Gotta give thanks to the designers of women’s workout wear. Yes, I totally understand the clothing is meant to be functional as females contort their bodies for the sake of fitness. But I have to admit my imagination gets the best of me in Pilates class when nine women are in downward dog positions — hands on the floor with their bottoms raised as high as possible.

“Watch the positioning of your lower back,” Kenzie, the instructor, told me the other day, briefly gliding her palm along my body. Warmth flared inside me. “You don’t want too much of a curve,” she cautioned.

Her guiding hand gave me more of a thrill than it should have, even as I strove to follow her orders.

My path to joining the gym started out in a rather unglamorous fashion: I tweaked my knee at a company softball game. It was Accounting versus the IT department, and as a former high school jock, I led the tech warriors.

I was on second when Gabe hit a line drive to first. Lexi caught it easily. But it was the bottom of the ninth with one out, so Mark decided to head for home from third, and I booked it, too. But the sound of the ball hitting the catcher’s leather glove derailed everything. Mark chickened out, leaving me high and dry. I charged back to second and discovered I wasn’t as flexible as I’d been as a teenager.

The umpire threw his arms out and shouted, “Safe!”

But my body didn’t agree. I had to limp off the field and into physical therapy, which is how I found myself in Pilates class.

Sometimes, it feels like I signed up for dominatrix sessions — a little bit of pain mixed in with my pleasure. But there are different instructors with varying methods — stricter drill sergeants for those with a taste for tops and encouraging souls who let their students off a little easy.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ve never tried to score with any of the staff. Besides, I’m sure they have a policy against liaisons with clients. But class is always a hot prelude to my nighttime jerk-off sessions: a firm correction on the small of my back, the suggestion to stretch out and open my legs wider. Oh, yeah.

Those workouts provide plenty of fodder for my fantasies, and I add to the fun by dreaming up dirty uses for the tools and equipment we utilize during our routines.

Some of the women treat the class like it’s some sort of fashion show, and their fancy, formfitting duds leave little to the imagination. I’ve read that tighter clothing is better because it reduces the chance of fabric getting caught in the equipment. I’m glad the gals take their safety so seriously.

As for me, I’m certainly not a bad-looking guy. Average height, decent weight, and thanks to my regular workout routine, my arms, legs and core had started to regain some of the muscle tone I’d lost since college after years of sitting on my ass in an office.

I guess I hadn’t lost it. Just misplaced it for a while.

Anyhow, I often chat up my female classmates, and one — a hot chick named Janie — mentioned she was having problems with her home WiFi. I offered to stop by after class to help out. Little did I know, she had her own personal Pilates studio with all the bells and whistles — and a fantastically dirty mind.

By the time I arrived at her place, she’d stripped off her tank. She answered the door in a hot pink sports bra and skintight black leggings — all from a high-end designer.

You may be thinking: What type of guy recognizes workout labels? Let me tell you, after taking classes a few times a week — and staring at many logos on women’s rears — I learned fast. 

I’m not interested in fancy gear. I just picked up a few off-brand shirts that promised to wick away sweat. All that means is I stay cooler and don’t stink as bad afterward. Double pluses in my world.

But back to Janie. When she answered her door, I tried to play it cool and said, “So you’re having issues connecting?”

She eyed me up and down before running a manicured fingernail along my chest.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get me all hooked up. Did you bring the right tools?”

That made it pretty clear her computer complaints were nothing but a ruse. But if by tools, she meant a hard cock and condoms — hell, yes. I had everything I needed for the job!

Casting all niceties aside, Janie gripped my shirt, yanked me into her place and slammed the door shut with a sidekick. That made me wonder if she was also taking kickboxing classes.

I’d be lying if I said the next few hours passed in a blur. I remember every move and gyration. I slipped my arm around her waist and maneuvered her toward the nearest wall. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes halfway.

There was no need to chitchat — it was on.

Her sexy pout beckoned me, and I was more than happy to answer its call.

I pressed my mouth against hers, and

she parted her lips, allowing our

tongues to tangle.

Eyeing her luscious body in motion over the previous weeks had driven me crazy. I cupped her ass and yanked her tight against me. Those pants felt as smooth and silky as I imagined, and I caressed every inch of her. I didn’t feel any underwear beneath her snug leggings. I wondered if she’d stripped them off for my benefit or if she always went commando. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

Janie arched her back, pressing her shoulders against the wall as I clutched her ass tightly, then my little acrobat wrapped her strong legs around me and ground herself against my cock.

I broke our kiss and glanced down at her gorgeous breasts. From my vantage point, her tits were nearly popping free from the confines of her sports bra. I’d never be able to look at her in a tank top in class again without remembering how she appeared at that moment.

“Do all sports bras have a zipper straight down the front?” I asked, eying hers.

“No, but I wear them when I want to provide easy access,” she said with a wink.

I took the hint.

I kept hold of Janie until her feet were back on the floor, then she looked up at me with hungry eyes. I tugged down the zipper on her bra and let her beauties bounce free.

Her tiny nipples were a pale pink.

I ducked to take one between my lips and suckle. Her lack of tan lines told me she was someone who liked to sunbathe topless. 

As I sucked her tit, Janie wriggled rhythmically. It was like her nipple was a direct line to her pussy.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” she said breathlessly.

Whatever she wanted was good with me.

Janie slipped around me, grabbing a handful of cock through my shorts on her way by.

“Someone’s ready for action,” she teased.

“Keep that up, and we might not make it wherever we’re going.”

She laughed, slipping her bra off all the way and twirling it around her index finger before letting it take flight.

“Come with me,” she said.

That was exactly my plan, so I admired her fine ass as I followed her. But she didn’t lead me to her bedroom.

“I’ve got my own home studio,” she explained, opening a door and inviting me into another room.

And what a studio it was! There were rubber floor mats, a ballet bar with resistance straps, rubber balls in a variety of sizes and an exercise bench that appeared to be more wide and plush than the ones at the gym.

“Impressive. You’ve got a beautiful home. You live here alone?”

I probably should have asked that earlier, but I’d just followed her flirty lead. At the same time, though, I didn’t want an enraged partner showing up and chucking a free weight in the direction of my head!

“No, but I’m free to engage in my own ‘activities’ on certain days — and today is one of them.”

Ah, so that’s how she was playing it. Then I’d just assume the coast was clear.

She closed the distance between us and knelt before me on a mat.

“Let me help you get undressed.”

That was my kind of comfortable.

Her face lined up directly with my crotch. She removed my shorts and underwear in one smooth motion. Mr. Happy was more than happy to see her, bobbing eagerly before her face. She smiled, and I swear she licked her lips — as if getting into my shorts was the best thing ever.

Janie opened her mouth and took my dick inside, causing me to lose all lucid thought — except for: “fuck yeah” and “suck it harder.”

But neither of those things seemed appropriate to actually say aloud to someone I barely knew. So I did a lot of grunting and groaning instead.

My hips tilted forward, and I tangled my fingers in her blonde hair as she blew me.

The woman knew how to give head. She might live in a fancy house with expensive furnishings, but she also liked to suck cock.

With one hand she cupped my balls, and then she swirled her tongue around the tip of my dick before pulling away. Making full eye contact, she licked all the way down my shaft.

I’ve always though there’s nothing sexier than watching a confident woman swallow a hard cock.

But while I was loving her oral attention, I was ready to move on to the main event, so I gently nudged her back.

That’s when the little flirt said, “You know, I’ve been wanting to try something new, and I think you’re just the man for the job.”

She sure knew how to stroke a guy’s ego! And at that point, I was happy to play along with any scenario she chose.

Janie hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and slid them down, making sure I got a good view of her backside as she bent way over to remove them.

Completely naked, she straddled the bench, which had the necessary accessories — meaning looped straps for hands and feet. In class, those bench exercises always appeared to be some sort of pseudo-bondage — especially when our feet were in the grips and got yanked wide apart and hiked high in the air.

I never would have guessed Janie was such a spitfire. She clearly liked her sex naughty.

“Do you mind helping me?” she asked, reaching behind herself to grab a strap.

No need to ask me twice. The movement can be easily done solo, but assisting her was foreplay, which ratcheted up my excitement.

I fit one loop over the arch of her foot, caressing her smooth skin. Tan lines accented the tops of her feet, hinting she lived in sandals, and her toes were painted a brilliant blue and yellow that reminded me of summers spent at the beach. Leaning in close, I caught the faint scent of coconut. She was perfect.

Once both feet were hooked securely, she stretched out her legs in a “V,” leaving nothing to the imagination. She was like an offering made just to me.

“I’ve always wondered if this would work for sex,” she said.

I’d had that very same thought many, many times myself!

“Think you can maneuver onto the bench with me?” she asked.

I’d sure do my damnedest to try!

But first, I wanted to take in all of her glory. Her breasts were the ideal size, teacup-sized mounds, and her stomach — that ever-important core we continuously worked on in class — showed the right amount of muscle.

Janie was just my kind of woman, toned but not so thin that she didn’t have curves in all the right places.

“Like what you see?” she asked, knocking me out of my reverie. “Don’t leave me waiting too long, tough guy.”

“You’re gorgeous,” I said, my voice low and throaty.

As if to accent that thought, I felt my boner jerk to full hardness. I gave myself a squeeze before joining her.

“Now we’re talking,” she purred with a lascivious look in her eye.

With one arm, I yanked up the back of my shirt and tossed it aside, and then I snagged a condom from my shorts. Mounting her proved to be more challenging than I anticipated. I semi-crawled onto the bench, making sure not to bang her legs. Once I got into position, though, the view was spectacular.

“You know, you can do just about anything to me right now, and it would be hard for me to stop you,” she whispered.

Maybe take-charge Janie didn’t like to be in control, after all. That thought would be fuel for my fantasies for a long time.

While her legs were suspended, she still had full use of her hands. Though I knew how physically strong she was, she appeared beautifully helpless.

I ran my fingertips lightly along her inner thighs. From the way goose bumps rose on her flesh, I gathered my delicate touch set her nerve endings ablaze. I scooched forward on my knees and flicked her nipples with my fingers. I leaned over to take one between my lips before moving to the other side to give the other breast the same attention.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it,” she said with a little sigh.

My cock pressed against her belly, and I could feel the heat of her pussy. If she kept squirming against me, our encounter ran the risk of ending before it really began!

I reached between our bodies and fingered her clit. As I rubbed her nub, her moans increased. Testing the waters, I dipped my middle finger into her slit. She was soaked, and my digit sank in deep. I pumped it in and out, and she squirmed with delight.

“I was ready before you even got here,” Janie told me. “I’ve been watching you in class for months.”

Whoa. Her comment stunned me. I thought of the pleasurable plateau I often hit while working out. I’d push myself harder and faster as I worked up a sweat, and the endorphin release was almost as good as an orgasm.

I thought of Janie observing me as I worked through all of those feelings and wondered if she felt the same way during class. Heck, did all the women feel that way?  I was the only guy there, and my imagination ran wild.

“You’re proving to be woman of many surprises,” I told her.

As I focused on keeping my balance, I held the corner of the condom packet between my teeth and ripped it open. I never got how some guys complained about having to use a rubber. As soon as my cock knows one is coming out, it’s like, “Yahoo! Here we go!”

For our next encounter, maybe I’d spend more time enjoying her body. But we were both in a rush to get to the good stuff.

Back in position, I angled my cock and pushed into her pussy, feeling her warm heat envelop me. She lifted her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. In that position, I hit her deep.

I gritted my teeth and sucked in air. She urged me to fuck her harder and faster, and I was more than eager to oblige. 

Months of pelvic exercises did us both a service, and soon we grunted and moaned in unison as our climaxes neared. Pressure built in my balls, a tingling that signaled it was almost time to let loose. I slowed the pace a little, letting my pelvis rub against her clit more deliberately. From her body’s responses, she was a woman who enjoyed fucking.

As Janie tossed her head from side to side, I kissed a trail up her neck, lightly sucking right below her ear. I pumped my hips ferociously, savoring each stroke as I slid in and out of her clutching pussy.

“Don’t hold back. Give it to me,” she demanded.

If the lady wanted a pounding, I’d give it to her. I braced myself, resting my hands on the outside edges of the bench and rallied. The muscles along my back and thighs tensed. I thought I’d gotten a workout earlier at the studio, but that was clearly only a warm-up for our main event!

Janie bounced beneath me, hugging me with her legs while her feet were still nestled in the grips of the ropes. Her movement intensified the friction on my dick and soon pushed both of us to our limits.

I knew Janie had hit her peak the moment she screamed, “Yes, yes. Fuck me!” That’s when I gave myself permission to let go. My cock jerked inside her, pumping out jet after jet of cream. Tingles traveled from the base of my spine into my hairline. She kept writhing beneath me, like my orgasm spurred her on to greater pleasure.

We lay there for a few minutes, breathing heavily. The exertion had caused the prettiest flush of pink to spread from her chest to her face. I knew the next time we were in class, I’d check to see if she blushed so prettily during her workouts.

“You are one amazing woman,” I said as I caressed her curves, gliding my hand down her ribcage and over her hip before stroking her ass.

I pulled away and helped Janie extricate herself from the straps. She stood on slightly shaking legs, but she wore a satisfied smile.

“It’s going to be hard to do those exercises in class without thinking of you fucking me,” she said with a laugh.

I knew exactly what she meant!

Janie never did ask me to check her WiFi, but it turns out we had no problems connecting — with each other!