XXXSport Fitness

Today's society is infatuated with being healthy...duh, right? Healthy eating habits, regular exercise routines, vitamins, light beer, the desire of avoiding cancer, or at least man-boobs are unavoidable "necessities" bombarded upon us innocent bystanders on a daily basis. My current situation being a prime example. I am feverishly typing away in a coffee shop delightfully located between a Whole Foods and a 24 Hour Fitness, I'm dead serious. To my right, patron after patron, foaming at the mouth, flood into Whole Foods to get their daily allotment of multi-grain and organic...whatever. To my left, a countless number of speed walking pulse checkers, are desperately trying to claim their favorite elliptical machine before the nightly rush. That being said, I have been unable to escape the craze. Matter-of-fact, I remember the exact moment I fell into their trap. I was taking a break from flipping channels between America's Lowest Self Esteem Top Model and Maxim's 100 Sexiest Boob-Jobs. After walking 20 feet to the refrigerator, sadly breathing heavier than anyone should after such a distance and discovering I had put an empty Ben and Jerry's ice cream carton back in the freezer, I knew some changes must be made. The next day I joined a gym.

I had chosen XSport Fitness, solely based on its proximity to my apartment. Much to my own shock, my XSport Fitness experience had been going really well. I started enjoying running on the treadmill and surprising myself with the increased weight and reps I was able to pound out. Mostly, I enjoyed the "tightening" my body was experiencing...a difference undetectable by family, friends, and pretty much everyone besides a scale calibrated to the hundredth of a pound.

"So, case closed? Sweet story, you used to mock people for wanting to be healthy and now you drank the Cool-Aid."

No, not at all. All that mumbo jumbo was just a lead in, the real blood and guts is coming up. So zip it and keep reading...dick.

Anyway, a few months ago I began regularly going to the gym. The day in question had been progressing along the same as any other day at the gym. I had ran a few miles, done a few chest exercises, and had just sat down at a new machine to work my back muscles. I was minding my own business when I looked up and noticed a male trainer setting up an exercise for a female trainee. So far a fairly normal happening at the gym. Trainers were leading clients all over the place, helping set up workouts, spotting lifters, etc. However, this particular duo caught my eye. I believe it was because they were both fairly attractive individuals who seemed to be flirting pretty heavily. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was obvious every time the meat head trainer managed to let out a monosyllabic grunt the girl would laugh, smile, and stick her chest out a few extra inches. Still, no big deal, but they were entertaining, so I kept watching.

I watched as the trainer set up the young coed's next exercise. He attached an elastic rope thingy to an overhead bar, creating a large tear-drop shaped loop hanging from the bar. Meanwhile, I had started my second set of lat pull-downs, not sure if that is really what I was doing but it's the only back exercise I know the proper name for. All the while, I was wondering what the loop was to be used for. I believe I was on rep 4 of 10 when I found out. The female was doing pull ups, putting her knees through the loop so as to relieve some of the weight for the pull up. Now, try to picture this. Take a moment to clear your mind. Ready? The female trainee had her back to me, and the male trainer was facing my direction. She jumped up and grabbed the overhead bar. The trainer wrapped the loop around her knees simultaneously dropping to his. From a kneeling position he starred up at her, he grabbed her waist, and she started doing pull ups. Time immediately switched to slow motion. From my angle I watched in horror as this gal repeatedly dipped her holy-of-hollies into this guy's face. He must have been keeping count of the reps, but since I couldn't hear them from my distance it just looked like he was starring up at her with his mouth wide open. Needless to say I had stopped lifting, was merely standing still while grasping the bar of my own machine above my head, mouth wide open, and unable to blink. As she neared the end of her set she started to struggle and her body began shaking. I quickly looked around to see if anyone else was noticing this intimate bedroom scene unfolding in the middle of the gym. nope, no one. Everyone else was far too enamored in their own physique to take heed. I returned my attention to the couple, just in time to watch as she struggled to finish her last rep. She was now violently shaking, inching closer to the bar above her head. Finally, at the exact moment she finished her last pull up she threw her head back, letting a climactic squeal ring forth. Instinctively I released the weights from my own machine to cover my open mouth, resulting in a loud crash as they slammed back in place. Of course, this drew the angry gaze of roughly ten people, not the oral pleasure seminar taking place center stage.

Embarrassed, both from making a ruckus and from witnessing the most lewd public behavior I have ever seen (not true, Amsterdam was quite racy...but it's expected there), I quickly scurried away. I glanced back to see the trainer catch the exhausted girl in his arm, and wiping the shimmer from his mouth with the sleeve of his other arm. That last sentence may have been fabricated, but he might as well have. Seeking refuge at the locker room sink, I splashed cold water on my face, and attempted to gather my thoughts. What had I just witnessed? Could it have been a rare fluke? Perhaps the perfect alignment of distance from the event, angle from where I was positioned, and full moon played this trick on me? I concluded that must have been the case. I grabbed a towel, dried my face, slowed my breathing, and decided to return to the gym to finish my workout...but I quickly realized there is no coming back from something like that.

I walked back into the gym and all I could see was pure sexual hedonism. Women laying on their backs thrusting their pelvises into the air and men bent over performing some exercise with spotter standing uncomfortably close behind them. I started making my way to the bikes, located on the opposite end of the facility, and as far away as I could get from the love making. I was about to reach the bikes and so happened to lift my gaze, which had been firmly fixed on the floor, only to look straight into the yoga studio. Again I was taken off guard when my eyes were met with row upon row of women performing the "face down ass up" position. I immediately tripped, landing on my stomach, and once again drawing the attention of gym-goers. I crawled to my feet, threw my hands up, and yelled out loud, "that's it!" Then I walked straight out the front door. Enough was enough for one day.

My walk home gave me time to cool down and gather my thoughts. It even made sense after a while. The gym is where people go to look good, and just down the road from wishing to look good is trying to wrangle someone into the sack. Of course these people are going to wear the smallest possible workout clothes, and perform exercises developed by the fitness gurus at Penthouse. Perhaps the hardest part to swallow, not literally you dirty dirty reader, was the fact I was there for pretty much the same reason. Not to pick up women, I have my lady, but to look good naked. I guess there is some sort of overall wellness associated with working out, but my motivator is the pursuit of abs, veins, and 3% body fat...I have so far to go it's laughable. But that's OK! I have cum to terms with the fact I pay a monthly fee to watch live soft-core porn, and maybe get fit in the process!