by Night Writer

As Megan Walsh pulled on her leotard, she wondered if aerobic exercise affected other women the way it affected her. Glancing around at the other laughing, chatting women in the ladies' locker room told her nothing. They all seemed calm and relaxed as they dried off their naked bodies with towels or stripped off blouses and skirts to pull on their workout gear. Some of them seemed a little self-conscious, but that was probably only because they weren't used to undressing in a public place.

None of them seemed to share Megan's worries. She just knew how her workout session was going to end - with her so horny that she'd be ready to explode for relief.

Even now, just thinking about what lay ahead of her, Megan's nipples were growing erect. She pulled on the top of her red leotard, trying not to notice the sensous feel of the fabric sliding over her tender breasts. As she zipped up the back, she tried to calm herself down.

She was just here for a workout. Nothing more. Megan looked down at her body, filling out her outfit in ways that didn't do much for her self-image. She was coming along, she had to admit. Her stomach didn't protrude as much as it used to, although she still wore a yellow shirt over her top. Just like her instructor had promised, the strengthening of her chest muscles was causing her breasts to appear bigger and fuller. Her legs were firming up nicely, although the thighs were a little heavier than she'd like.

But Megan didn't even want to think about her butt. She could feel it pulling down the back of her leotard, the cloth tucked under the folds of her cheeks. Megan figured that would be the last to go.

That was what she was here for. To fix herself up, get rid of excess baggage, feel good, and look great. But there had been an unexpected side effect. Now Megan wondered if her main reason for attending her aerobics classes so regularly was because they were so incredibly sexy. The moves she was told to make, thrusting and bobbing up and down...they drove her crazy.

As she laced up her sneakers, Megan wondered if other women noticed it. She was too embarrassed to ask her friends. What if she was the only one? They'd think she was some kind of pervert, especially if they found out what she did afterwards. So she just kept going, exercising and trying to banish the thoughts that flowed through her mind during the workouts. And secretly looking forward to each new class for reasons that had nothing to do with health.

That's what bothered her most about all this. She wasn't looking to get off in her classes. It was matter of health. It seemed somehow wrong to be getting hot and bothered over exercise. And she had never really been comfortable with her own sexuality. But these classes were bringing her face-to-face with it.

It was starting already. When her leotard was in place, Megan shut her locker and stood for a moment in front of it, savoring the feel of it. The spandex was great, like a second skin. It kept her cool, even during the heaviest workouts. But that feeling had another side to it. It was as if she wasn't wearing anything at all, standing naked in the middle of the locker room. That's one reason why she wore a short t-shirt over her top.

But even as she walked through the locker room, weaving among the wooden benches and crowds of other women, Megan couldn't suppress the fantasy that rolled through her mind. She walked out of the locker room into the bustling lobby, and could easily imagine that she was naked. Calmly walking among these people, past the front desk to the aerobics studios, her body bared for all to see.

It was easy to imagine with her chest bobbing unrestrained under her t-shirt, the air flowing around herself the way it would tickle her exposed skin. There were no skirts or pants to carress her legs as she walked. No cloth rippling on her skin. The only reminder was the weight of her sneakers on her feet, and she could imagine that she was nude except for a pair of Lady Gear sneakers. That somehow made the fantasy more delicious. As the thought struck her, she felt the smooth warmth of arousal flowing through her body. She had never realized she was a closet exhibitionist before her spandex fantasies began.

Walking into the studio brought goosebumps to her arms and back. It was almost a Pavlovian response now. The room had become firmly identified to her with sex. The way the sunlight flowed through the window onto the hardwood floors, which gave the air the spicy scent of hickory, the creaks and squeaks of other women walking over it...they were all triggers to her that made her ordeal to remain calm even harder.

But she tried, as always. Megan looked around the room at the other exercisers, focusing on something else. The usual twinges of envy came to her as she took in the women who already looked gorgeous, and just seemed to come to aerobics classes to make other women feel lousy. They chatted with other unbelievably-built women or stretched their muscles in complex routines, casually adorned in skimpy outfits that displayed their washboard stomachs, and buttocks that looked like they were carved from flesh-colored marble.

One day, Megan told herself, I'll look like that. Then I'll bring about world peace and go ice-skating in hell.

Megan sighed and took her place on the floor. She began the warm-up exercises, flexing her arms and legs. As the tension in her body began to fade, the instructor jogged into the room.

Tiffany always reminded Megan of a pixie - small and energetic. Today, she was wearing a leotard with fireworks printed all over it that made her look like the sky during a Fourth of July celebration. That fit her nicely. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail that draped over her shoulders as she bent over to fix her laces. When she straightened, it was with her usual brilliant, flawless smile.

"Good morning, ladies," she said. "Are we ready to work out?"

Megan cheered with the other women, part of their usual ritual. Tiffany punched the air with her fists, then hopped over to the stereo. She pushed in the tape, then took her place at the front of the room. Her back was to a mirror running the length of the studio, allowing Megan to see herself and the rest of the class during the workout. The other women were taking their places alongside her.

Here we go, Megan thought, steeling herself for what was to come. The warmth which had faded on her focus of the workout was coming back.

Tiffany clapped her hands and began what was always her running commentary during the workout. "Okay, today we're gonna work on our lower half. Our hips, thighs, and buttocks. Gonna get us a nice rear view, right, girls?"

Megan groaned inwardly. These exercises were always the best for her rear-end, but the worst for trying to resist her desires.

The music started, a rock song with a steady beat that was perfect to exercise to. Tiffany moved to stand with her legs apart. "Okay, hands on hips, legs apart, knees slightly bent. And let's begin. Right, left, and right, and left..."

She raised one hand in the air, bending her waist to one side, then the other. Megan echoed her movements just as everyone else in the room did. She moved as gracefully as she could, feeling kinks work out of her body that she had never noticed before. Twisting her waist and rotating her shoulders, according to Tiffany's instructions, brought calmness to her that made the stresses of the day melt away.

"Come on," Tiffany breathed, "you can do it. Up and down, up and down..."

Tiffany planted her hands on her hips and began to bob up and down in squats. It had begun. Megan obeyed, moving up and down, her thighs spreading, then coming together, over and over again. And Megan's fantasies began.

She could feel the lips of her slit opening and closing slightly with her movements. It was like a mouth, whispering softly to her, drawing her attention downward towards it. As she looked at herself in the mirror, Megan couldn't help imagining someone filling the space between her legs. Her hands rested on her hips, but they could be pressed against the firm waist of a man. A man lying beneath her, firm and waiting with a fleshy blade that pierced her tunnel.

"You're doing great, ladies," Tiffany chirped. "Okay, down on the floor."

Tiffany changed positions. She got down to let her hands rest on the floor. Megan copied her, bending over in a crouch, her hips rising and falling. It was such a perfect move, one Megan imagined had been designed specifically for the devious imagination. What woman could assume this position and not imagine she was riding a hard cock. Wouldn't thrust down hard, imagining the feel of a stiff rod sliding deep within her crevices. Wouldn't feel themselves growing hot and moist deep inside themselves. It was like the air itself under her had solidified into a dildo that Megan could pierce herself on, biting her lip to keep from making noises of pleasure as she moved up and down.

Megan watched herself in the mirror, then looked out at the others in the room. All of them hunched over like crabs, humping their invisible men. A silent orgy that everyone was pretending didn't exist. But she could see it. She could feel it.

There was a twinge of disappointment as Tiffany stood up and clapped her hands to end the exercise. "Okay, let's jog in place!"

And they began to jog. Megan began to move, feeling her chest bouncing up and down. Lazy ripples flowed through the smooth flesh of her breasts. The nipples began to slide around against the fabric of her leotard.

Megan closed her eyes, feeling her body moving in time with the music. The rosebuds on her chest were rock-hard, tightening as they were tickled ever-so-gently from the cloth. It wasn't a lot, but it was just enough of a sensation that it caused the warmth from inside her to grow. That, coupled with the attention being drawn to her jiggling mounds, made her see that this was going to be a very difficult session.

Tiffany kept them working like that for fifteen minutes, bouncing from one leg to the next, switching gaits, and rotating their arms. Through it all, Megan felt her leotard growing damp with sweat. By the time Tiffany called it off, the material was cool and wet against Megan's skin.

And her nipples were jutting out proudly. That was part of the reason Megan wore a t-shirt. They concealed her arousal from prying eyes. But as she looked at the other exercisers in the mirror, Megan could see that several women were hardened. Even Tiffany's tiny cones stood out on her heaving chest, making her breasts clearly-defined, almost naked in appearance.

It was one of the things that made Megan wonder if she was the only one who responded to aerobics this way. But she told herself they were most likely responding to the movements of cloth on their nipples when they jogged up and down. It was a natural response. But Megan wondered.

"Okay," Tiffany said as she came to halt. "Time to work those legs. Everybody get your mats and get on the floor."

Megan joined the others as they dragged mats from a pile in the corner to their places on the exercise floor. She lay down on the soft cushion, joining Tiffany who was lying on her side, bracing herself with an arm.

"Okay," Tiffany said, "right leg up...and down. Up...and down."

Megan began to raise and lower her right leg, extended straight out from her body. Her thigh muscle began to burn with fatigue. The others in the room echoed Tiffany's routine as she chattered about fat-burning. Megan tuned her out.

The invisible man was back. Megan could feel her wet lips spreading as she raised her leg, the firm shaft thrusting into her from the side. Every time she exposed her damp crotch was her lover plunging himself deep into her body. She bit her lip as she watched herself in the mirror. Megan casually rested a hand on the inside of her thigh, trying to make it look like a random gesture. But it wasn't her hand. It was the rockhard grip of the phantom raising her leg to ease his entry into her.

She was helpless under his command, in the guise of Tiffany's voice. It wasn't a woman's voice, but a man's as Megan heard the command, "Down on the floor. Come on, get that leg up. Faster, faster..."

Faster. Faster. Deeper. Deeper. These were the words the echoed through Megan's mind, whispering to her pleasurer as he forced himself into her. She could feel droplets forming, oozing out of her to dampen the seat of her leotard. The warmth of her desires was becoming a heat that spread from her depths out into her body.

By this time, all her inhibitions had faded away. All thoughts of banishing her arousal were gone. Now she wanted it, craved it, at the same time wanting more. Relief.

Then came the moment that Megan always looked forward to and dreaded. Tiffany called out, "Okay, on your backs! Rock those hips!"

Megan obeyed, rolling onto his spine. Her buttocks sank deeply in the now-warmed plastic of the mat beneath her. Megan let her head rest on the bed of her curls of brown hair. She could feel her face growing hot and tingly. When she looked in the mirror, her cheeks were red and flushed. Her breath was coming out in slow, deep breaths that she hoped the woman next to her would think was just exertion.

Tiffany was on her back. Her legs were curved up in the air, spread wide. She began to curl her hips upwards while keeping her back flat. "One, and two, and three, and four..."

Megan shifted into position, drawing up her legs to pull her heels in. She looked down between her spread thighs and began to rock her hips upwards. The red bikini bottom of her leotards formed a graceful V that pointed down to her mound, curving over it. Megan could see the damp circle covering the entrance of her body.

"Come on," Tiffany yelled, "harder, harder! Work those buns! Tighten! Tighten!"

Megan could feel him now. He was on top of her, crushing her with his weight. As her pelvis rose upwards, she felt him penetrate her with his shaft. She could almost feel the walls of her tunnel expanding to embrace him. In reality, they were burning with desire, tingling as they oozed juices. Megan thrust upwards, clenching her butt-cheeks, each time imagining herself being impaled by her ghostly lover.

Megan rolled her head to one side to watch herself in the mirror. It was so easy to imagine someone lying on top of her prone body, running his hands over her. She looked out at the rows of other women, all in a state of simulated bliss. Were they all thinking of these things? Were their fantasies running wild as they humped the cool air of the studio? How could they not be? Was she the only one who saw how easily these movements could be transferred to the bedroom?

Megan felt the tingling in her crevices growing stronger, now bringing with them waves of pleasure. She knew she wouldn't last like this much longer. If she kept going, she was going to cum just from this action alone. Already, she felt something building up inside her, her clitoris burning hot beneath its hood.

Then, Tiffany said, "And release!"

Megan relaxed, letting her hips rest on the mat once again. Everyone else dropped as well with a combined sigh of relief. It was only then that Megan noticed the burn of fatigue from her leg and buttock muscles. One good thing about her fantasies; they took her mind off the exercise.

"Good job," Tiffany said as she rolled into a sitting position. "Now let's cool down. Legs apart, and stretch..."

Megan echoed her stance, sitting with her legs spread to her sides. She began to twist at the waist in copy of Tiffany, but she knew she wouldn't cool down. She could smell the hot, spicy odor of her arousal rising up from her body. There was only one thing that could cool her down, what always ended her aerobics sessions.

Megan worked quickly to put her mat back and head back to the locker room. The slippery feel of her leotard of her crotch was a constant reminder of what waited for her.

Megan crossed the ladies' locker room with broad strides to her locker. She quickly stripped off her leotard, trying to hide the dampness of her pubic hair, and the trickles running down her thighs when her panties were drawn away. She wrapped a thick, fluffy towel around herself and headed straight for the showers.

They were in a room set apart, a row of stalls along one wall with curtains to cover them. Megan hung up her towel on a hook, then grabbed a bar of soap from the dish and climbed into one of the stalls. When she had drawn the curtain, making sure it was sealed tight to avoid prying eyes, she started the water running.

Megan closed her eyes as the water flowed down her body, warming her skin, dribbling down her sensitized breasts like fingers. This was what she always felt so horribly about. She hated to be doing something like this in the middle of a crowded locker room. Megan could hear a woman in the stall next to hers, humming a Rod Stewart song to herself. Megan felt naked and exposed, even though she knew no one could see her. But she had to do it.

Megan ran a hand down her neck, letting the spray hit her fingers, expanding into a fine mist. She let her hand drift down, spreading over her chest, then began to massage her nipples. Megan closed her eyes at the sensation. They had been aching for contact for so long, and now they responded with full force, transforming into beads that loved to be touched. Megan used her other hand, rolling her breasts with her fingers like dough.

She leaned back against the wall behind her. Megan turned herself so that the shower spray struck her right nipple. It felt so good, like tiny hands running all over it. Megan kept the contact on until her body trembled in a shiver, then she moved to give her left nipple the same treatment. As she did so, Megan let her right hand drift downwards.

Her pubic hair was dripping from the water as well as from inside. Megan ran her fingers through the soft curls until she reached her swollen lips. She ran her index finger through the wet slit. Water trickled down her stomach to curve around her buried finger as she moved it up and down, teasing her opening. With every stroke, Megan spread her legs wider and wider, rolling her head back to press against the smooth wall of the shower. The combined sensations on her water-beaten nipple and in her fleshy cave were almost more than she could bear.

For a moment, Megan became acutely aware of where she was. The hiss of the shower's spray, and the perfumed scent of soap in the hot, steamy air. She heard the laughter and conversation of the women in the locker room, and the humming and bumps of movement coming from the next stall. She thought about how only a few inches of plastic and plaster seperated the two of them, and of how shocked this woman would be if the wall suddenly disappeared. The woman would find herself staring into a shower where Megan was sprawled against the wall, her finger buried in herself. The thought made Megan even hotter, intensifying the feelings crushing her body.

Megan moved her right hand up to her clitoris. She used three fingers and began rubbing them over her smooth hood in quick circles. Her knees buckled as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Megan began to breathe harder and faster, hoping the rushing water would cover her gasping. Megan bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tight as she rotated her fingers on her clit even faster.

Her clitoris was tingling and burning with pleasure. She could feel something coming up from inside her depths, rising and swelling until it reached a point of no return. Megan switched to hard, fast up and down motions, slashing her clitoris with total abandon.

The orgasm came with an explosion of her clit, spreading to her vagina. Her legs collapsed, leaving her sliding to the floor. Megan was barely aware of it as she came, her muscles tightening in quick spasms. Megan just lay there, convulsing with pleasure as her tunnel contracted in violent jerks. When the convulsions faded, Megan remained on the tiled floor, taking slow breaths, coming back to reality.

Megan opened her eyes. She realized she was lying in a public shower in the afterglow of orgasm, and felt a rush of shame. She hated this feeling. She became aware of the woman in the next stall, and wondered if she had heard the noises Megan had made. Had she figured out what her shower partner was doing? Apparently not. The woman was still humming. No one suspected a thing.

Megan got back to her feet, but gradually and unsteadily. The muscles of her legs were still weakened, but she forced them to keep her standing as she soaped and washed off the sweat from her workout. Her *other* workout. When she was done, Megan drew the curtain and stepped out of the stall.

She dried herself and headed back to the locker room to dress. When she was fully-clothed and buckling up her jeans, Megan glanced around herself at the other women. Was she really the only one who aerobics classes affected this way? Was she the only one who had ever masturbated in the showers? Or could the stalls speak of shielding the passions of a hundred women from public view? Megan guessed she'd never know, since she would never tell.

She left the aerobics studio, feeling silly as usual for her actions. But there was a spring in her step. Megan was looking forward to her next aerobics class.

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