Sweat

After a hard workout, all I want is to peel off these soaked clothes and hit the shower. He sticks around—last one left as usual. He steps in close, asks if I need help getting naked, and offers his hands. I let him. His fingers work my tank top over my head, then tug my leggings down. The air hits my skin and I feel every trace of sweat cooling on me. He drops to his knees and peels my socks off, slow, like he’s unwrapping something he’s been waiting for. My bare toes meet cool tile. He doesn’t rush. He lifts one foot, kisses the arch, then the other, breathing me in. I watch his tongue trace the line from heel to ball, then slide between my toes, sucking each one clean. I’m still standing when he leans in and takes my cock into his mouth. Hot. Wet. He swallows me to the root on the first pass, nose pressed to my trimmed hair, throat working around me. Spit runs down his chin and drips onto my feet. He keeps one hand cupping my heel, thumb stroking the sole while he sucks, like he can’t decide which part of me he wants more. I grab his hair and fuck his face in short, steady thrusts. Every time I pull back, strings of saliva stretch from his lips to my shaft. He moans around me, the sound vibrating up through my balls. Sweat still beads at my lower back, sliding between my ass cheeks, but the only heat I feel now is his mouth and the grip of his fingers around my ankle. When I come, he takes it all, swallowing without pulling off, then licks the last drops from the head before pressing his tongue flat to my sole again, cleaning the sweat there too. The gym is quiet. Just the sound of his breathing and the wet slide of his tongue over my skin.