Fit and Freaky

I guess that I am a sexual person, and I guess that everyone else is too. I also understand that everyone wants to get laid and that no one wants to be alone. But not until I started going to the gym did I really start to understand the desperateness of it all.
If all the power was off in my gym, the lights could run on the sexual energy of the place. They guys are all sweaty and pretending to not notice the girls checking them out, and the girls do their stretches making sure that their booties are extra tooted in the air.
When I first started attending this gym, I laughed at the women who acted like they didn't know how to use the machines so that a man would come help them as well as at the men who always just happened to end up toweling themselves down in front of the ladies' locker room. But today, I found myself getting sucked in.
There was this guy who had to be in his mid-50s. He was an Omega. This I know from the brand on his arm. And even though he was old enough to be my daddy, may I just say that he was fine? He was all sexy and big and sweaty. He seemed to be everywhere I turned, probably because I was following him from machine to machine. If only I had the guts of some of the other chicks at the gym who would have skipped over to him in their color-coordinated Nike short set claiming to not know where the weights were, I might have walked away with a phone number.
Instead, I walked away feeling gross. Not because he was old, but because of the sexuality on display all around me. It almost felt like it was on sale. And as much as I hate seeing women act silly to attract a man, I was totally wishing that one of the racketball players asked me how much I cost. Or maybe one of the basketball players. Ugh, this is so gross! I will keep you posted though. Observing the predator-esque skills of everyone else in the gym and putting my own spin on it, maybe I can snag this trainer I have my eye on. So much for having dignity.