Ballet Boys E-Book

Pierre d&apos, Amour

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

»I think that you're good enough to meet the ballerinas for the battle of the sexes, boys, please don't disappoint me in front of my wife!«, our ballet teacher Monsieur Dubois said with pride and sent us to lunch. At the long kitchen table the six sexy girls opposite from us boys had all a dangerous glint in their eyes: they were surely ready for the attack too!

Leseprobe

Pierre d'Amour

Ballet Boys

The Battle of the Sexes

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Ballet Boys

Ballet Boys

by Pierre d'Amour

BookRix Edition 2016

Copyright by Amé

Pierre d'Amour:

BALLET BOYS

The Battle of the Sexes!

Cover Illustration from Pinterest

with no Copyright attached!

1 - The Journey

The Journey

»Philippe«, my mother said to me one evening after school, »you are a clever boy and a pretty one too, but you have a special gift, which makes you special: you have inherited the grace and the flexibility of your father!« She was right: I was slim and my slender legs seemed to reach all the way up to my neck - I certainly had the figure of a ballet dancer! My father had been a dancer too and therefor he was hardly at home, he was constantly traveling the wide world with his troupe and I was jealous of his freedom. Since his deadly car accident near Paris two years ago my mother had changed from a frustrated housewife into a responsible woman - she had never taken another lover, she lavished all her love on me! And for sure she wanted only the best for me: she wanted more from me as to end up as an accountant or a journalist - she had a precise vision, and she saw me already on the big stage of the royal ballet in the lead role!

Of course she had already made inquiries and found out, that there was still a vacancy at the prestigious ballet school at Clairefontaine in the Provence, and that Monsieur Dubois was delighted to train the son of a professional dancer, which he had seen on stage himself, as he had told my mother on the phone. The summer holidays were coming up soon and I had to make a decision, I didn't want to spend the six weeks at home and I loved the Provence in summer: the fragrant perfume of lavender in the air and the sprawling vineyards all around - and just the thought of young ballet girls in tight leotards and stiff tutu skirts made me nervous! My sexual explorations in the past had mostly ended with a kiss on the cheek or a slap in the face, of course all the girls at my school loved me but they seemingly didn't like such skinny boys like me very much - the little ballerinas at Clairefontaine would surely have a different taste, and as longer as I thought about it I grew more and more determined to find out . . .

It was a long trip from Orleans down to Avignon and Mum had put me on the night train to arrive there in the morning fresh and early - the man sitting next to me on the aisle seat had curly black hair and a cute mustache, he asked me in Spanish if I was speaking Spanish but I just shook my head, and from there on the Spaniard just smiled at me, and he smiled at me until I finally smiled back! I didn't like the way he stared at my naked knees: I should have put some long pants on for the train trip, the air conditioning system worked well and I grew cold - luckily there was a woolen blanket up in the overhead rack to cover myself up with! All my efforts to fall asleep were in vain with a Spanish hand on the blanket over my knees, and when I didn't react to the touch and was pretending to be asleep the hand grew bolder and slipped under the woolen cover to touch my knee in secrecy - the feeling wasn't annoying or disturbing at all: I liked to be touched, and if the man was really a knee fetishist he would soon be satisfied!

But the hand crept up my naked thigh to the hem of my summer shorts leaving a tickling track of excitement on my skin, and again I missed the chance for a protest, and when the hand slipped into the leg of the shorts and suddenly cupped my balls in my underpants it was definitely too late: my dickel was aroused and was stretching my panties, and he was caught in the firm grip of a stranger! Then the hand pulled back out of my shorts and slipped under my shirt to caress my naked belly and to pinch both of my nipples hard - a sweet little torture which sent a shockwave of lust right down into my crotch. The button on my shorts popped open and the zipper rattled down - fresh air streamed into the steamy premise and my hot dickel was plucked out of my undies to take a breath. I had masturbated before in bed at night, but this wad different: I felt like paralised or restrained by my pretense of sleeping and my stiff passivity enhanced the feeling and the pleasure to a new level, which I hadn't experienced before!

And I was actually longing for an orgasm, knowing that this pleasure would create a huge mess in my pants, but the stranger wasn't in a hurry: bit by bit he patiently inched my shorts down to my knees and then my panties too - I wasn't helping him with this difficult task but I enjoyed every minute of it! I suddenly remembered the secret stares of the older boys at school at my crotch and their furtive winks and smiles - maybe I was more attractive to males, which would certainly explain my failure to find a girlfriend! Now my midnight lover had full access to my genitals and he touched me everywhere, he massaged my dickel with expertise to the point of no return, and only in the very last moment he pulled the blanket off me to keep it clean - I shot my sperm straight up in the air with a terrible grunt and sunk satisfied back into my soft seat. Luckily at Limoge the cheeky Spaniard disembarked from the train and I found the opportunity to clean myself up with my handkerchief, to pull my pants up and to find some sleep . . .

The train station in Avignon was a busy place already early in the morning but I found my way to the bus terminals easily. On the minibus to Pujaut and Clairefontaine I sat next to a young boy just a bit older than me, he had a polished English accent and was looking well bred and extremely sophisticated. »You're going to the ballet school as well?«, was his first question which I answered with a nod - »I dearly love blondes, and you are cute - don't worry, my friend, I will look well after you!«, he exclaimed with a noble chuckle and again I had a hand on my naked knee, exploring the skin of my thigh without inhibition. He said his name was Charles, and that had come all the way from Cambridge to study ballet with the Master, Mister Dubois! He was actually a pretty boy himself despite his superior attitude, his greased-back hair and his snobby nose, and I didn't want to make enemies before school had even started, and so I let him do what he had to do - and when Charles sensed my growing arousal he just chuckled again!

Clairefontaine was a medieval village in an ancient pine forest, once a fortified bastide to protect its inhabitants from being pillaged constantly during the centuries of unrest and war. The huge manor was a sturdy old building painted in a healthy pumpkin-colour and decorated with sky-blue window shutters, the air was sweet out here in the countryside and the lovebirds were singing in the trees. Madame Dubois was awaiting us at the main door and warmly welcomed us in, she was a feisty woman with mischievous eyes and rather large bosom for a ballet teacher - but as far as I knew, she was in charge of the dancing girls! Her smile was generous and she said: »As I can see, you both are already well acquainted with each other and I presume that you could share a room together without a problem - number three on the third floor is prepared for you: please refresh yourselves and have a good look around the place, Gentlemen - and after the lunch at noon Monsieur André is awaiting you in the boy's dance studio for an examination!«