The CHEST Press: Part Two

Transcript

The chest press, part two. Blonde shoulder length hair framed her angular Nordic features with piercing blue eyes that always seemed to catch the light from anywhere in a room. Cindy was your typical hard body fitness queen.

Well, from the shoulders across and the belly button down. Greg imagined she must have come from a Valkyrie stock of Viking women who carried all the extra padding needed to survive the brutal winters of Iceland in their boobs. Or a Danish shield maiden whose internal organs were covered and kept warm underneath the massive chest meat covering their rib cages.

Cindy was six feet tall, toned and genetically gifted, carrying a heavy set of bulbous but firm heavy breasts. She wore a red tracksuit with white stripes down the sides. The standard uniform of all the staff at the gym, with a baggy matching jacket that did nothing to hide the enormity of her breast circumference.

Like most self-conscious, large chested women, Cindy made the mistake of thinking a slightly baggier piece of clothing could hide her assets from a breast fiend like Greg, while only serving to make it all the more obvious to a trained eye. Especially since the fabric on Cindy's sweater protruded forward, making an almost perfect triangular side boob silhouette from the nipple tip of her breasts down to her waist. The bottom half of her track jacket was open space that never touched her six-pack abs underneath.

Greg thought to himself there must have been easily ten inches between the underside of her breasts and her ribs. His cock began to twitch at the mere thought of it. Hey Greg, really sorry to do this to you but there's a clogged toilet overflowing in the ladies' change room and we need you to mop the area around the toilet so the plumber can get at it, exclaimed Cindy.

I know you're about to take your break, but we really need to do it now cos the plumber is on the way. Eish! Cindy's words trailed off as her eyes glanced downwards at the round dark stain at the front of Greg's pants.

Greg looked down and quickly tried to play it off. I was cleaning the gym mirrors and accidentally had the nozzle turned the wrong way. Stupid rookie mistake, Greg said laughing.

Luckily, this seemed to take down the tenseness in the room and Cindy chuckled. Cindy pointed at the stain and replied. Well, be more careful where you point that thing, buddy.

Someone will think you had a different kind of accident. Greg laughed it off and grabbed a bucket and mop. No problem, sin led the way.

Cindy did just that. With thick, muscled thighs below a shapely bottom chiselled to yoga booty perfection by many hours of heavy squats and hot yoga. If the saying went, you could bounce a quarter off that arse, Greg figured you could probably bounce that quarter up and down on Cindy's while she was standing.

Cindy peered into the change room to ensure it was vacant, yelling hello into the room. She stepped a few feet inside to do a quick visual scan, then waved Greg in. The small puddle of water around the toilet stall was, thankfully, free of any gross surprises.

Greg began the menial task of mopping. Maybe you should wait outside to wave off members till I'm finished, suggested Greg. Cindy nodded in agreement, spun on her heels and headed for the door.

As Greg got down to the business of mopping, he was startled by a loud bang coming from the showers. Hello? Greg whispered to nobody in particular.

No reply. Greg cautiously tiptoed over to the shower area, peering into each stall as he passed. Upon reaching the last stall, his jaw dropped.

Inside the stall, red-faced and wearing only a tiny white towel barely covering her wet, glistening tits, was Anna. An open bottle of shampoo, likely the culprit of the noise, lay spilling out its contents at her feet. Oh God, this is embarrassing, lamented Anna.

Greg, however, was mentally incapable of mustering any words at this point. His eyes were locked on the protuberance of breast flesh pushing against Anna's towel, exposing the top half of a pair of puffy, olive-hued areola. Even under her towel, he could make out the ends of both engorged nipples pointing in opposite directions, only a hair above where her belly button would be.

He began to stiffen with the realisation she was likely breastfeeding and could lactate when suckled on. There was easily, from where her exposed breasts met her towel, six full inches of cleavage. Greg's mammary mad mind had already calculated.

Based on where her erect nipples sat under her towel, there was an easy six or seven more inches to go. As Greg fantasised about his cock disappearing between the folds of Anna's twin titans, Anna hurriedly bent down to pick up her shampoo bottle. Too hurriedly.

She slipped mid-bend on the puddle of shampoo and ended up crashing face-first into Greg's rigid member. Down they both went. Greg guiding, and now towelless, Anna on top of him to cushion her fall.