Arousing Daddy's

by Taylor Sparks

  With that I knew it was time for me to step it up. For the next Tuesday I finally brought myself to wear, along with the pink panties, the tight camisole I had bought the previous month instead of a leotard. Now I would be in the same revealed state before attractive men and women that I had seen Marcus and the others in. I was almost panting in anticipation at the prospect of showing myself to the class in this state. Upon arrival I slowly removed my outerwear, and could feel the soft lace hem of the cami tickling my torso and the cooler air caressing the band of skin exposed between it and the waistband of my panties. As a result I started to get hard. My ears were hissing with internal tension as I slowly turned around to face the class. I noted the looks of approval from my classmates and indeed of hunger on a few, not all female.

  That class went very well and we practiced many specific partnering moves in the ballet and modern idioms. As men outnumbered women, for those pas de deux requiring one of each we would simply have a man take the woman's role. This required an ease between the male partners, if straight as I still considered myself to be, that was fostered in the knowledge that the partner was just as vulnerable. This in turn enabled us to dance with our bodies and our spirit, leaving our minds not to interfere but only to make inferences later.

  Kyle and I had a magnificent practice session in which he, garbed only in a white lacy panty that left nothing of his lithe physique and imposing package to the imagination, danced and held me closely to the strains of Stravinsky's Firebird. Toward the end I could feel his hard cock grazing and then pressing insistently against my back and then my chest as I grasped him around the ribcage in my role as the dying Firebird. Sliding down, my face drew level with his lace panties and his cock brushed across my face. I gently moved my face across his hardon as it drew by, giving a frisson of pleasure to my partner, and I ended up on the floor, my hand cradled between his legs while his own embraced my head. The class softly applauded the performance, as much for the integrity of the performance as for our technique [to be honest, I wasn't even close to James or Kyle].

  As our classes had become increasingly demanding physically, our instructors had recommended we take our warmdowns more seriously. This included massage of the rest of the body, not just the back, neck and legs. As I positioned myself over Eliza for this endeavor after my pas de deux with Kyle, I could not help maintaining an enormous erection in my pink panties. I gently worked on Eliza's back and neck, then moved down to her lower back. For fun I softly ran my fingers along the waistband of her dancewear, which I noticed was simply a panty this time. She responded with a wriggle and soft indecipherable moan.

  When she turned over, she locked her blue eyes on mine, at which point I was intoxicated. I worked the front of her thighs and then moved up to her torso, which I gently surrounded with my hands and then I traced them back and forth across her stomach. She writhed silently under this treatment. Then I gently moved upwards, reaching the limit formed by the bottom of her splendid breasts and moving my hands around and between them. I noticed her breath quickening and further that a wet spot much like those the men sported had formed in the front of her panties.

  When it was my turn to receive, Eliza softly whispered, "Lose the cami", a command with which I instantly complied. She started slowly, working on my calves and thighs. Then she attended to my back, and I shuddered as her hands crept closer and closer to the waistband of my panties. When I turned over, my erection formed a pink and flesh bar two inches high running from crotch to waistband above my flat stomach with a large spot of precum staining one end. I watched her move slowly north, her eyes fixed on the flesh colored bulge straining against my pink panties. Her magical touch made my dick pulse against the panties, which she noticed to my delight. When she reached the top of my legs, she ran her fingers just inside the legholes and waistband, and then returned to me the same torso treatment I had so carefully granted her. The only differences were that she managed to drag her hand across my panties and therefore my hardon more than a few times, and when she was nearly finished she spent a couple of minutes concentrating on my nipples, drawing light circles around them with her fingers and nails while crouched over me with her large breasts spilling out of a plunging yellow leotard. This too nearly drove me insane, and contributed to the leakage of even more precum. I practically ran home from the bus that day to jerk off, spilling my seed in the panties as I rubbed and moved my cock inside.

  I was pretty sure this would be the peak experience associated with this class, but thankfully I was mistaken. James and Nicole appeared the following week in new attire appropriate to the female roles they were to interpret that day. James had a soft flowing short skirt over a white thong and topped by a blue teddy, and Nicole sported a short, sheer white dress over nude panties. I was chosen to lead James in a pas de deux from Swan Lake. I now received treatment similar to that I had provided to James previously, James running his hands over my legs and back, and my role requiring me to reach under his dress and lift him by the crotch. As my hands met his hardened cock he gave off an almost imperceptible sigh and he grew limp, just as the choreography demanded. My own strength responded to provide the necessary lifts and my cock, today encased in the white panties, visibly lengthened at this expression of emotional integrity.

  Nicole was selected to be my massage partner afterwards and I gave her a caring and passionate rubdown. When she had me turn over, I felt the soft caresses of her dress on my legs and torso, arousing me even further. She sat lightly on my upper thighs and rubbed down my nipples and then my torso. As she leaned forward her dress formed a tent over my panties and she smoothly ran her hands over my stomach underneath the dress. Next she gently cupped my raging erection in one hand and massaged my pecs with the other. I moaned as she softly ran her hand up and down over my pantied cock. Then she folded the hem of the dress under my cock, so that I was feeling her soft dress underneath as well as the panties. She made long slow strokes with her fingers underneath and her thumb and the mound of palm flesh adjacent over my cock. After a few minutes of this I could take no more. I could feel from my toes to my forehead an onrush that signaled an orgasm. Nicole could feel the difference too, but had no mercy, giving me the same long, soft strokes that led to this state. I felt like my eyes turned to the back of my head as my penis erupted within the bright white panties, jetting into these what seemed like six copious cumshots. As Nicole slowly rose, I felt the eyes of the rest of the class on me and my now soaked panties. Any trace of embarrassment I might have felt was erased as I felt the special bond forged in that class, evinced by the friendly and somewhat loving gazes they reserved for me. Nicole even gave me a nice tight hug, soiling the front of her own dancewear in the process.

  The End.

  Green Piece

  I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Danielle. Call her whatever you like -- Dani, Dana, Elle, names don't matter much to her. I call her Dani, sometimes Terra. She's a beautiful girl, my Dani, though every guy says that about his girl when he can get away with it. Truth is, there are a lot of beautiful women, some heart-meltingly cute, others smoking hot, many simply attractive in an earthy way. The last is my Dani, not the girl next door, but the girl outdoors. Long brown hair of caramel hue that is always tied back in a ponytail or secured, because brushing it out after a day out can be a real bitch, she tells me.

  Hazel eyes to match and complexion that is almost always tanned a darker than normal shade. She comes by her tans honestly, not by the artificially-inflicted light cast in gaudy salons, or that sickly orange shade that comes out of a spray bottle, but the darkening that is gifted to people with skin that doesn't burn easily. That is a gift because she looks even better with the exotic coloring.

  Not an ounce of fat on her, though nobody will ever mistake her for a bodybuilder. Slight of frame, and angular in her appearance, she has a modest bust and a height to match the average man. Those comparatively smaller breasts are a feature nobody will ever complain about, because she's got legs,
and does she know how to use them? You betcha she does.

  A friend once told me, "When you've made the long climb up that stairway to heaven, anything more than a handful is a waste." Hank was kind of an asshole, and I'm pretty sure he cobbled both lines together from old movies, but hey, there's truth to it. She's got more than enough up top and looks great with what she's got.

  ***

  Terra is my nickname for her, and as weird as it sounds, there really is good inspiration for it. As a kid, mythology was one of my favorite hobbies, and the idea that there might be this pantheon of gods and goddesses that ruled over every aspect of life had a weird sort of appeal. Not cool anymore, because there are enough losers running the show and telling us how we should live our lives without adding divinities into the mix, but as a kid? Yeah, ate it right up, nom nom nom.

  The Greek and Roman pantheons are almost like mirror images of each other, each with deities of the same spheres, but Gaia and Terra always seemed to be the most appropriate. Not Artemis or Diana -- their divine resumes also include nature, but they're all about the hunt and virginity. The only hunting Dani does is with a camera and virginity was a fond memory long before I came into the picture.

  Who is Terra? She's the Roman goddess of earthquakes, of pregnant animals and motherhood. Anyone who knows her can draw the first parallel easily enough. Terra... Danielle, I mean... believes in things passionately. She's always got a cause, be it an endangered bird or beast, an environment in need of protecting, a faceless corporation to earn her savage contempt.

  A greenie is what most people would call her, but she's not that brand of asshole that better classifies as an eco-extremist. In her eyes, people are animals too, and as her own species, deserving of the first and foremost consideration. To her, it's about the balance, and she believes that laziness and greed are the only reasons not to seek that balance.

  It probably goes without saying that she works part time as in veterinarian's clinic while working on her degree in Biology. Don't ask me what she studies, stuff like that is way over my head, something to do with systematic research. I don't bother to try and understand since she usually laughs at me when I make the effort. The veterinary work is where animals come in.

  As for motherhood? It's no secret that she wants to have kids someday, but like most girls, she's looking for Mr. Right, and it's up in the air as to whether that's me or not.

  ***

  That's my Danielle, my Terra. In fact, if you knew me, you might wonder what exactly attracts her to me. Confession time: techno-geek here. Sure, it's a field with potential for big money, but I do spend an awful lot of free time indulging my internet interests, talking on the phone, and in general, substituting electronics for their real world counterparts. I'm the guy who sets up a folder filled with pictures of beautiful scenery or exotic locations to enjoy and obsess over later. I suppose it is nature porn of a kind, except without women in it. Don't ask what fetish that is; I don't jerk off over it! Just gaze longingly and drool.

  That was how we met. Though we weren't in similar programs, we did share a couple of entry-level courses, and knew each other by name, if nothing else.

  So there I was, between classes at the computer lab, sorting through a ridiculous variety of photographs working out an organized format, and the first thing I heard was a breathy voice saying, "Carlsbad Caverns? Yellowstone? I don't even recognize that one... have you actually been to all these places?"

  Startled out of my point-and-click reverie, I turned to find myself nose to nose with the brunette, her hazel eyes intent on the computer screen. "Uh, n-no. Just a collection of photos I've picked up at sites all over the internet. Personal collection, you know?"

  She turned her attention to me, and startled at the proximity of my face, drew back. Laughing uneasily, she said, "What, you mean you haven't been to _any_ of them? That's so boring."

  Yeah, it kind of stings, being told by a pretty girl you barely know that your personal hobbies are boring. Stung, I replied defensively. "Really, who has the time? There's so much other stuff to do."

  "Like what?" Danielle asked skeptically. "In the hours it takes you to look up and organize all those pictures, you could probably have spent an afternoon biking and enjoying a lot of the same kind of scenery."

  There's a point at which the attention of a pretty girl is not what you hoped it would be and she starts to piss you off. Danielle was quickly reaching that point. "Go out and get dirty, hot and tired? Why, when you can get a better and way more varied experience with a single Google search? What's the point?"

  At the time, it seemed as if such a pointed dig at her own hobbies might make her a little more appreciative of how she was treating mine, but she simply smiled.

  "You're engaging one sense only."

  "Sight? What does that even mean?"

  "Engage your brain, college-man" she said, rolling her eyes. "You like steak?"

  "Well, yeah, doesn't everyone? What's your point?"

  "Engage your senses. Sound -- don't you love the way it sizzles on the grill? Taste - whether you like it rare or browned, it appeals first on flavor alone. Smell -- that savor gives the taste even more context. Sight -- you just know it's going to be even better, the way the way the juice drips right off the meat." Fascinated, I watched as she unconsciously licked her lips. Later, I'd mentally add in heavy sexual overtones to the memory, but for now, Danielle was in her zone, preaching Her Word. "Touch -- You're your fork into the tender meat, ready to cut a slice."

  Grinning widely, the hazel of her eyes flickering in the light, she said, "Are you still sure that a photo of a steak is as satisfying as the real thing?"

  First impression: Danielle was clearly not a vegetarian, whatever greenie tendencies she possessed. Second impression: she'd just thoroughly owned me in this argument. I had nothing.

  "I don't have a white flag to wave, but I concede! Truce! Truce!" I acknowledged with a laugh, trying to show a little class in defeat.

  That triumphant grin softened somewhat. "Okay, I'll be nice. To be fair, you're more honest about your response than some people are. Computers are useful in their place, but people spend way too much time on them. Wouldn't you rather experience some things for yourself?"

  "Never thought about it," I admitted. "Easier to just log on, do your thing, move on to something else."

  "Bo-ring" Danielle repeated emphatically. "You have a bike, don't you?"

  "Of course, who can afford gas these days?"

  "Well then, why don't you come along this Saturday when we go riding on the Waverland Backtrails?"

  I could think of a few things I'd rather be doing, but she clearly wasn't going to let me off the hook until she'd had a chance to prove her theories in the field. "Sure, I suppose. Who's 'we'?"

  "You might know Josh from Comp, but they're mostly just people I've met here at the U. Five of us, all told. We have lots of fun and we're not all in the same majors, so you don't have to feel like the extra wheel."

  Yeah, she wasn't giving me any outs, so I agreed to it.

  ***

  Danielle was as good as her word, and when they came to pick me up in Rod's van that weekend, there was no sense of being the odd man out. All that talk of bicycling through back trails, enjoying all that nature had to offer, gazing upon god's green earth gave me the distinct impression that I was going to be hooking up with a bunch of unwashed hippie kids straight out of those Fifties documentaries, but it wasn't like that at all. They were just ordinary people, could have been anyone passing in the hallways back at the university. Lisa was a Psych major, her boyfriend Rod was in the same program. Josh had something to do with Biology, but I never quite figured out what Sam did, just that she was supremely dissatisfied with it and never wanted to talk about school.

  Despite their almost dull projection of being ordinary folks like anyone else, they seemed more focused, and I quickly found out that was because cell phones were to be turned off at all times and other techie devices except fo
r ordinary cameras were banned from the trip. Not that they didn't own such things, Danielle told me pointedly, just that devices were an unnecessary distraction.

  I thank whatever forces guide them that they took it easy on me that first time. Turns out that the Waverland Backtrails are one of the easier terrains to cross, and biking can fast become a serious workout, challenging the endurance. As it was, they had to stop for me several times, huffing and puffing to keep up. I'd enjoyed thinking of myself as lean and healthy before that day, benefiting from subsistence on a college diet without any unsightly love handles or flesh, but the illusion was shattered. It seems that not being fat doesn't necessarily mean you are physically fit.

  They all played nice, though, thank god for that. Good company, and more importantly, that was the day Danielle first seduced me. 'First', because she didn't do it with her body, but her mind; the other would come later. When we stopped at destination points she'd already arranged ahead of time with the group, she'd point things out that I'd have missed otherwise, naming flora and fauna... those were her words, not mine... with the ease of someone who has spent years observing them. Always doing it with that evocative game she'd first played with me at the computer lab.

  "Open your mouth, just enough to breathe and inhale. Combine that with what you smell of the maples. Notice that even without putting anything on your tongue, you can practically taste the bitterness? If there are conflicting odors, you could judge by the lightness or texture of the bark, but that is how you tell the difference between reds and sugars."