Working Things Out Pt. 04

Another slow day left Em questioning her decision to work at the gym. The pay wasn't bad, and the hours left her with a decent amount of free time in the afternoon to do whatever she wanted - mostly hanging out with friends in her case. But neither changed the fact that it was a, to put it simply, somewhat mind-numbing job.

That, and she was admittedly disappointed that her interactions with Faith had been reduced to the few words shared between shift trade-offs. She would occasionally stay past her shift end to work out, but gone were her hours spent watching the gym owner - now her boss - from afar.

She had no intentions of quitting, of course, but a little excitement would be nice. For now, most of her time was spent on her phone reading books - which Faith fortunately didn't seem to mind - or cleaning, as she was doing now.

Overall, the locker room was a pain in the ass to clean, though the distraction of endless scrubbing did make the shift go faster. Not to say Em hated the process entirely. There were, in fact, some tasks she didn't mind. Faith had purchased a tool that made scraping the grout in the showers a somewhat easy and satisfying process. However, by the third shower, her wrist would begin to cramp, and she often had to leave half-finished when people came in to use them.

What truly was her favorite part - and one of the reasons she cleaned the locker room so frequently - were the toilets. Which, assuming you didn't share the same interests as Em, was perhaps a surprise. But for her, it was a proverbial goldmine - and a somewhat literal one in many cases. It was one of these toilets that she found herself in front of.

The first stall had been relatively clean, though it had some grime. The second, however, left Em with the very familiar feeling of leaking between her legs. The lid was unassuming, but the seat itself was splashed with unmistakable droplets of yellow. Most had dried, though there was one particularly large drop near the front that seemed to hold some of its moisture.

The bowl held similar evidence of a recent bathroom trip. Unsurprisingly, any pee had been washed away by the flush, but the front slope had managed to cling onto some significant smears of waste. Only upon lifting the seat did Em notice the small chunk of shit that was stuck to the rear lip of the bowl.

She had come into the stall to clean, obviously, but the site of the dirtied toilet did something to her. Her mouth became dry while her sex had very much the opposite effect. Once again, she felt moisture between her legs, an exploratory hand pressed against her crotch all but confirming it. There was the ethical question of it all, especially considering she was an employee, but the idea of it, the taboo nature, it was all too much.

Her bucket and sponge were left on the floor, and the stall door was quickly closed and locked tight. The last thing she needed was someone catching her. Em was glad, then, that the gaps under the stall and door - though present - were significantly smaller than most public washrooms. It would take someone crawling on their stomach to see into the stall.

Truthfully, however, her mind was running a mile a minute in that moment and was far too occupied to put much thought into the ramifications of what she was doing. Pulling down her yoga pants and seeing the milky shimmer of her arousal on the gusset of her panties only fueled the fire. Her shirt was tossed aside, and her left hand made its way to her breasts, groping violently at the soft flesh still stuffed into her sports bra.

It was a gross, depraved act. Em knew that it was gross. She knew that it would be considered disgusting by all save a few people, perhaps dangerous, even. It didn't matter. When her tongue touched the outer lip of the toilet, the pure, unadulterated pleasure she felt in her body overpowered any doubts she might've had, any sense of clarity.

Her mind was fogged as her tongue slid along the cold porcelain. All water stains, dried, crusted-on urine, and residual waste were swept up in its path and brought into Em's mouth. The taste was not strong, but the hint of saltiness and the slightly acrid flavor was enough to send a shiver through her body.

Again, she bent over and took another swipe, this time along the left side of the rim. It was equally dirty, so to say only somewhat, but she had intentionally started here, leaving the filthiest sections for later. It was part of her game, a self-inflicted teasing that would, with any luck, extend and ultimately enhance her orgasm. Once she allowed herself to cum, that is. For now, it was far too soon, so she finished the few sections on the rim that were missed and turned her attention to the toilet seat.

Common to most public toilets, the seat didn't connect at the end, instead having a horseshoe shape. Em wasted no time taking the right protrusion and inserting it fully into her mouth. She knew from experience that the underside was the dirtiest and therefore spent most of her energy cleaning that part with her tongue as she had done the rim.

This, of course, meant she was cleaning blind. Which, in a way, had its own charm to it. Her hesitation was all but gone, the blindness meaning she couldn't distinguish the dirty from the clean and therefore couldn't intentionally avoid particularly bad areas. It was with great speed, then, and vigor, that she sucked and slobbered on the plastic.

When she removed her mouth, Em couldn't help but admire the shine from her saliva and the foamy trail that ran down the seat. Again, her admiration was short-lived as her lips wrapped around the other side, giving it the same treatment as the first. It was this side that had the large droplet of still-wet urine, which she found without difficulty and sucked up greedily.

In the process, her left hand had slipped under her sports bra, tweaking her nipple and enjoying the occasional sharp pinch. Her right hand, meanwhile, was between her legs. The time for teasing had ended, meaning her rubbing had transitioned to a direct approach rather than over her pants.

She prayed, now, that no one had come - or would come - into the locker room in the interim. The sounds she was making with her mouth were bad enough, the languid, wet moans echoing off the tiled walls. The feverish rubbing of her sex, and the muffled, sloppy noises that brought was, for one, unmistakable, and two quite loud.

All the more reason to move things along, then.

The tip of the toilet seat left her mouth with a pop as she sucked selfishly on it during its removal. Returning it to its upright position, she decided it best to delay no further - someone could walk in at any time, after all - and went for the bowl itself.

Her hair, as it usually was while at work, was in a ponytail. Fortunate seeing how it was guaranteed to be soaked in toilet water otherwise. However much Em thought the idea sounded deliciously kinky, she knew that working with wet hair for the rest of her shift wouldn't be ideal. Outside of the practicality, there would also be the difficulty of explaining why her hair was dripping. She, therefore, did her best to keep safely tied back as she lowered her face towards the water's surface.

The water itself, of course, was clean. She had yet to be so lucky as to discover an unflushed toilet in her time working at the gym. There were, however, the smears she had noticed upon entering the stall. Thick brown skid marks coated the inner front of the bowl, a chunk of waste having slid down the porcelain before being washed away with a flush. The evidence it left behind was more than enough for Em.

Unfortunately, the angle wasn't perfect, which meant a careful twisting and somewhat uncomfortable pose the young woman forced herself into to get a closer look. Her work did pay off, however, Em able to get her face only inches away from the fecal remains. Up close, she could appreciate its texture. There were a few gritty-looking bits, some remnants of food, maybe, but the majority was a soft, almost stringy texture. Based on the dark, brown color and slightly dried surface, she guessed it had been there for a decent amount of time already.

The smell confirmed it, a weak aroma, almost undetectable if not inches from the source as Em was. Unsurprisingly, the result was a lot of long, loud sniffs. The blonde did her best to inhale the scent completely, reveling in the fact that she was smelling another woman's shit. A stranger's shit, she had to remind herself.

Public play was always a gamble. Em's love of smells had its pros and cons. Overall; it was a relatively harmless and - assuming she kept the more extreme side to herself - an easily accepted fetish to have. Not everyone was interested, of course, and many people found it difficult to understand why or how someone would be turned on by odor, but there were far worse and far more extreme fetishes out there.

Although, like any fetish, the struggle came down to finding someone interested in the same thing. For Em, she had yet to find such a person. Past partners had humored some parts of it - maybe a sniff of their armpit or feet after work - but none had been into it themselves and, none had truly let her indulge. It was part of the reason why she enjoyed the gym so much, why she found herself indulging when she likely shouldn't.

Public bathrooms posed far too many risks to make them anywhere near a viable option. The stranger element added a sense of taboo that she enjoyed desperately, but age was an issue, and she couldn't be sure what the person looked like - though physical attractiveness wasn't high on her list of priorities.

At Haoma Health and Fitness, this was less of an issue. To get a membership, you had to be over the age of twenty which solved the age problem and, given it was a gym, most of the members were in decent shape. Not all, of course, but most. Outside of Faith, Em had a few regulars whom she had more than a little crush on.

Occasionally she would picture these women, often she would picture Faith. Whether it was at home or work, she found herself daydreaming, fantasizing about cleaning another woman with just her tongue, maybe after they had used the toilet. Still, the stranger element had something to it that she couldn't quite shake.

So, as she took another deep whiff of the dried waste, she wasn't picturing anyone in particular. Rather, she was picturing all the possibilities, running through her memory of all the women who came and went in the past couple of days. It truthfully could've been any of them, and not knowing made a tingle run up her spine. Though, maybe that was just a cramp brought on by her hunched position.

Do I taste it?

The thought suddenly formed in her head, a bold idea that sent her heart racing. It was a hurdle she had yet to cross; the concept was always a little too extreme for her. And yet, part of her was seriously considering it. The idea of tasting, of indulging in that forbidden pleasure, felt like a rush of adrenaline.

Em hesitated; her neck awkwardly bent in the toilet bowl. The muffled sounds of the gym through the bathroom door - weights clanking and the dull thrum of music - echoed off the walls, a reminder of where she was. The chances of being caught felt slim, but there was always the safety aspect, the risk of getting sick or something worse. And yet, despite all this, she found her tongue advancing.

It inched from her lips, a slow, careful approach towards the unknown. She could feel her heart in her chest, the rhythmic thumping ringing in her ears. Her hand quickened, her arousal practically pouring from her body, the front of her panties hopelessly soaked and her yoga pants likely in a similar state. Her mind raced with images of the women she admired, the way they moved, their confidence, and the scents that clung to them. Any one of them could've used this toilet, left this behind for her to find.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open jolted her back to reality. Panic surged through her, and she quickly froze. Unfortunately, it was too little too late, her climax arriving all the same despite the stop in action. Her hand snapped from her breast to her mouth, desperately clamping it closed in an attempt to hold back her escaping cry.

It was the worst kind of orgasm, too. The lack of direct stimulation meant no real pleasure for the blonde, her muscles contracting around a missing intruder, and her clit desperate to be touched. Em considered it, briefly - putting her hand back in her pants, reigniting the fire before it faded entirely. But the unmistakable sound of the woman entering the stall to her right made the idea far too risky to pursue.

The next five or so minutes were agony, Em was afraid to move but equally afraid the stranger would be confused as to why she wasn't moving. Her breaths were still deep and ragged, which also worried her. If this woman could hear her, she might think several things, but none of them flattering. What would she think? Did she know what Em had been doing before she walked in? The thought made her shiver, both with fear and an inexplicable thrill.

The flush of the toilet broke the tension, and Em took a deep breath, trying to regain control. She listened intently as the stranger moved about, the rustling of clothing followed by the slow creak of the stall opening. She watched, eyes affixed to the tiny gap between the door, as the unidentified woman walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

As the stranger began to wash her hands, Em felt the pull of her earlier desire tugging at her again, more insistent this time. Perhaps it was the thrill of nearly being caught, or the fact that she could now see the woman - albeit only slightly - or maybe it was the lingering taste of adrenaline from her earlier thoughts. Whatever it was, it urged her to continue, to risk everything for an ounce of true release.

With a sudden rush of boldness, Em took a deep breath and let her hand drift back toward her body. The fabric of her yoga pants felt cold, now, and damp, but it also had an alluring quality. As she pressed her palm against herself, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, a reminder of what she had almost indulged in moments before.

Just a little more.

The thought was a dangerous one, her lust feeding off the risk and growing as a result. Em's heart raced as she leaned back against the cool metal of the stall, her breath quickening with each passing second. She continued watching through the crack in the door, her hand slipping back beneath her waistband and back inside herself.

Em's fingers moved with purpose now, guided by instinct rather than thought. She relaxed her body, surrendering to the sensations, the pure pleasure she felt in the moment. A soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible - she hoped, anyway - as her fingers continued their assault. Her thumb, too, joined, gentle strokes against her clit causing her to squirm, desperate to let out her held moans, but far too afraid of the consequences.

Suddenly, the stranger turned away from the sink. Em's heart stopped at the sight; the woman's gaze fixed on the door. Did she hear me? Shit, can she see me? With a start, Em realized that she was sprawled out on the floor, legs outstretched in front of her. The gap below the door was small, but at that angle, it was more than possible her lower half was visible.

She bolted - perhaps too quickly - to the toilet, sitting on its spit-coated seat, her pants still up. With the weight of the moment pressing down on her, Em forced herself to breathe slowly, allowing the tension to lessen just a little. She was still hidden, for now, and the stranger hadn't moved from where she stood. Em's mind raced--a part of her wanted to stay, to witness what might unfold, while another part urged her to escape this situation entirely.

The former won out, largely in part due to her hand still down the front of her pants, still wet. Even her fingers, she realized, were still moving. Slower, now, but sliding in and out, nonetheless. Her other hand stayed pressed to her mouth. It felt impossible to believe that she was - or at least almost was - caught, and yet she continued. The risk of it all had become akin to a drug, Em desperate for climax but unwilling to let the fun end, almost wishing she would get caught.

From the toilet, Em could no longer see through the gap and therefore had no idea where the woman was. Her breath hitched as she strained to listen, the sound of the tap running having long since stopped. Tension hung in the air as silence filled the room. Then, the sound of paper towels being dispensed, and receding footsteps not long after.

Alone once again and feeling a sense of invigoration, only one thing was on her mind - she needed to cum. She needed it desperately and knew full well that another person could walk into the bathroom at any second. The game was fun, but she couldn't play it all day. There was work to do, after all, and it hardly seemed smart to push her luck twice.

Her fingers moved with urgency, the familiar pressure building inside her. Em was so close, so frustratingly close. The pounding of her heart had grown louder, a constant drum fighting with the sound of her sloshing pussy in her ears as she unabashedly fucked herself. If someone else could come in, it meant she was on a time limit, and she was not willing to delay the inevitable any longer.

So, with a final, desperate flick of her thumb, Em felt the wave crash over her, the final release of her orgasm after so much denial. The climax washed over her, a mix of relief and exhilaration as she bit down on her hand to keep from crying out. Still, she made more sound than she likely should have, and couldn't stop her body from flailing.

As she came down from her high, Em's lungs burned and her chest heaved, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Her pants had gotten wetter, as had her hand. Between her three fingers were cloudy strings, her arousal coating them thoroughly. Using her tongue, she licked them clean, savoring the salty taste of her body.

Perhaps in a different scenario, she would have enjoyed the moment more, maybe even going for a second round. But even Em's libido couldn't convince her to do that now. So, with some disappointment that it had to come to an end, she gathered herself and began the painstaking process of making herself not look like she had just cum her brains out in the bathroom stall. To play it safe, she flushed the toilet on her way out, making sure to grab the cleaning supplies that had been knocked over and nearly kicked into the adjacent stall.

The benefit of masturbating in a gym bathroom was having a decent excuse as to why you were sweaty and disheveled. However, that could only get you so far. She did her best with the limited resources to clean the worst of the grime from her face and used a paper towel to dry up afterward. Her pants were, unfortunately, pretty soaked, so she just had to hope that their dark color would hide most of the damage while she hid behind the desk as they dried.

Accepting that she wasn't going to look any better - outside of hopping in the shower and changing her clothes, that is - she steeled her resolve and gathered the remainder of her cleaning supplies. The third stall still needed to be cleaned, as did the counter, but that could come later. At the very least, it would give her something to do tomorrow.

Exiting the locker room, Em kept her eyes glued to the floor as she crossed the gym, hopeful that it meant no one would look too close at her. Worst case, she couldn't see if someone was looking at her, which both helped and made her more nervous. Fortunately, no one said anything, and she was able to return to the janitor slash security office without issue.

Putting the spray bottle, rag, and sponge back on their rickety shelf, she turned to leave when something caught her eye. On the lowest shelf, stuffed behind some of the equipment for the security cameras, was a white plastic bottle adorned with a pink label.

"What the hell..." Em whispered as she pulled it out. Sure enough, it was the same strawberry shortcake creatine powder that had been recalled. The same creatine powder that Em had signed for and Faith had said she would throw out. It was strange, then, that a bottle was seemingly hidden in the closet. Stranger still was that it had been opened.

At first, Em thought the sticker seal may have just been ripped during shipping or when it was put behind the equipment. But, upon opening the container, she found that roughly half of the powder was missing - either used or spilled. On her hands and knees, she explored further, ducking her head to see into the lowest shelf. There was no loose powder to be found, but she did discover the second container.

It didn't make sense. There was little reason for Faith to keep the samples, especially after they had confirmed it was the recalled product. The only possible explanation was that Faith saved them to get a refund, but that didn't make much sense either. After all, she claimed she didn't pay for them - so what money would there be to refund? It also didn't explain why half of the first container was empty, seemingly used, or why they were both hidden. Truthfully none of it was adding up.

There's no way Faith would've used it on purpose, and I don't know how it could've been used accidentally. She knew it was recalled, she knew it had a lax-

Em's train of consciousness came to a screeching halt.

"No, there's no way. Although, that would explain..." Trailing off, Em shoved the two containers back in their hiding spot as best she could before getting to work pulling up the camera software. "There's no way," she repeated, but now she wasn't so sure.

***

For the third time since starting her shift, Faith flipped through the camera feed from the morning shift. Unsurprisingly, they hadn't changed since the first. And yet, she couldn't get it out of her head. The way Em looked at her when she came in from her shift, the way she acted. There wasn't anything specific, but she had worked with the woman long enough now to recognize, at least subconsciously, that something was a little off.

She thought initially that something might've happened during Em's shift, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The blonde had spent a decent amount of time in the locker room, but she had gone in with cleaning supplies, so it was fair to assume she was busy cleaning - something which, in Faith's experience, took at least the amount of time Em was in there, if not more. If something had happened in there, the lack of cameras - for obvious reasons - meant she couldn't figure out what regardless.

Otherwise, everything seemed to go as normal. But why the change in attitude, then? Why did Em have that look in her eye when Faith had come in? That look like she knew something she shouldn't. There was, of course, only one thing that Faith had to hide. Since the night she had done a less than stellar job cleaning up and Em had almost caught her, Faith had been more careful than normal. It seemed unlikely, then, that Em had caught on.

"Have a good night."

The voice caught Faith off-guard. Quickly minimizing the camera feed, she looked up to find that the remaining patron had - at some point - finished her workout. Faith recognized her as a semi-regular, coming on and off, but always later at night. "Have a good night," she repeated, putting on her best customer service smile.

"Thanks. Sorry for staying up until closing; I guess time got away from me."

"Oh, no problem." Faith took a quick look at the clock. She hadn't realized it had gotten so late in her preoccupied state. If she hadn't said anything, the woman probably could've been at least an hour longer. "I'm here regardless, I'd prefer people were working out while I am."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Still, I won't take up any more of your time."

Not wanting to look too rude, Faith waited until she saw the woman pull out of the parking lot before getting up to turn the open sign and lock the door. She then returned to the front desk, taking a minute to finish her third sweep of the cameras. Again, nothing, though she did take note of Em going into the closet.

Did she find the creatine I hid?

A cold sweat formed on Faith's back as she unlocked the door and flicked on the light inside. The cleaning supplies Em had been using were put back properly and, when she got on her hands and knees, Faith discovered that her stash of recalled product was in its place, too, untouched. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she left the room.

I need to stop worrying about this so much. I need a distraction, she thought, pulling off her polo and leaving it on the desk next to her bag.

Her hands fell to her chest, massaging her breasts through the tight material of her sports bra. She briefly considered removing it, too but ultimately decided against it. For the past week or so, she had undoubtedly been focusing more on pleasure than working out, so Faith decided to take tonight seriously, and that meant keeping the much-needed support.

It also meant no laxatives, no creatine, no sex toys, just cardio and arms. At the very least, she would be getting a good sweat on before even thinking about getting off. Although, it wasn't entirely because of her recent lapse in exercise. There was also the development with Em that was still racking her brain.

Stop thinking about it.

Getting on the treadmill, Faith put in her earbuds and turned on her music, drowning out her thoughts as she started running. The rhythmic pounding of her feet against the treadmill allowed Faith to clear her mind. She focused on her breathing, letting the rush of endorphins wash over her, the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. With every step, the worries about Em's demeanor and the nagging feeling of something being off began to dissipate.

After twenty-odd minutes, she had almost all but forgotten about her employee. It was very likely she was overthinking the whole situation. Again, Em didn't say or do anything different. There was nothing Faith could point to that said something is wrong here. Just a gut feeling.

Satisfactorily warmed up, she switched off the treadmill, her legs feeling pleasantly fatigued from the run. She wiped her brow with a towel, taking a moment to appreciate the adrenaline coursing through her. The gym was empty and silent; the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. It was at times like these she was reminded of why she opened the gym. Having a space where other women could feel safe working out was part of it, but selfishly she also enjoyed just being able to work out in peace.

"Arms next, then," she said to herself, crossing the floor to the free-weight section.

She selected a pair of dumbbells, feeling the weight settle comfortably in her hands. Starting with bicep curls, she watched herself closely in the mirror. At first, it was just to focus on her form, to make sure that her arms didn't wander too far out of line. Before long, as always seemed to happen, she became more focused on appreciating herself, admiring her body as her muscles flexed and strained.

A little self-indulgent? Maybe, but she was in undeniably great shape, and something about the way her sweat glistened and streamed down her body always affected Faith. A fortunate result was that she paid less attention to the burn in her arms as she worked through reps. By twenty she started really feeling it, and by thirty she reached failure.

The dumbbells dropped to the matted floor with a loud thump, and she let herself rest momentarily on the nearby bench. She reached for a towel but decided to forego it in place of her hand. The moisture from her brow coated her palm as she wiped it across her forehead. Still watching herself in the mirror, she took a few fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean of sweat, the salty flavor covering her tongue.

Her legs splayed, she sat captivated, trailing one hand down her stomach until it reached her crotch. Over her yoga pants, Faith began massaging her sex, the moisture unmistakable, but impossible to differentiate between arousal and sweat. Not that it mattered to her. All Faith cared about was the animalistic pleasure of rubbing herself in such an open and exposed space, the pure indulgence of worshiping her own body.

It didn't take long for her to go further, her hand diving beneath her waistband. Her fingers danced across her slit causing pressure to build with each gentle stroke but never going inside. Her vagina was hot and wet, and most of all sweaty. The moisture clung to her labia and gathered where her thighs met her groin.

Faith gathered it all, rolling her hand around in dampness before removing it and bringing the soiled flesh to her face. With a deep inhale, she brought all the aroma of her sweaty pussy into her airways. It stunk, a strong miasma of arousal and body odor overwhelming her senses. And yet, she inhaled again and again, trying to coat her nostrils in the funk.

The way her body reacted to the smell was palpable, her muscles tensing and breathing choked. She could cum right there - all it would take was another few seconds of rubbing. But Faith had made the promise to herself that tonight would be a serious workout, and she therefore couldn't relapse so fast. Though, if she did just let herself cum now, it would likely mean a more focused session in the long run.

That's not the choice she made, however. She would cum tonight, and she would ensure that she was messy while doing it, but right now she had to lift some weights. So, with some second-guessing, she stood up from the bench - the imprint of her ass made from sweat on the leather bench not missed - and picked up the dumbbells again.

Now, as she lifted them, there was a sense of frustration, of anger, that was pushing her on. Her body ached desperately for release, and yet, Faith ignored it, trying her best to think of anything but her possible climax. This time she managed to reach forty-three reps before her arms were shaking, and the weights were dropped from her grasp.

Faith's body finally gave in to its exhaustion. She stood there, panting heavily, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her arms felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive. For a moment, she considered another rest but knew that - should she sit down again, it was unlikely she'd be able to get up again. It was unlikely she'd be unable to resist cumming.

"Another workout. Something new," she panted, leaving the dumbbells where they fell as she moved over to the barbells. She chose a forty-five-pound bar and fitted it with plates. It was a decent amount of total weight but below her personal best - her arms still ached, and it was too risky to try and push herself.

Legs planted and back bent at the waist; she began a set of bent-over rows. With each lift, she studied herself in the mirror and looked deep into her eyes. "Hgg," the groan escaped through her clenched teeth, her arms and shoulders shaking as they continued repeatedly pulling up the bar. Midway through rep eleven, they succumbed to the strain, and the dumbbell was dropped.

"You're so fucking weak," Faith spat, keeping her eyes locked on her reflection. "This is what happens when you don't work out. So god damn horny all the time that you can't even get to fifteen reps anymore." Angrily, she snapped her water bottle off the ground and started chugging it. Her stomach cramped as she did it, but Faith didn't stop until it was half empty. "Next set."

She managed three more sets, all similar to the first, before leaving the barbell and moving on to something else. Faith could feel her arousal still stirring between her legs, and that only annoyed her more. It was an almost superhuman feat the way she burned through each exercise, always going to failure.

Faith wasn't really angry. She was a little annoyed with herself for letting her fitness regimen slip in days of late, but hardly mad about it. Rather, it was somewhat of a mind game for herself. She had discovered in the past - usually when competing against other people - that getting angry pushed her further than normal, and made her test her limits. However, it did have some side effects.

On nights like this, when she gave in to her emotions, her workout would be intense but shorter. Even Faith couldn't keep up such intensity over an extended amount of time. So, when she could hardly even lift a dumbbell anymore, she knew it was time to call it. At least, the serious part of the workout. The gym owner still had at least another hour or two before she went home.

No longer concerned about support, she finally freed herself of the compressing sports bra and tossed the undergarment aside. Her breasts sprung free, drenched, and glistening. Faith cupped one in each hand, appreciating the dampness as she made her way towards the changing room. She had decided no sex toys for the night, but with her workout down and her holes aching almost as much as her muscles, she no longer had the fortitude to resist.

Opening her secret locker, Faith perused the selection before ultimately choosing one of her favorite dildos - a medium-sized translucent one with a slight curve that hit just the right spot. With it, she grabbed a pair of nipple clamps before locking everything back up and leaving.

Horny before, even just the suggestion of pleasure had her positively desperate. She returned to the bench from early, her ass-sweat having since dried. Setting her dildo down momentarily, Faith applied one of the clamps to her right nipple, a sharp wince escaping as she did. The pain was not significant, but hard to ignore. Harder still when she applied the second on the other side. Being a sadist herself, it was rare that Faith used these at all but tonight seemed fitting.

The removal of her pants came next, her panties coming off too, but those coming to her face rather than onto the ground. Faith oriented them so that the gusset - covered in her sweat and dried pussy juices - was directly over her nose and mouth. The deep inhale that followed filled her sinuses with her delicious musk.

Laying down, she let herself marinate in the rich stink for a few moments before moving on to the final stages of preparation. Faith lifted both legs, spreading them open and bending them at the knee until her pussy and ass were visible in the mirror in front of her. Then, careful not to tug too hard, she grabbed the long chain connecting her two clamps and tucked it behind the big toe on her right foot. Now, should she get tired and try to put her legs down, her nipples would receive a nasty surprise.

With that, the dildo returned to her hand. She wasted no time - the idea of needing lube laughable - and brought the silicon toy between her legs. Even blind, she found her slit easily and slid the toy inside. Despite it being far from the largest toy she owned; it still filled her. Faith could feel the rough bump of its veins as it slipped in and out, bringing with it gentle squirts of her pussy cream. All the while, she kept her face buried in her panties.

Her tongue danced across the soft but crusty fabric, licking up flakes of the salty excretions and rubbing them against the rough of her mouth. The flavor had a strong, almost earthy character with the odd acrid tinge from pee that may have dribbled out throughout the day. Having worn them for less than twenty-four hours, she was surprised at how pungent they had become. Though, she had just spent the last hour or so teasing herself during a workout.

Faith's enjoyment of the panties was limited, however, by the burning of her abs and thighs. The sharp tug on her nipples every time she tried to ease the pain only worsened the situation and resulted in a rapid escalation of the speed at which she was fucking herself. Knowing she could only last so much longer, Faith loosened the muscles in her sphincter, desperate to distract herself from the suffering her body was currently experiencing.

A slow burst of air escaped from her hole, its smell strong and foul - an indication of what trying to escape. Given her propensity to laxative use, it was rare that she ever found herself pushing like she had to tonight. It meant more muscles working and more effort on her part - something she was trying to avoid - just to get her waste to move the last couple of inches. More farts followed, equally dry and airy as the first, but each more potent than the last.

Finally, after what had to be minutes of torment, Faith's bowel movement crowned its head. It stretched her wide, wider even than the dildo she was currently pummeling her other hole with. The top was solid and firm but quickly gave way to a softer mass, though it was still firm enough to hold its shape as it coiled onto the bench in front of her.

The fresh, putrid aroma of her steaming shit combining with the dry musk of her pussy was enough to deliver Faith her first orgasm of the night. Her attempts to minimize the reaction failing almost immediately, her convulsing body setting off a chain reaction. First, her dildo was forced from her pussy, slipping from her hand and landing directly into the pile between her legs. What promptly followed was the decision to sit up and look for it which, in turn, resulted in the chain around her toe being pulled taut enough to rip the clamps clean from her nipples.

The gym echoed with Faith's scream as the pain spread through her chest. Her hands quickly went to her breasts, a desperate hope that her groping and massaging would lessen the pain. If it had happened before or even during her climax, it would have maybe been manageable. On the tail end of release, however, any excitement was gone and it just left her hurting. Although, it did solve the problem of getting them off.

It was unsurprising then, that - after a decent amount of time spent recovering - Faith decided it best to leave them off for the rest of the night. Her dildo was a different story. She was one orgasm down, but planned on at least two or three more before calling it a night, and the translucent silicon would be the thing to get her there.

Once removed from the still-steaming pile, Faith assessed the damage. Its shaft was decently smeared, brown streaks running down its majority, but the head certainly got the worst of it. On the tip was a medium-sized chunk, soft and squishy, so most likely from the end of her bowel movement. Moving the panties on her face aside, Faith studied its deep brown color and rough texture, careful to look out for any visible chunks.

Her nose was once again filled with its aroma, stronger now that it was right in front of her nostrils. She could practically taste the deep, bitter flavor on her tongue, her mouth salivating at the thought. Not yet, though; that would be saved for later. For now, Faith turned around on the bench and suctioned the dildo to its padded surface. Lining up the dirtied tip between her legs, she took a breath before slowly sliding the toy inside.

"Um, Faith?" The voice echoed in the silent gym.

Looking up, Faith followed the sound of the voice to the front desk. Her brain took a few seconds to process what she was seeing, her body frozen in shock, still skewered on the shit-covered dildo. "Em?" she managed, her mouth dry and her voice hoarse.