Chapter 4: At the club.

I'm not sure that last text was exciting.
It was more of a dissertation than a short story.
You already know about this behavior of mine and <unk>tara<unk> for rubbing myself on furniture and objects.
We can extrapolate a little bit from that, consider new scenarios.
In the days when I wrote these chapters and saved them in Word before I posted them, I took the time to see if I could spice things up.
How about a more public setting to get out of that comfort zone?
One of the places I go to is a club with sports and gym areas, and there's a lot of beautiful people here, a lot of healthy cat, a lot of sexy girl, and there's a lot of ordinary people, so not even me, a little skinny girl.
It's an environment that transpires sensuality.
The sweaty bodies in tight clothes, and I come in very plain, with my sweatpants and my sweatpants, my regular leggings, not the tops of someone who's an amateur gymnast.
I come in shorts sometimes, go out to play tennis once in a while.
I usually come at times when most people are working, so it's not very crowded, it's a bit empty and even the instructors are rearranged to be at the busiest times.
Exaggerating a bit, you can almost be alone in the club environments.
I don't even use the club pool because we have one at home, but the few times I've used it, I've been spanked in the water, both by pimps and by a few rascals and even perverted little uncles, which is probably why we stopped using the club pool.
But I like to think about the big, empty spaces that you have here and how there are times when I believe that I could sit in the middle of the gym and hit a siren right there and no one would see.
I've rubbed my bib over my leggings while sitting on a rig, and I've been imagining the sweat of whoever wore it before me, and I saw that it was a handsome, strong guy.
All right, I know I'm traveling, and people are wearing towels and stuff, but there's still a little bit of the sweat, the heat of the person, so I saw that he had gotten up and walked away, and I hurried over to sit where he was, to feel the warmth of his body and do a little rolling to absorb his sweat through the fabric of my trousers.
You guys, it's not about being rational.
I just wanted to enjoy the moment and let my imagination feed off that scenery.
So I fantasized and I got excited, thinking I could smell it, and maybe I could, maybe it was just imaginary, but it doesn't matter, as long as the result is something that warms the inside and warms the skin on the outside.
Some cats come over and want to "help" with the exercises.
I know.
Oh, if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd let myself get carried away.
But since you can always have a hard toe, better not risk it.
I pretend to be misunderstood and innocent.
I let them touch me a little, take my arm, put their hand on my waist. When they start wanting to slide their hand on my legs I already pretend a certain pose of offended. I ignore, I say that I have a boyfriend. Such things.
Look, it's potatoes that they insist on anyway.
If I said I didn't like it, I'd be lying, but I'm also not gonna let this go down the wrong path.
Some places in the club have handrails.
I've sat on some of them a few times, and sometimes it's like I'm on a horse, and more than once, some guy walks by and almost hits a wall with his face because he twists his neck to see me in that position, and I think it's got to be a little noticeable, because I'm sitting there with an aluminum bar between my legs, wearing shorts or something.
But it won't be long before I'm out for a shower or straight home, which is close by.
I've fantasized about riding an easel or a thinner rail in front of all those men at the gym while they jerk off to me.
Oh, my God.
I guess I'm just too clueless sometimes.
What do you think?