene. There was the man with his head flung back in ecstasy, his woman on her knees with the thickest longest most gorgeous cock about to enter her lips. As I stared through the mirror, he unzipped her top, lowered her crop top and took her breasts in his hands. They were as magnificent as I had imagined, full, majestic, with pink nipples, being stroked by his fingers. This was a moment in time that I had been given; before the second passed, and he pushed his cock into her mouth for the first time. The pleasure in his face was unforgettable, as he held her breasts and she took him deep into her body. ‘Awesome’, was the word he mouthed, as his body quivered and his orgasm started. She raised her head to catch his eyes, they gazed at each other, she opened her mouth a little wider as he pushed in.

I ran my hands down onto my lips, throat and breast, wishing it was me. I looked again; she was licking and sucking, one hand at the base of his cock, the other tweaking his balls. He was in heaven. The bell rang at the reception desk. I moved the mirror back to its allotted place, checked my lipstick; my eyes were glowing, my breasts heavy, and pussy aroused. I tore myself away from the blow job, wished him happy birthday in my mind, and returned to my job.

I smiled to myself as I realised that the gym camera also filmed in the sick bay, and I could replay the film any time I liked. I knew deep down that the camera wasn’t important, I had seen the scene. I was happy to replay their moment in my mind, whenever I wanted, wherever I was.