Those were days spent on an overdrive of testosterone kick. Long summer afternoons, gazing at my naked torso in front of the mirror, stroking my matted bush, rubbing my cock, getting turned on by new sensations, getting rock hard while walking through the men's underwear section, marveling at my curly pubic hair strands wrapped around my warm erection-every time I fantasized about my buddies-smearing my pre-cum all over the swollen uncut purple cock head.
S. was my dance instructor; my parents had always been very open minded about me wanting to take dance lessons and had arranged for me to receive private dancing lessons from a young talented dancer. I was 22 and he was 26, tough and taut like a warrior, had incredible sculpted legs, a quick wink in his eyes, hair as dark as night, with a chiseled nose (he was half Cherokee, half African American). His stoic eyes used to light up when he danced and I used to watch him mesmerized as he produced tantalizing dance movements; we practiced every week, upstairs in the big spacious room that had been remodeled and refitted recently with a fabulous new wooden floor. His muscular arms would throb and pulse, his slender waist would galvanize me, and his powerful legs would often trigger a maddening erection in me.
In between the recurring dance drills, we would catch ourselves gazing at each other, just for a brief second before regaining our composure and then it was back to the dance steps again. "You have a great future as a dancer. You have good timing and great posture" he would say. My inner monologue would respond "You know you have great solid buns and I bet a yummy dong to go with it". Watching him wipe off his forehead sweat was a visual torture, my eyes riveted on his biceps moving up and down, showing off a hint of armpit hair, just enough to wet my appetite. I yearned to surrender to him but I knew he would never initiate anything. So I decided to take matters in my own hands. For starters, I decided to wear a pair of white dance tights with a black thong underwear for our next dance class, and I hoped that my low cut thong would leave a telltale visual trail for him. The next practice session turned out to be taxing as I had a recital coming up soon and S. wanted to ensure that I was well prepared. Time passed slowly, unendingly almost and the more we danced, the more we sweat and the more we sweat the more aroused I was. My stiffness stood erect, tightly straining against my black thong and during the breaks, I would stretch my legs, rub my buns absentmindedly, and bend over in front of him, while I did that, pretending all along that it was just part of my stretching routine.
At some point, I caught his eyes fixed on my gluteus maximus, and he blushed. We spoke not a word but kept looking at each other. He wiped off his sweaty arms and started walking toward me, very casually, very leisurely. We were facing each other and the room was steeped in complete silence. My parents were away for the weekend and we were all alone. I could hear his heated breath and closed my eyes, feeling a bit dizzy with anticipation. Then I felt his slender fingers grazing past my raging hard-on and they rested gently on my package. I opened my eyes and stared into his steely yet soft gaze: "You have a nice throbbing going on there" he whispered as he massaged my cock. I could barely contain myself and hugged him tight, kissing his neck and earlobes.
