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“It’s that one over there,” she said, indicating the direction with her chin. “Second one from the left, over in the row by the door.”
To be honest, it wasn’t hard to identify her locker because it was the only one with a lock on it in the entire room. Petey’s doesn’t have many female members and I wasn’t surprised that the women’s locker room was deserted. Hell, females don’t come to Petey’s to work out. They come for Battle Bang, and those are invite-only events held late at night.
So right now during my mid-morning work-out, there were no other women in sight. Perfect. I ambled over to Lily’s locker without a care in the world.
“Combo?” I asked, voice relaxed.
By contrast, Lily was beet red, practically jumping from foot to foot while covering her curves, she was so embarrassed.
“14-32-17,” she said hastily. “You know how these things work, right? You turn to the left once, then right twice, and then back to the left once.”
“Sure,” I said noncommittally, my big fingers slowly spinning the dial. “No problem, I had one of these when I was in junior high.”
But lo and behold, the lock wouldn’t open. I tugged on it experimentally.
“Try again,” she begged with a gasp, eyes wide. “My spare sports bra is in there, plus my t-shirt.”
But that’s the thing. I didn’t want Lily to get a hold of her sports bra, much less some t-shirt. I wanted those curves open and creamy for me to touch, lick and kiss.
So I tried again, pretending to concentrate. My brows lowered as I stared at the lock while slowly turning the dial.
“Fourteen,” I muttered. “Then thirty-two …”
“No it’s thirty-three!” Lily gasped, futilely trying to catch her curves in her hands. “Sorry, I told you the wrong thing.”
I shot a lazy grin her way.
“No worries sweetheart. We’re alone in here. There’s no one in the shower, it’s just us. We’ll get you out of this jam in no time.”
She nodded, blushing again.
“I guess I’m just so nervous that I told you the wrong number,” she rushed, biting her lip. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem, honey. Let me try this again.”
I spun the dial once more, eyes fixed on the lock. But actually, I was watching the beautiful brunette from the corner of my eye and appreciating everything she had to offer. Because Lily was absolutely mouthwatering, standing there in nothing but a pair of tiny gym shorts, the outer curves of her breasts visible beneath tiny hands cupped over her nipples.
Shit, I was such a dog. But the best thing is to go with it, so I pretended to try the lock again. My hand tugged down on the metal, but nothing happened. The locker rattled with the force but the lock stayed firmly closed.
“Sorry,” I said casually, turning back to face Lily. “This thing has to be broken. Should I ask the janitor for a lock cutter? Or maybe you have a hairpin and I could try and jimmy this thing?”
Lily was dumbfounded.
“Maybe you could turn your back and I could try the lock?” she said hesitantly. “Just look the other way, and I’ll open it.”
“Good idea,” was my smooth reply. “But I have an even better one. Here sweetheart,” I said, whipping my t-shirt off and handing it to her. “Since you’re obviously a little shy, why don’t you put this on in the meantime? I’m a guy, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t have a shirt on.”
She looked at the t-shirt with wide eyes but then took a deep breath and grabbed it, struggling to pull it over her head. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. Lily was all jiggly curves and luscious flesh, and in the one second when her breasts were bare, I saw more than enough. Those pink nips were hard as fuck, like candy waiting to be tasted. The white sacks of cream were giant, hanging in huge, perfect ovoids, begging to hug my cock.
And after Lily’s head popped out of the neckline, she pulled it down awkwardly.
“Thank you Shaft,” she breathed. “I so appreciate it, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before,” she said, her voice trailing off.
It was no problem. After all, I get it. I’m a guy who works out twice a day. I take care of myself, eating well and lifting weights on a regular basis. So even though I’m in my forties, the years have been kind. My physique is ripped and equal to that of a bodybuilder, every muscle perfect and balanced.
“Shaft,” she stammered, eyes dropping to rove over my chest and then lower. “Shaft.”
A chuckle escaped my lips. I get it. My torso’s a work of art, each ab delineated, my pecs heavy and powerful. All of this tapers to a narrow waist before flaring into thick, tree-trunk thighs.
