How do I put this into words? I think this is the worst training I've ever had. Every movement I make makes that stupid thing slide deeper in, tensing me up even more. It makes me hold my breath. I really try to relax, then try not to relax again since I can't get hard. My movements are so stiff that my students are probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me. And I don't think I've ever sweated so much before.
I decide to just watch the choreography, which I sometimes do to correct my students. But I can hardly concentrate on the steps or the music, let alone what they could do better. And then the stomach ache starts. I'm sure it's because I'm too tense. This can't be healthy.
I take several deep breaths and even close my eyes for a moment, thinking they are busy with the choreography anyway. I lean against the wall and try to relax again. After a few minutes, I feel better, almost as if my body has gotten used to the foreign object. I really think I can endure it until the end of the training. Then that damn thing starts to vibrate.
I take a sharp breath, shocked, which, thanks to the loud music, nobody notices. My whole body suddenly feels weak, and that urgent tickling between my legs is so strong that I can't take it any longer. I don't know how to distract myself anymore. Before I even think about giving up, I realize I'm getting hard.
I don't hesitate. I run out and back to the bathroom. I lock myself in and see that I left my phone there. Maybe it's better that way; otherwise, I might have finished him off now. But the worst part of the situation is that I don't know what to do now. I can't get it out. I can't just jerk off. I can't get distracted either. But I can't tell him to stop. What the actual fuck am I supposed to do?
Well, I stand there for a long while, trying to keep my hand from constantly reaching for my damn pants and breathing normally. It's hardly possible to distract myself. And then I have to think about that damn video from this morning. The noises of the bed railing. The boy gasping for air. Cursing. I remember him saying I'm allowed to touch myself, but I know full well that if I start now, I won't be able to stop. It really is torture.
"Oscar?"
I flinch. I hadn't even noticed how anyone entered the bathroom. But I'm locked in the stall. "Yes?" My voice is low, barely a whisper but somehow tense.
"Are you okay?" I can't even recognize which of my students it is. One of the younger ones.
"I... I don't feel so good right now. Can you... tell Michelle and Robin to continue class?"
"Oh, okay," he says. "Are you gonna be okay here on your own? Should I stay with you?"
"No," I say immediately. "No, I'm gonna be fine. Just... give me a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay."
"Wait. C-can you bring me my phone, please?"
"Oh, sure. I'll be right back. Do you need something else? Water?"
"No. Just my phone."
When he leaves, I realize that it's getting better. Maybe I can distract myself after all. He comes back a few minutes later and hands me my phone through the slit under the door. Then he asks if he really shouldn't stay and if I'm feeling better.
"Thanks, I'm really alright." I search for his number, find it, and call him right away when I hear the door closing.
"How are you doing, Oscar?" He really has the audacity to sound amused.
I try to pull myself together. "Could you—" My voice is brittle, my breathing still shaky. "Could you please make it stop?"
"Not yet."
I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the door again. "Please," I whisper. "I can't take it anymore, I..." I take a shaky breath. "I think I might come just from the vibration."
He laughs loudly. "Amusing."
"Please..."
"No."
"I'm... gonna come if you don't stop it."
"No you won't, Oscar. You can take more."
"H... How would you even know? You can't... sh... shit..."
"You've already taken more," he says. "Did you just curse?"
"Fuck, no. Shit, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He laughs again. "Stop fu— Stop laughing at me, god..."
"That was almost three days more."
"No, please..." God, I sound like I'm about to cry. Pathetic.
"Relax," he laughs. "I'm joking. It's still Friday. Oscar, if you really can't take it anymore, take it out. But then it's one hundred less."
"Shit..."
"Stop cursing."
"Shit, I'm sorry..."
"I'm hanging up now."
"No, wait!"
He really waits for a while. I stop breathing briefly, thinking about what to say. "Yes?"
"Uhm..." I can't think of anything. My mind is a huge chaos. But I can't hang up. Talking with him makes it easier. "What if... What if I take it out for ten minutes just so I can go home?"
"No," he says. "It's either all or nothing."
YOU ARE READING
Connect Us ✔
Teen Fiction"God, you're adorable," he chuckled, stepping towards me. When I felt his warmth right in front of me, a soft moan escaped my lips. He was close enough for me to catch the musky scent of his cologne. "Do you want me that bad?" My breath hitched, and...
