Ballerina

Who said boys can't be ballerinas? Why would it be wrong for a soft, feminine boy to dance with the girls on his college dance team? You were never strong enough or masculine enough to succeed as a male dancer...given your love of dance, why not find another place in the company?

Besides, while it was strange at first, you came to love the feeling, don't you, a man's hands on your waist, your legs, moving you, directing you. You came to love feeling his body press against you during the romantic dances, his strong hands, his masculine scent.

You were honored when he asked you to stay late, after the rest of the company left, to practice that one dance.

You were nervous at first, to be alone with him, but you loved the feeling, didn't you?

The warmth of his body, his strength as he pressed against you from behind. His hands holding your waist, moving up and down, caressing you, touching you, your chest, your thigh, your ass.

You felt a tingling as he pressed his pelvis against you at the pivotal moment in the dance, felt not his hip, as before, but something different, something thick, warm, hard.

He didn't spin you out away from him as the dance called for, instead he pulled you closer to him, rubbed his throbbing erection against your skirt and tights, one hand on your chest, the other ran up your nylon covered leg, rested on the flat front of your leotard where your little penis was safely tucked between your legs, unable to stir, unable to swell.

"I...I never...I mean...I've never been with..."

"I know," he said gently, grinding against your ass, breathing on your neck.

Suddenly, you have an overwhelming need to be taken, a need you've never felt before. A need to feel him inside you, a need to pleasure him, a need to feel him fill you. "I..."

"Shhh," he says, moving his hand to your ass. He pulls your leotard to one side, pinches your tights, making a hole, the leotard and tights still holding you back and tucked, soft, secure. You feel his fingers spread you, feel something cold, wet, slippery, feel his fingers push the goo inside you.

Suddenly, you feel it again, his erection. But this time not through his shorts, but his hot flesh, you feel the head of his cock press against you, spread you, start to fill you.

That morning you would have laughed if someone asked you if you wanted to feel a man inside you, but now, alone with him, god how you wanted him inside you, fucking you; it was everything, the only thing. 

You gripped the bar tightly as he thrust into you, fucking you, hard and fast until he pushed deep into you as he exploded, filling you with his cum.

It was odd, not bad, just odd. The feeling of being fucked without the feeling of an erection, without orgasm. Odd in that when he finally pulled out of you, you felt empty, like something was missing. 

"I think we're going to need to work on this dance after every practice," he said.