Two, not mine.

One, 25, blonde. She’s tiny, probably was a ballerina.  She wears black yoga pants and a green leotard. She’s slender, has tiny breasts. An amazing ass for someone with such minimal curves. Her face is angular. I can’t take my eyes off of her when she’s in the gym. Every time she moves, which she does gracefully, I run the risk of injuring myself.

The other, maybe 33, is brunette. Not tiny – she’s probably 5’5″, and curvy. She too wears black yoga pants. (Women: you all should wear black yoga pants.) I’m pretty sure she has eyes, and a face, and breasts, but all I see when I look at her is her ass. She bends down to pick up weights, she walks across the gym floor. And when she moves, I’m at risk of injury.

Yesterday, both of them were in the gym.

Thankfully, I survived.


*(in the American sense, not the British one)


  1. Survival of the fittest, I suppose. I work from home so yoga pants are an unfortunate staple . . . I always get excited when I can get out of the house and wear REAL clothes. Little did I know I should have stayed in yoga pants.

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