Gym Bodz

I think this may be a morph, but...

... is there any better motivation for a guy to get up off his fat arse and get to the gym than this? Unfortunately, the gym at my local leisure centre isn't full of beautiful muscular babes. I should know, I go there enough! But I would certainly go there more if it was. So, to do my bit to improve the health of the male population, well, the male population who read my babble anyway, another selection of divine muscle beauty in the gym. Possibly your local gym...


As soon as you walk in, your female muscle radar on max, you see her. The instantaneous adrenaline rush comes and suddenly your heart is pounding. Your senses heighten, but all you can see, and the only thing on your mind, is her. It's a familiar feeling in the proximity of a muscular woman. The madness.


Gradually, you get yourself under some sort of control and get on with your workout. But you are keeping an eye on her, you can't help it. When she's doing pushdowns you walk past her, your eyes fixed on her triceps, bringing back the adrenaline rush again, and this time it's so full-on you're shaking a little when you get to your next machine.


She's still doing pulldowns as you walk back. You feel a little calmer after your set, a little stronger, a little more pumped, a little more confident. You'll go back the same way you came, and get a gander from the front this time. And you're not disappointed, but you're transfixed, you're staring. Did she notice? Shit. Was that uncool?


You keep your eyes to yourself for a while. But you can't help but peek when she picks up some dumbells in your vicinity. Your heart almost comes out of your mouth as you look up to see she's looking at you. Then she swings round to the mirror and starts to curl those bad boys, and you're sure she wasn't grunting or breathing so heavily before. Is this for your benefit?


Finished with the dumbells, she stretches and admires herself. Dry-mouthed, you somehow tear your eyes away. Your next exercise means you have your back to her, but you're trying to be cool and everything so you don't change your routine. And your reward for being so good is that she comes and uses the bench diagonally opposite you. You thank the Lord of Female Muscle Karma and check her out again. Her eyes come up and meet yours. For some reason you can't look away. She grimaces with the effort of the final few reps. You're still watching her. She'll probably come over and say something if you don't stop staring. And you've probably got a really dumb look on your face. Stop it! What's wrong with you?


She does come over when she's finished her set. Just to introduce herself though, much to your relief. She's a Personal Trainer, so it's not exactly a come-on, she wants to give you her card, but it'll do for now. And you surprise yourself by how charming you are (or think you are), but it's charming enough to get her to give you a free sample. Just one or two exercises you say. Give me a few pointers and I might just be persuaded to give you a call. And to yourself you wonder, When did my cajones get so big?


Now you're in heaven. She demonstrates, you follow. Two exercises turn to three. She seems to be having fun. Is it part of the sales pitch? If it is, it's working. But maybe she does like you. There's only one way to find out.


That would be cool, she says. I'd love to get a coffee with you when we finish up.
A gorgeous, muscular woman has just said yes to having coffee with you.

And all because you got off your fat arse and went to the gym.

But as you're leaving, the old radar goes off again. And this time the madness descends like an avalanche. You can't focus on anything, your eyes just dart from one pumped, glistening muscle to another. But you have never felt so alive.


Are we going to get that coffee or are you going to stare at that chick some more?

Err... I think I might do another half an hour. Let's do coffee another time.