His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, uneven thud that matched the relentless rhythm of Otis's hand working him under the loose fabric of his gym shorts.
He had to actively try not to moan, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, the sound building in his throat like a dam ready to burst.
The teacher's fingers were magic, warm, confident, calloused just enough from years of demonstrating stretches and drills to create the perfect friction as they slid up and down the thick, veiny length of Kota's new cock. Each slow, deliberate stroke pulled the foreskin back over the swollen head with a wet, obscene little schlick, then pushed it forward again, thumb circling the leaking slit to smear the steady drip of pre-cum that had already soaked through the front of the shorts in a dark, spreading patch.
Otis leaned in closer, his light brown hair brushing Kota's knee, voice low and calm like he was still guiding a meditation instead of jerking him off in front of twenty oblivious seniors
. "Back in high school I was the town's favorite for stress relieving," he murmured, fingers tightening just right at the base on every downstroke, squeezing the heavy balls with a gentle roll that made Kota's toes curl against the mat.
"Kids would line up after practice, begging for a quick session in the locker room. I was way more hippie-like in my twenties—about fifteen years ago now—so I did a lot of hard substances. Mostly mushrooms, the odd ecstasy or three. Helped me stay loose, stay present. Made everything feel… connected."
Kota's eyes snapped open for half a second, shock cutting through the haze of pleasure like cold water. Fifteen years ago? His 20s were fifteen years ago? The math hit him like a punch to the gut. Otis looked barely older than the seniors sitting around them, smooth skin, bright eyes, that perpetual gentle smile that made him seem eternally youthful. Kota's voice came out a strained whisper, barely audible over the soft breathing of the class. "How old are you?"
Otis blushed, a soft pink blooming across his cheeks as his hand never stopped its steady, expert rhythm—up, twist, down, squeeze, the wet schlick-schlick-schlick growing louder in Kota's ears no matter how hard he tried to stay silent.
"I'm a geezer now," he admitted with a shy little laugh that vibrated against Kota's thigh. "Turned 35 two months ago."
Kota's breath hitched sharply, the shock mixing with the overwhelming pleasure as Otis stroked faster, fingers gliding slick over the thickened shaft, thumb pressing perfectly into the sensitive spot just under the head.
"You don't look a day over 23," Kota managed, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, voice cracking with raw honesty and the building pressure low in his gut.
Otis's blush deepened, ears turning pink as he leaned in even closer, breath warm against the tented fabric.
"You're being too much with the flirting, Kota," he whispered, but his hand betrayed him, stroking faster now, the wet sounds turning filthier, more urgent as pre-cum flowed freely, soaking Otis's palm and making every glide smoother, hotter, tighter.
Kota could barely hear anything else—the meditation breathing of the class faded to a distant hum, the overhead lights blurring into soft halos. The technique was crazy. Insane. From a dry handjob this was already better than all the sex he had ever had so far, better than Riley's desperate throat, better than Dennis's greedy hole, better than Theo's fluttering submission or Austin's plush little ass bent over the kitchen island. Fuck… he was about to—about to—
Otis felt it immediately, the way Kota's cock swelled thicker in his grip, the heavy balls drawing up tight. He calmed him down with a soft shush, free hand pressing gently on Kota's thigh.
"Easy… breathe with me." Then he leaned down, lips parting as he pressed them to the leaking tip through the soaked fabric, sucking gently while his hand kept stroking, the wet heat of his mouth seeping through the thin shorts like a promise. The dual sensation—mouth sucking, hand pumping—pushed Kota right over the edge.
He came hard, teeth sunk into his lower lip to keep any sound from escaping, thick ropes pulsing out in heavy, endless spurts that flooded the inside of his shorts and soaked Otis's waiting mouth through the fabric. Otis drank it all, soft little moans vibrating against Kota's cock as he sucked and swallowed every drop, the teacher's throat working visibly while his eyes fluttered in quiet bliss. When the last heavy pulse faded, Otis pulled back with a gentle kiss pressed right to the sensitive head through the drenched shorts, lips lingering for a long second like a reward.
"Good boy," Otis whispered, voice warm and proud, patting Kota's thigh softly.
"Cumming so silently for me. You did a good job."
He gave the softening cock one last affectionate kiss , then sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like nothing had happened, that calm, hippie smile returning as if he had simply adjusted someone's posture.
Kota liked the attention, craved it, even—the praise settling warm and heavy in his chest like a drug he didn't know he needed. He wanted more, hips twitching forward instinctively, but Otis shook his head gently, eyes soft but firm.
"That should hold you over for now. You need to focus. Breathe. Let the energy settle."
Kota nodded, dazed and spent, the aftershocks still tingling through his body as he closed his eyes again and forced himself back into the criss-cross pose.
The gym fell back into its meditative quiet, the soft breathing of the seniors surrounding him once more, while Otis moved away on silent feet to continue guiding the class. Kota sat there, heart still racing, the warm, sticky mess cooling inside his shorts, the new impossible size of his cock finally softening but still feeling heavier than ever against his thigh.
The day had barely started, and already the line between control and chaos felt thinner than the damp fabric clinging to his skin. He breathed in deep, trying to match the calm rhythm Otis had set for everyone else, but the memory of that soft, knowing kiss and the whispered "good boy" kept looping in his head, pulling him right back to the edge even as he forced his body to stay still. The meditation stretched on, the gym lights humming overhead, the faint scent of sweat and rubber mixing with the lingering musk of what had just happened, and Kota sat there pretending everything was normal while his body betrayed him in the quietest, most dangerous way possible.