The CHEST Press: Part One

Transcript

The chest press part one. He sat open-mouthed and mesmerised at the bouncing pair of pendulous breasts in the tight, flesh-toned zip-up tank-top in front of him. The elliptical area of the gym was a favourite of his, because it more often than not afforded him a view of a spectacular pair of sweat-glistened breasts in full motion.

This pair in particular were no strangers to Greg, as she, she being Anna, was a regular, and he, he being Greg, was an employee of the gym. He even had a somewhat passing friendly relationship with Anna, whom he learned over the course of several weeks was married, had her first child about eight months prior, and was furiously trying to lose the baby weight acquired over the course of her pregnancy. From what Greg could see, he suspected most of that weight ended up on her chest, thighs and buttocks.

Mostly the chest though. Even now, the tank-top she wore as an attempt to keep her almost ridiculous-sized assets from hitting her in the face was barely doing the job, even with the added support of a sports bra underneath to boot. She looked to be in her very early thirties, with a tanned Mediterranean-type skin complexion and dough-like chestnut-coloured eyes.

He thought she looked considerably similar to one of his favourite big-bus glamour models, Elora Grey. As she swung her body to and fro on the elliptical machine, perspiration ran in multiple lines down her forehead, descending to her chin, and dripped into the expansive but mostly hidden chasm of her snugly-packed, swaying cleavage. Greg imagined that this dripping moisture had escaped out of his expanding nutsack, exploded out of his now fully-erect cock, and that his hot, steaming spunk was dripping from Anna's chin onto her heaving bottoms.

Greg could feel his prominent erection rubbing against the material of his pants, and looking down, noticed the tiny dot of pre-cum making a mark on the outside of it. Realising that this could become an embarrassing if not career-limiting situation if noticed by the managers, or any of the trainers, he decided it was time to disappear. Hating the thought of leaving Anna to the rest of her workout without any of his attention, but hating the thought of losing employment more, he decided to beeline for the cleaner's closet where the gym's cleaning supplies were stored.

Greg didn't love his job as the gym janitor, cleaning sweat from machines and mopping up change-room floors, but his hours were reasonable, and the perks for a big breast-obsessed fiend such as himself were outstanding. He didn't even mind when his manager gave him the extra responsibility, without any extra pay, of managing the locker keys for the gym. Unlike most gyms, the chest press had recently changed their policy of allowing members to use their own locks for their lockers.

There were issues with people forgetting combinations and such, which required staff to waste time cutting locks. So the management decided to do away with personal locks, upgrade to electronic locks, and started giving personal four-code combinations to all their members. Greg was responsible for keeping a pair of override keys, one for each change room, that would allow for easier access to deal with locker issues caused by malfunctions or forgetful members, which was all fine with Greg.

The minute he was advised of his new responsibility, all sorts of possibilities came to his breast-fetishist mind regarding chesty members and potential access to sports bras and sizes thereof. The switch over to the electronic locks had occurred only just a week ago, but he had already begun to observe the habits of the gym's bustier members. Greg noticed many members were coming into the gym in street clothes with no gym bags, and coming out in workout gear, then leaving the gym again in street clothes.

From this small observation, he deduced members were leaving their gym gear in their lockers. Adding to this fortunate turn of events, Greg was also responsible for doing a final cleaning and amp, lock-up of the gym every night. This meant that after all the other staff and final members had left for the night, he would have access to any locker he wanted.

There was just one problem. While he had the override key for the women's change room, he didn't actually have a list of which locker numbers correlated with any particular members. The manager, Rob, was the only person with that list in a file on his hard drive.

In a locked office, even Greg didn't have access to. He could painstakingly go from locker to locker trying to guess which locker belonged to who, but that was still a crapshoot. If he was going to be able to have any fun at all, he was going to have to figure out a way into that office, and into that file.

All of this intense scheming helped Greg to get the solid nine-inch tent in his track pants back under control. Just in time too, as the door to the cleaning closet swung open to reveal the head trainer, Cindy, standing in the doorway.