Natalie & the Ballet ClassbyCamden Squire©
I had naturally agreed to take Natalie, the girl who lived in the flat above me, to her ballet class. I couldn’t imagine any red-blooded male would ever turn a request down from a girl like that, but it was actually more because I wanted to be of help than anything else.
Natalie’s father was – by the most objective judgement – not fit to be a father, with his alcoholism and abusive tendencies. She had come to depend on me to take care of her when her father became intolerable, because I was there more than any other reason. I had found her sitting outside my flat one time, invited her in, and since then our relationship had suddenly blossomed into the realms of the sexual.
Sitting here in her ballet class, though, I really couldn’t believe my good fortune in being there to help her. I couldn’t believe that she had come to know me physically.
Natalie was absolutely beautiful. Her large, almond-shaped brown eyes, her voluptuous lips and button nose gave her the prettiest face – she could have been a Hollywood screen siren had she been given the breaks, I’m sure of it.
And here I was, watching her stretching and spinning and floating across the wooden floor in her tight leotard, the very definition of grace. I had volunteered to drive her here, to her ballet class in Camden, North London, because I was so fond of her and wanted to be there for her. I hadn’t really thought about the fact that I would get to see her like this.
It was quite a brightly-lit room, with a pine floor and for the most part mirrored walls. Natalie was in the fairly advanced class, among eight other girls, lithe and flexible as they put their slender bodies through a variety of graceful movements under the watchful eye of their teacher.
"Last time, girls," she called as she slowly wandered around, scrutinising his teenage prodigies as they stretched, pushed and leapt in finely-tuned physical acrobatics. "One more time and we’ll call it a day."
The girls were dressed in a variety of coloured leotards, and at the end of a long session their exertions had caused some of them to release a thin sheen of perspiration to add a healthy shine to their exposed skin. As I watched, the girls responded visibly to their teacher's demands, squeezing the final ounces of energy out of their tired muscles to perform for those last few moments before time was at last called.
Natalie had told me on the way over that they were putting some kind of show on later that month, and had a lot of work to put in before they were fully ready.
Sitting there watching them, I couldn’t help but lust after the girls’ trim physiques in their tight leotards, especially with that delicately musky odour of their sweat lingering in the air.
They were obviously very good at ballet, with a lot of real ability locked into their exquisite curves. My eyes trailed over the tight lines of their bodies tucked inside the scanty lycra, which did very little to conceal them. I could see some of them had hardened nipples poking at the thin material of their leotards, while with those wearing pale leotards you could see slightly darker triangular patches through the material covering their mouth-watering mounds – though some wore scraps of material like skirts.
But my focus was mostly on the young brunette I had made love to not so long ago, and she was the main reason my cock was stiff between my legs. And Natalie was one of the better ones in that class, even if I was more than a little biased in my opinion.
Every now and then, she would flash me a smile that would set my heart fluttering again, but then every now and then her classmates would flash me smiles, too – there was only a few men in there, for the most part fathers, and I was the only one under 30.
I’m pretty sure the other ballerinas were wiggling their cute little behinds my way, too, but it may just have been my imagination, or they may have wiggled their cute little behinds in their act, not specifically for me. But hey, a man can dream.
It was almost too much to take in terms of sexual torment, so when the old battle-axe ballet teacher announced: “Okay, girls, that’s all for this week,” I was more than ready to get out of there. And more than hopeful that some time soon Natalie would want some attention.
The girls calmly walked over towards their teacher for a final word before the end, those with the fairest complexions slightly flushed from their action, but all of them breathing deeply after the sustained workout.
”Hi,” my heart rate doubled as Natalie walked up to me and leaned down to kiss me. “Enjoy the show?”
I could taste the saltiness on her soft lips. I replied: “Yeah, it was great, you’re really good at this.”
She smiled proudly, “I really liked having you watch me.”
“I really enjoyed watching you.”
“You had quite an effect on the other girls, too,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Normally they only get a bunch of old dads watching them.”
“Well, that’s something,” I said, standing up. “What do you fancy doing for the rest of today?”
She grinned, “I fancy doing you, Jack. You up for it?”
"Of course," I said, and as we kissed, she subtly pressed a hand against my engorged cock, which was pressing against my trousers.
I waited while she slipped the blue sweat pants and top over her high-cut skin-tight leotard, and pulled a pair of old white sneakers over her delicate feet instead of the ballet shoes she had been wearing. As she changed, some of the other girls were giving me seductive looks, but I just responded with a nod and a smile.
"Ready?" she stood up.
“Let’s go,” I said.
On the way back to my place, I tried to keep my powerful lust in check by asking my pretty teenage passenger what she was going to do about her father. After all, I said, he didn’t seem to be improving any in his reckless abandon for life or family.
“I am eighteen now,” she replied, “so I can do whatever I want.”
“And what do you want?” I asked.
“I want to stay with you, of course.”
Well, I walked into that one. But I wasn’t unhappy that she wanted to live with me – I was thanking my lucky stars every minute I was with her. But there was the problem that my flat was directly below her father’s. What if he discovered her, bumped into her on the stairs some weeks after her disappearance?
“I should move flat,” I said as we drew up outside the very building in question.
“Why?” she asked me. “Dad mainly gets angry when I’m under his feet. If I occasionally show my face there, and otherwise stay with you, he won’t even know I’m gone.”
“Hmm,” I considered it. It would be easier to stay in my present flat. Finding a new flat is such a hassle. “Well,” I said, “if he hurts you again, we’ll move, okay?”
“Okay,” she grinned, then took my nearest hand and stuffed it down her sweatpants between her legs. She said: “Now, are you gonna take care of business? ‘Cause I am in need here, mister!”
Underneath the thin leotard, her pussy was so hot and wet. My cock was instantly hard as I touched her, and as I leaned over to kiss her, I caressed her mound through her ballet costume. Kissing her soft mouth, I breathed in her scent – a heady mix of her earlier perspiration and her underlying sweetness, as well as that growing aroma from between her legs, which thrilled me to my core.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” I said to her, and she was quick to agree.
Following her up to my flat, I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach from the anticipation of being with this pretty ballerina. The door swung open to reveal my small flat, dominated as it is by a huge king-size double bed.
I went into the kitchen to get a drink as she removed her sweatpants and top, climbing onto the soft bed to lie on her back in the centre. I had that feeling in me that I had had as a child before opening my Christmas presents. When I returned, I stripped down to a small pair of black cotton briefs, and the young girl on my bed smiled as she watched me undressing.
“The girls were all dancing for you today,” she said. “They kept asking me who you were.”
“Really?” I asked her, not quite sure how to deal with her statement.
The brunette teenager drew her brown eyes over my body, unable to keep from staring at my crotch as I approached the bed. I liked having her watch me – I keep in trim, after all, but I was a little self-conscious.
"Comfortable?" he asked her.
"Very," she smiled, blushing slightly perhaps from the arousing situation. She seemed a little awkward since she'd had no shower after her strenuous workout, but I wasn’t concerned with that. She looked incredible in that tight leotard, with that sexy rosy glow from her earlier efforts, and if she was a little hot and sticky, that was a good thing in my book.
I crawled onto the bed, staying there on all fours at her feet. Wanting to prolong the excitement, I told her: "Roll over and I’ll give you a massage."
"Mmm…" she couldn't help smiling back at the suggestion. She rolled over onto her front, and rested her chin on her hands.
I touched her calves, and just from touching her, she flinched slightly as if from surprise. I smiled: she was highly strung, completely ready for release. Gently at first, I caressed her legs, coaxed her flesh, kneading the stress and tiredness from her body, inch by blessed inch. She shivered as the intense pleasure of my ministrations lulled her into a seriously relaxed state.
I knelt above her ankles, my hands gliding over the teenager's pale skin, enjoying the smoothness of her hairless legs, smiling as I heard her moan softly, all her tension melting away in my hands.
Then slowly, my fingers crept up her thighs, feeling the warmth increasing exponentially as they got steadily closer and closer to her lycra-covered crotch, sensing that she was becoming seriously aroused by the intimate contact.
The young brunette parted her legs slightly, and as the circular motion of my hands reached close to her leotard-clad pussy, she pushed herself down, desperate for me to touch her where she really needed. But I denied her the quick option. First a massage, later there would be more.
She giggled as I rubbed her curvaceous behind, since it tickled when I rubbed her there, but I didn't make her suffer that for long, moving up to straddle her upper thighs so I could do her lower back, along her spine and up to her shoulders and the back of her neck.
Natalie shivered again as I coaxed the tension from her neck, the sensations of my fingers tracing invisible patterns of complex geometry in her soft skin producing small moans of pleasure in the pretty girl.
I’m quite sure she could have let me do that forever, though the embers of her sexuality probably would have driven her crazy after a while. But I as masseur was going to get tired, so after a long while, I leaned down and whispered into her ear: "Turn over, I want to do your front."
While I had been straddling her, I was quite sure she could feel my hard cock pressing on her behind, the raging heat of it coming through my black underwear to reveal my lust for her. Before she turned, she tilted her behind to press up against my erect cock, clearly urging me to use it, to pull her leotard away from her little pussy and slide my hardness inside her.
But before that, I wanted to take full advantage of the incredible creature I had lying on my bed – I had never before been offered a teenage temptress in her leotard like this before, and I was going to make the most of the experience this time.
I raised myself up so that she could easily turn, presenting her athletic form for me front-skywards, her pretty face gazing up at me as I began to touch the front of her legs and her stomach, sweeping my hands over the pale leotard that was semi-transparent in places from the moisture of her workout and her irrepressible arousal.
I avoided moving my hands anywhere near her erogenous zones at first, teasing her more than just a little, but keeping her warm by caressing her firm muscles. Then I edged closer and closer to her small breasts, feeling the slight dampness under her arms and the raw heat of her body under that thin, sheer material.
Her small, hard nipples poking through her leotard seemed to demand attention, so I traced my fingers closer to them, surging over the slight swell of her chest: no longer massaging, but caressing more gently, more tenderly, drawing out her pleasure rather than her tension. At last, my fingers came to her hardened tips, grazing them softly through the slick material, which seemed to do little to reduce the sensations she felt as I touched her there.
She moaned softly as I pinched her little buds, stroking them between thumb and forefinger. And as I touched her there, I lowered my face so that my mouth came into contact with her warm body, pressing gently against her leotard just below her navel to maximise the contact.
I took a deep breath of her fragrant body as she lay there, savouring the musky scent, that slight mustiness from her exercise, the delicate feminine sweetness of this beautiful ballerina. I moved slowly up to kiss her bare skin just above the edge of her leotard, tasting the slight saltiness before slipping down to take her stiff nipples inside my hot mouth one by one, sucking her through her tight outfit.
“Oh Jack, you’re driving me crazy…” she moaned, and I felt her reaching for my cock, but withdrew from her so she could not.
She let out a groan of disappointment, but this noise faded as she felt me drift downwards, running my lips over the smooth material covering her heaving chest, then her flat stomach and then tantalisingly over the gentle rise of her mound, where her ballet costume grew steadily more moist and heady with the spicy scent of her arousal.
“Oh please…” she murmured, all complaints forgotten.
My hands crept down to hold her hips as my lips grazed her pubic mound, then wandered around the periphery of her tender sex. The aroma of her arousal mixed with a little perspiration was intoxicating to me now, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Her leotard was getting increasingly transparent as her body produced moisture, and I could see vague traces and shadows of her pink lips pulled apart as she her stretched legs, trying to encourage me to cut to the chase.
But though I moved my nose and mouth as near as I could to her covered labia, I did not touch it, just inhaled deeply, glorying in the sweet aroma of this tender teen's copious quantities of pussy juices.
When my lips edged over the thin material that covered her moist labia and vagina, she let out a sudden deep moan, the leotard apparently doing nothing to conceal the texture of my tongue as it grazed across her most sensitive area. I pushed the tip of my tongue into the depression between her labia, and though the material prevented deep penetration, there was still that irresistible exotic taste of the tender ballet dancer's arousal.
Increasingly desperate for no-holds-barred contact between her pussy and my eager mouth, Natalie pulled the leotard down over her shoulders, peeling it down her slender chest, urging me to help her remove it. I did help her, though part of me felt sad for ending the beautiful sight of her wearing it, slowly taking the article away from her stomach, her navel, her mound, revealing little pink nipples on her small breasts, erect to their full extent, as well as her glistening vagina, like a delicate little flower, open to be pollinated.
I removed the leotard from my pretty neighbour, gently dragging it down her shapely legs and over her small feet, dropping it casually on the floor. At last, she was laid bare to my gaze, a pretty brunette with small, tender breasts, stiff little nipples and a sprinkling of cocoa curls on her delicate mound, just above her little pink slit.
I crawled onto her, and pressed my hardness against her dripping vagina, feeling her heat through my black cotton underwear. I kissed her mouth, the softest contact of lips on lips, and as we kissed, my hands went to her breasts, focussing on her sensitive tips, squeezing and gently pinching them as her hands went to my head, pulling my mouth to hers. After a while, I broke away - I would have been happy to linger on her sweet kiss for longer, but Natalie had real needs. She was almost clawing at my back to push me to penetrate her.
I kissed my way down the soft skin of her neck. Quietly, she let out a little moan, and my lips reached the velvety flesh of her breasts and the little nubs at their centres. Her skin had a sharp, salty flavour that had come from her earlier exertions, but this didn't stop me from tickling her with my hot, rough tongue, exploring the friction.
I trailed down her stomach, and her fingers brushed through my hair, gently urging me lower down her body. My lips descended first over one hip, then the other, then it was trailing down to the unlined crease of her thigh and along almost to her pussy. The fragrance was wonderful: clean, rich, sweet and creamy. She opened her thighs wider and tried to trap my head between them, but I used both hands to hold them apart as I repositioned myself between her legs, belly down and ready to sample her delights fully.
Her little glistening slit was pink and slightly swollen, fully aroused and desperate for my touch. Her clitoris, fully engorged, protruded cleanly above the petite labia, and I blew softly across the tightly pressed lips making her gasp loudly. Using the tip of my tongue I licked around the tender lips of her fledgling vagina and slowly drew spirals inwards. I pressed my tongue flat against her and licked slowly upwards, provoking a writhing, squirming movement as the strong sensations took over.
When the tip of my tongue caught the underside of her swollen clit, Natalie began to moan loudly, and when I finally flicked over her tiny trigger, she whined helplessly and trembled as a strong climax blossomed within her. She came vigorously, grinding her burning vagina against my mouth, pulling my head into her soaking crotch as the sensations pulsed through her. I didn't loosen up from her yet, maximising the sensations running through her young body by reaching round to hold her soft behind and pull her hips up to my mouth.
I wanted more: withdrawing my hands from under her little behind and placing one finger at the entrance of her vagina. Slowly, carefully, I pried open her lips and found the tiny opening. She was unbelievably wet, and as I continued to lick her, lapping up her exquisite nectar, I rotated my hand and eased a finger inside her, palm up. Her pussy clenched on my finger and she emitted a soft whine of pure pleasure and pushed her hips down onto my digit. As she gyrated her hips, I moved the fingertip inside her and put his other hand on her abdomen, just above her little mound.
I massaged that most sensitive area inside her, and she began to yelp like an animal in distress as uncontrollable spasms of pleasure wracked her small body.
Not long after I starting doing this, she stopped me, saying urgently: “Fuck me, Jack, fuck me right now or I’ll die.”
And she turned over, propping herself up on her hands and knees to present that cute little behind for me. I didn’t hesitate more than the time it took to appreciate this gorgeous ballerina’s pert butt, virtually tearing off my underwear and kneeling up behind her to touch my hard cock to the entrance of her smouldering pussy.
Her moans turned almost to screams as I pushed my weight against her, feeling that satisfying pop of penetration then a glorious squeeze of my cock as it stretched her tight pussy walls to glide inside and fill her.
It wasn’t going to be long until her next orgasm, but after indulging in this tight ballet dancer’s body as I had, I was pretty close to coming myself.