Amber nodded. "Sandwiches and coffee it'll be." She didn't care how or where they ate, as long as they did. After this workout, she'd need both something nutritious and a caffeine rush. If it weren't for coffee, she'd have flunked out of med school or failed as a doctor; needed it just as much as water or blood.
Walking through the corridor was a brief and much-needed cool down. Her heart rate lowered and if her perspiration didn't dry off, at least she wasn't producing more of it. Even the tremors died away. Amber still felt ready for more, to burst out into a run until her legs couldn't stand it, to push her muscles to their limit. Beneath it all resentment simmered. She'd lost. That was the cold reality. Amber was a loser. Every time that word floated in her mind, her fist itched to punch a wall. Didn't matter that Eric had the advantage, being a basketball-loving freak; her tactics should've been enough to overcome that. She'd failed. Unacceptable.
In the changing room, Amber hastily removed her sneakers and socks and peeled off her sweat-soaked pants; her skin breathed more easily. Tore off her sports bra, too. Freeing herself of the tight clothing only made her want to stretch; she did so, forming an oval with her arms as they reached towards the ceiling. Then back down to touch the ground, elongating her spine, her trapezius. She moaned; that hit the spot.
Eric had shed his clothing far faster than her and was already turning the shower on. Her ponytail brushed against her face as she came back up to listen to him and properly see his invitation of a smile. God, of course he'd want some, he'd just won. (Over her.) Frankly, Amber was half-surprised he hadn't sported an erection during the game itself, he'd been treating it so much as foreplay.
Amber wasn't as in the mood as she'd have been as, say, this morning, when she'd woken up expecting a snuggle, or when they'd wrestled in bed. But she had been straining for more exertion. Might be interesting, fucking here, a semi-public shower. All the other gym patrons just outside, she'd hear them. Nobody would know, sadly, what was going on in here-- unless they "accidentally" got loud.
That was all reason enough to slip into her flip-flops and stalk towards the shower. But the strongest one of all was the possibility of releasing her anger. Maybe Eric could shoot hoops faster and better, but she always took the lead in their sexy life. It'd be a small compensation in the face of greater bitterness.
"That is the saddest horndog move I have ever seen," Amber declared, yanking the shower door open and shutting it once she'd stepped inside. There was barely enough room for them, so already they were as close as two bodies could get without touching. "Seriously. You're a guy. You just closed the door on me! Can't you do better than that? Or do I have to ‘school’ you?" Amber took hold of his two hands and pulled them back, making them mold her ass. In the process, their hips came up together. His back blocked all the water, but that was hardly important. "This is how you do horndog. See the difference?"
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Walking through the corridor was a brief and much-needed cool down. Her heart rate lowered and if her perspiration didn't dry off, at least she wasn't producing more of it. Even the tremors died away. Amber still felt ready for more, to burst out into a run until her legs couldn't stand it, to push her muscles to their limit. Beneath it all resentment simmered. She'd lost. That was the cold reality. Amber was a loser. Every time that word floated in her mind, her fist itched to punch a wall. Didn't matter that Eric had the advantage, being a basketball-loving freak; her tactics should've been enough to overcome that. She'd failed. Unacceptable.
In the changing room, Amber hastily removed her sneakers and socks and peeled off her sweat-soaked pants; her skin breathed more easily. Tore off her sports bra, too. Freeing herself of the tight clothing only made her want to stretch; she did so, forming an oval with her arms as they reached towards the ceiling. Then back down to touch the ground, elongating her spine, her trapezius. She moaned; that hit the spot.
Eric had shed his clothing far faster than her and was already turning the shower on. Her ponytail brushed against her face as she came back up to listen to him and properly see his invitation of a smile. God, of course he'd want some, he'd just won. (Over her.) Frankly, Amber was half-surprised he hadn't sported an erection during the game itself, he'd been treating it so much as foreplay.
Amber wasn't as in the mood as she'd have been as, say, this morning, when she'd woken up expecting a snuggle, or when they'd wrestled in bed. But she had been straining for more exertion. Might be interesting, fucking here, a semi-public shower. All the other gym patrons just outside, she'd hear them. Nobody would know, sadly, what was going on in here-- unless they "accidentally" got loud.
That was all reason enough to slip into her flip-flops and stalk towards the shower. But the strongest one of all was the possibility of releasing her anger. Maybe Eric could shoot hoops faster and better, but she always took the lead in their sexy life. It'd be a small compensation in the face of greater bitterness.
"That is the saddest horndog move I have ever seen," Amber declared, yanking the shower door open and shutting it once she'd stepped inside. There was barely enough room for them, so already they were as close as two bodies could get without touching. "Seriously. You're a guy. You just closed the door on me! Can't you do better than that? Or do I have to ‘school’ you?" Amber took hold of his two hands and pulled them back, making them mold her ass. In the process, their hips came up together. His back blocked all the water, but that was hardly important. "This is how you do horndog. See the difference?"