Spread Eagle — Stephanie M. Wytovich

Natalie sat down on the floor, and spread her legs. After forty minutes on the treadmill, she was dripping sweat, and the mat underneath her lapped it up like a dog on a warm, summer day.  She stretched out her muscles, her calves aching from the run, and brought them back into the lotus position, massaging them back to life. She tried to use the couple of moments she had left to get centered and in control, but every time she got ready to teach class, she could feel her clitoris opening like a flower. Gently spreading its petals and warming them in the heat. It’s sweet nectar wetting the area in between her thighs.

She knew it had to do with the adrenaline high that she reached when she pushed through the last fifteen minutes of her workout in a full out sprint. Her heart beat racing. Blood pumping. Running was her foreplay, and afterwards, the climax was all that she could think about. She closed her eyes, picturing the front row of her class. A girl named Tessa always sat in front of her, keeping eye contact despite the way she hid herself from the others. Natalie could see her soft brown hair falling in tresses down her back, while her tanned, tight body moved with the familiarity of a contortionist.

For months, Natalie envied the way Tessa’s body moved. Not because she couldn’t emulate it, but because she ached to be on the receiving end of her poses. Their bodies rubbing up against each other. Her light blues staring only at her. Natalie’s back arched in tension. Her legs pulling tighter together.

She could picture Tessa’s breasts, and ached to touch them. To caress her nipples until they stood erect. Her teeth biting down on them while she tongued them at the sides. She imagined that Tessa tasted like honey. Sweet yet sticky. A taste that made you come back for more after the first lick.

The studio didn’t open for another half hour, but Natalie keyed in anyways, and left the lights off. She walked over to the middle of the room and sat down in Tessa’s spot. Her hands sliding down into her underwear. She was wet. So wet that her fingers had no trouble finding their way inside her. Her thumb focused on caressing her clit and she moaned in a steady rhythm. Her right leg inching upwards as the speed increased. She pictured Tessa’s face in between her legs. Her mouth disappearing as she tongued her inside and out. Fast and then slow.

Natalie let out a concession of short, quick breaths, until her chest tightened, and her walls broke. A rush of desire trickled down her thighs. She laid on the mat, smoothing out her clit with her fingers as she licked her lips. She could see headlights out the far window in the back, and sure enough, Tessa arrived fifteen minutes early as usual. Natalie chuckled as she collected herself, because she knew that Tessa liked to warm up before class, too.

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Stephanie M. Wytovich is an Alumni to Seton Hill University where she was a double major in English Literature and Art History.  Amongst having numerous publications, the most recent being her poem “Body Suit,” she enjoys painting and playing the piano. She is currently attending graduate school to pursue her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction, and is a nominee for the Rhysling Award for her poem “The Cheater.” She plans to continue in academia to get her doctorate in Gothic Literature. You may find Stephanie here: http://joinmeinthemadhouse.blogspot.com/.