Chapter 1: A Distraction She Can't Ignore
Sarah sat in her office wondering what had happened. After taking the supplements this morning, her clit seems to have doubled in size. It was pulsing! Every movement she made forced her clit to rub against her panties. Walking to the office from the car nearly made her cum. How was she going to survive the rest of the day? Her office had glass walls - everyone could look in.
Sarah decided to ignore the ache between her legs. She turned on the computer and started to work.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the ache between her thighs was too much. She clenched her legs tightly, but the rubbing only intensified the feeling. Her blouse clung to her skin, and she could feel herself getting wetter by the minute. The printer hummed in the background, and she imagined the vibrations could help, if only for a moment.
The door opened and Mark walked in, carrying a coffee. He was a tall man, broad shouldered, with a warm smile that always seemed to light up the room. He was completely unaware of the state his wife was in. "You seem tense, babe," he said, handing her the coffee.
The ceramic mug was warm in her hands, but it did nothing to ease the heat pooling between her thighs. Sarah forced a smile, her fingers tightening around the handle.
"Just a long day," she replied, her voice steady despite the throbbing between her legs. She took a sip of the coffee, the bitter liquid grounding her for a moment. Mark leaned against her desk, his eyes scanning the clutter of notes and spreadsheets.
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he were asking about a work deadline rather than the relentless ache that had taken over her body.
Sarah shifted in her chair, the fabric of her skirt brushing against her sensitive skin.
The sensation sent a jolt through her, and she bit her lip to stifle a gasp. Mark’s question hung in the air, innocent and unaware.
“Just… work stuff,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. She cleared her throat, trying to sound normal. “Deadlines, meetings, you know how it is.”
Mark nodded, his eyes flicking to the screen where a half-finished spreadsheet glowed. “You’ve been working hard lately. Maybe you should take a break.”
Sarah’s fingers twitched. A break? Right now, the only break she wanted was the kind that involved a locked door, a few minutes of privacy, and the desperate relief her body was screaming for.
But she couldn’t say that. Not to Mark. Not to anyone.
“Maybe later,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice that didn’t match the tightness in her chest. She shifted again, her thighs pressing together, the friction sending another wave of heat through her. She could feel her pulse between her legs, insistent, demanding.
Mark reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re working too hard. You need to relax.”
*Relax.* The word was almost laughable. If only he knew. If only he could feel the way her body was betraying her, the way her mind kept drifting to the most inappropriate thoughts.
Sarah’s breath hitched as Mark’s hand lingered on her shoulder, his touch sending a fresh wave of heat through her. She could feel her nipples hardening against the lace of her bra, her skin flushed and sensitive. She wanted to lean into him, to let him pull her into his arms and ease the ache that had been building all day. But she couldn’t. Not like this. Not when she was this out of control.
She forced a smile, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll relax later, I promise.”
Mark studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting a little… off.”
Sarah’s stomach twisted.
*Off.* That was one way to put it. She was pretty sure "off" didn’t even begin to cover the fact that she was currently sitting in her ergonomic chair, her thighs slick with arousal, her clit throbbing so insistently she could barely think straight.
She took another sip of coffee, the bitter liquid doing nothing to distract her from the way her pulse hammered between her legs. "Just tired," she said, her voice a little too bright. "You know how it is—deadlines, meetings, and then I wake up and do it all over again."
After Mark left, Sarah had to fight off several orgasms as every movement seemed to enflame her clit. She had never been this horny and she still had hours of work left
. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She needed to find a solution. Maybe she could call her doctor, but what would she say? *"Hey, I took some random supplement and now my clit is the size of a golf ball. Can you fix me?"*
She scrolled through her contacts, her fingers hovering over her gynecologist’s name. She imagined the conversation, the raised eyebrows, the inevitable questions. *"Have you been under a lot of stress, Sarah?"* *"No, I just took a supplement that turned me into a walking sex bomb!"* That wouldn’t go over well.
She sighed and tossed her phone onto the desk.
The muted thud sent a fresh jolt through her hips, as if the impact had directly vibrated her clit. She bit down on her lower lip, trying not to make a sound. The office beyond her glass walls was alive with the usual hum of productivity—keyboards clacking, chairs rolling, the occasional laugh—but all of it now felt like background noise to the relentless pulse between her thighs.
Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. She needed to move. She needed to *do* something. The chair creaked beneath her again as she shifted forward, only for the seam of her panties to drag against her swollen clit, sending a sharp, electric thrill up her spine.
She hissed through her teeth, gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to leave half-moon marks in the wood.
*Think, Sarah. Think.*
She could practically feel the dampness seeping through the thin cotton of her panties, the way her thighs had begun to stick together with each slight movement. She needed relief. Now.
Her eyes darted toward the small, lockable filing cabinet in the corner of the room—the one she used to store sensitive client documents. But right now, it might as well have been a vault leading straight to paradise.
Sarah exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to stay still. No. She couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
By the time 5pm arrived, Sarah had fought off countless orgasms. Her pussy was a soaked mess and her clit was constantly on the verge of a massive orgasm. Sarah was barely holding it together. She had to get out of the office before she did something reckless.
The moment the clock struck five, Sarah snapped her laptop shut with more force than necessary. The sharp *click* echoed in the emptying office, and she winced—not from the sound, but from the way the sudden movement made her clit throb in protest.
She grabbed her bag, her fingers fumbling with the strap as she slung it over her shoulder. The fabric of her skirt brushed against her thighs, and she had to bite back a whimper.
Every step toward the elevator was torture, her swollen clit rubbing against the damp lace of her panties. The office was nearly empty, but she could still feel the weight of invisible eyes on her.
She pressed the elevator button with a trembling finger. The doors slid open immediately, and she stepped inside, grateful for the empty space. But the moment the doors closed, the confined space seemed to amplify her arousal. The hum of the elevator’s descent vibrated through the floor, sending a fresh wave of heat between her legs.
Sarah clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She needed to get home.
Home meant she could finally cum!
Before the elevator hit the ground floor, Sarah's phone buzzed with a notification. She had to rush to meet her trainer at the gym! She had not time to go home to take care of her problem!
Sarah grunted in frustration but retrieved the gym bag from the trunk of her car and headed to the gym.
The ache between her thighs had only intensified, her clit throbbing in time with each step. The fluorescent lighting of the gym felt too bright, too harsh, and the stale scent of sweat and disinfectant did nothing to calm her.
She changed into her gym clothes and had to gasp when she realized her tight shorts had a seam running sitting on her inflated clit. She was going to have to work out like this. Her trainer would be here any minute. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on her breathing. In and out. In and out.
The gym was bustling with the usual post-work crowd—people grunting through reps, the rhythmic clank of weights, the occasional burst of laughter from the free weights section. Sarah forced herself to walk toward the treadmills, her thighs pressing together with each step, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through her body.
*Focus. Just focus.*
She stepped onto the treadmill and set it to a brisk walk, hoping the movement would distract her.
Her breath hitched as the belt carried her forward, her shorts rubbing against her swollen clit. The sensation was too much, too intense. She gripped the handrails, her knuckles white, her body trembling with the effort of control.
She had just managed to calm her breathing when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Sarah! You're late."
She turned to see her trainer, Jake, walking toward her with his usual easy grin. Tall, lean, and effortlessly confident, Jake always had that way of making people feel at ease. At least, he did before today.
Sarah forced a smile, her voice tight.
"Traffic was a nightmare," she lied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The movement sent another wave of heat between her legs, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a gasp.
Jake’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes flicked over her with the practiced eye of someone who noticed everything. "You look like you’ve been running a marathon already," he said, his tone light but observant. "You good?"
*Good?* Sarah thought, her fingers tightening around the treadmill’s handrails.
Her thighs were slick with arousal, her clit throbbing so insistently that even the slightest shift of her weight sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She could feel the dampness seeping into her shorts, the fabric clinging to her in a way that made every movement a test of her control.
*"I’m fine,"* she said, her voice coming out a little too breathy. She cleared her throat and forced a laugh. *"Just one of those days, you know?"*
Jake nodded, though his expression was still assessing. "Alright, let’s get started. Warm-up first—five minutes at a light jog, then we’ll hit the weights."
Sarah swallowed hard.
All she could think about was the swollen bundle of nerves between her legs, the way the seam of her shorts kept dragging against it.
"Sarah?" Jake’s voice cut through the haze. "You sure you're okay? You look flushed."
She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus on him instead of the relentless throb between her thighs. "Just—hot in here," she managed to say. Which was technically true, wasn't it?
Jake chuckled, his deep laugh cutting through the noise of the gym. "You're not wrong. Let’s get you on the treadmill, then maybe some stretching. You’ve been really tense lately."
Sarah stepped onto the belt, adjusting the speed to a light jog.
The moment she began to move, the seam of her shorts pressed against her swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her body. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, her fingers gripping the handrails with white-knuckled intensity.
*Just five minutes,* she told herself. *Just five minutes and then you can find a way to make this stop.*
But the treadmill’s rhythmic motion only made things worse. Each step sent a fresh wave of sensation through her, her clit throbbing in time with her pulse. She could feel the dampness spreading, her shorts clinging to her in a way that made every movement agonizingly pleasurable.
The gym’s noise faded into a dull roar as her focus narrowed to the relentless throb between her legs. Five minutes felt like an eternity.
Jake’s voice cut through her haze. “Sarah, you’re still not warmed up.” He stood beside the treadmill, arms crossed, watching her with a frown. “Your form’s off. You’re tensing your shoulders.”
Sarah swallowed hard, forcing herself to unclench her jaw. “Yeah, I—just got a lot on my mind.”
Jake tilted his head, studying her. “You’ve been distracted lately.” It wasn’t a question. “Is everything okay at home?”
*Home.* The word sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
If Jake only knew.
Sarah adjusted her grip on the treadmill’s handlebars, her knuckles whitening. “Everything’s fine,” she managed, her voice tight. “Just work stress.”
Jake didn’t push, but his gaze lingered on her flushed face, her rapid breaths. He reached out and adjusted the treadmill’s speed, slowing it slightly. “Ease up. You’re not racing. You’re supposed to be warming up.”
Sarah exhaled sharply as the belt slowed, the reduced speed doing little to ease the pressure between her thighs. The friction was still there, still relentless, the seam of her shorts pressed firmly against her swollen clit.
Despite her best efforts to think of anything else, Sarah as about to cum! In the middle of a crowded gym, she was about to have the biggest orgasm of her life. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Sarah felt the orgasm start in the curling of her toes. A nanosecond before it exploded, Jake turned off the treadmill! Her orgasm died as the movement stopped. She was both relieved and incredibly frustrated.
Her body was still humming with need, her clit throbbing insistently, but the orgasm had been snatched away at the last second. Sarah stood frozen on the treadmill, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her fingers still gripping the handrails like they were the only things keeping her upright.
Jake frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You look like you're about to pass out," he said, his voice laced with concern. "Maybe we should take a break."
Sarah shook her head, forcing a shaky laugh. "No, I'm fine.
Just... overheated," Sarah insisted, her voice strained as she wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. The touch sent another jolt through her hips, making her clench her thighs together.
Jake didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped back, giving her space. "Alright, but let’s switch to weights. Light resistance first—you don’t want to pull something."
Sarah nodded, stepping off the treadmill with what she hoped was a normal gait. Her legs felt unsteady, her body still thrumming with that maddening pulse between her thighs. She followed Jake to the weight bench, her shorts riding up with every step.
The pressure against her clit was relentless now, the damp cotton clinging to her swollen flesh with each movement. She adjusted her grip on the gym bag slung over her shoulder, the weight pulling at the fabric of her shirt just enough to make her gasp.
Jake had already laid out a set of dumbbells on the bench. "Let’s start with some goblet squats," he said, his voice clinical but not unkind. "Slow and controlled."
Sarah nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She set her water bottle down and took a deep breath before stepping into position.
The moment she bent her knees to lower into the squat, the seam of her shorts pressed directly against her clit. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she had to lock her knees to keep from collapsing.
Jake raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
Sarah forced a tight smile. "Just—tight hamstrings."
He studied her for a second longer, then nodded. "Alright, let's modify. Try it without the full range of motion."
Sarah exhaled in relief and attempted the squat again, this time keeping her knees only slightly bent. The pressure eased just enough for her to complete the movement without cumming right there on the gym floor.
"Better?" Jake asked.
Sarah nodded, her fingers digging into the dumbbell’s metal handle so hard her knuckles turned pale. The modified squat didn’t eliminate the pressure—nothing ever did at this point—but at least she wasn’t seconds away from screaming in the middle of the gym anymore. She focused on the burn in her quads instead of the throb between her legs, her breath coming in shallow, controlled puffs like she was meditating through torture.
Across the gym, a group of college guys were spotting each other on the bench press. One of them—tall, sun-bleached hair curling at his collar—kept glancing over at Sarah with a smirk that made her skin prickle.
Not in a good way. In a *he knows something’s up* way. She could practically hear the thoughts in his head: *"Damn, that woman looks like she’s about to climb the walls."*
Sarah forced herself to focus on the dumbbell in her hands, her biceps trembling as she lifted it to shoulder height. The weight was nothing compared to the fire between her legs, but at least it gave her something to concentrate on besides the way her clit pulsed with every shift of her hips. “Good. Now hold that position for a count of three.”
Sarah locked her arms, the muscles in her shoulders burning.
She held the dumbbell at shoulder height, her breath coming in short, controlled bursts. The weight was nothing compared to the relentless throb between her thighs, but at least it gave her something to focus on besides the way her clit pulsed with every slight shift of her hips.
Jake stepped closer, his voice low. "You're holding your breath. Breathe out on the lift, in on the lower."
Sarah exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around the dumbbell’s handle. The metal was cool against her palms, a small comfort against the heat pooling between her legs. She lowered the weight slowly, her thighs trembling as the seam of her shorts dragged against her swollen clit.
The pressure was growing unbearable, her body trembling with the effort to maintain control. Each tiny movement sent fresh waves of pleasure-pain through her, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, dampening the edge of her hairline. The gym’s fluorescent lighting felt too harsh against her flushed skin, every shadow emphasizing the way her body betrayed her. She could feel eyes on her again—not just Jake’s assessing gaze, but the lingering looks from other gym-goers. The college guys had stopped lifting entirely, their attention fixed on her with open curiosity. Her clit was obscenely large. Could they notice? There was definitely a noticeable bulge in her shorts.
Jake cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Sarah, why don't we switch to some deadlifts?" Jake suggested, his voice cutting through her fog of arousal. "It'll help with your posture."
Sarah blinked, forcing herself to focus on his words. Deadlifts. Right. That meant bending over, which meant more pressure, more friction, more—
She swallowed hard. "Sure," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jake led her to the deadlift platform, where a barbell already rested on the floor. He adjusted the weights, his movements precise and efficient. Sarah watched his hands, the way his fingers curled around the metal plates, the way his muscles flexed beneath his tight gym shirt.
Her mind betrayed her, imagining those hands on her body instead of the barbell.
She could feel her clit throbbing in time with her heartbeat, each pulse sending a fresh wave of heat through her. Sarah shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her thighs slick with arousal. She could feel the dampness seeping through the fabric of her shorts, the seam pressing against her swollen clit with every movement.
Jake handed her the barbell, his fingers brushing against hers for just a moment. The contact sent a jolt through her, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a gasp. "You got this," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.
Sarah took a deep breath, steeling herself.
She could do this. She had to do this. She was Sarah fucking Carter, the woman who closed multi-million dollar deals on a Tuesday and still had time to crush her PRs at the gym. She was not the kind of woman who got undone by a little—okay, a *lot*—of arousal.
She bent down, gripping the barbell with both hands. The moment she lowered her torso, the seam of her shorts pressed firmly against her swollen clit. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the cold metal.
"Keep your back straight," Jake instructed, his voice calm but firm.
Sarah forced herself to focus on his words.
*Back straight. Hips back. Control.*
She lifted the barbell, her thighs trembling as she rose. The pressure against her clit was unbearable, the seam of her shorts dragging along her swollen flesh with every movement. She gritted her teeth, her breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts.
"Good," Jake said, his voice steady. "Now lower it slowly."
Sarah exhaled, her fingers gripping the barbell so tightly her knuckles turned white. She bent her knees, lowering the weight as the seam of her shorts dragged against her clit. The sensation was almost too much—she could feel the orgasm building again, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter inside her.
She had to stop.
She *had* to stop. But Jake’s hands were on her hips now, guiding her form, his touch sending another fresh wave of heat through her. His fingers pressed into her flesh just above the waistband of her shorts, and the slightest pressure sent a jolt straight to her clit. Sarah’s vision blurred at the edges.
"Breathe," Jake murmured, his voice close to her ear. "You’re locking up."
She tried to inhale, but her lungs burned. The barbell was heavy in her hands, her arms trembling—not from effort, but from the relentless throb between her legs.
The seam of her shorts kept dragging along her clit with every slight shift, the friction sending electric pulses up her spine. Jake’s hands were still on her hips, his fingers pressing just hard enough to anchor her, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the waistband of her shorts.
Sarah’s breath came in shallow gasps, her vision narrowing. She could smell his cologne—something warm and spicy, like cedar and citrus—and beneath that, the faint musk of his workout sweat. It was intoxicating. Maddening.
"Sarah," Jake said, his voice low, "you need to relax your shoulders."
*Relax.* The word echoed in her skull like a taunt.
She swallowed hard.
After three more reps she realized she had to put the weight down. The feeling in her clit was about to explode and she would die of shame if she orgasmed in front of all these people.
She dropped the barbell with a loud clang that silenced the nearby conversations. All eyes were on her now. As she stood up, she felt her juices continue to drip from her pussy onto her gym shorts. She could smell the musky scent of her own arousal. Every man in the gym could probably smell it too.
"Let's do some lunges and we'll stretch," said Jake.
Sarah started to panic. Lunges? She won't be able to do it without cumming! She already fought off several orgasms. She had very little endurance left. She wasn't sure she could stop herself from a massive orgasm.
The lunges would end everything. She would cum in the middle of the gym, in front of everyone. Her humiliation would be complete and permanent.
Sarah's mind raced as she stood frozen, her body trembling with need. She could feel the dampness spreading between her thighs, the fabric of her shorts clinging to her swollen flesh. Every breath she took sent another wave of heat through her, her clit throbbing insistently against the seam of her shorts.
Jake stood before her, his hands on his hips, waiting for her to start the lunges. His usual easy grin was absent now, replaced by a concerned frown.
She gave herself a mental pep talk. She could do this! One more exercise and she could go home and explode while riding her husband's cock. She just had to survive another few minutes.