Kota sat through the remaining twenty-five minutes of meditation like a statue carved from pure tension, every muscle locked in the criss-cross pose while his mind raced in chaotic circles.
The gym floor felt colder now, the polished wood pressing against his bare thighs and sending faint chills up his spine that did nothing to cool the heat still simmering low in his gut.
Otis had moved on to the far side of the room, guiding the seniors through slow, breathing exercises with that same calm, hippie-soft voice, but Kota could still feel the ghost of those warm fingers wrapped around his cock, the slick drag of the teacher's palm, the gentle suction of lips through the soaked fabric that had milked him dry without a single sound escaping his own throat. His gym shorts clung damp and sticky to his skin, the dark wet spot at the front cooling into an uncomfortable crust that rubbed against the new, heavier length every time he shifted even an inch. The seniors around him breathed in unison, deep, rhythmic inhales and slow exhales that filled the cavernous space like a collective sigh—but Kota's own breath came shorter, sharper, the aftershocks of that secret handjob still tingling through his balls and up his spine. He kept his eyes shut tight, praying the class would end before anyone noticed the way his cock refused to fully soften, the thick outline still pressing obscenely against the thin gray fabric like it had a mind of its own.
Finally the clock hit the mark. Otis clapped his hands once, the sound gentle but final. "Great job today, everyone. Nice and calm. Hit the showers if you want, or just head out. See you tomorrow—keep that energy flowing."
The seniors unfolded themselves with relieved groans and scattered murmurs, sneakers squeaking across the mats as they grabbed water bottles and towels and funneled toward the changing room doors. Kota waited until the last of them had filed out before he stood, legs unsteady, the sticky mess in his shorts shifting with every step as he followed the crowd back into the locker area.
The changing room was a whirlwind of noise and motion, lockers slamming, zippers rasping, voices overlapping in tired complaints about the "pointless meditation" and jokes about how Otis always made everything feel like a yoga retreat.
Kota moved through it on autopilot, stripping off his damp shirt and shorts in the far corner where the light was dimmer, his naked body prickling with goosebumps under the cool draft from the vents. He didn't bother with a towel yet.
He just needed to wash his cock, clean the evidence, rinse away the sticky remnants of Otis's quiet magic before the day got any weirder. Barefoot and completely naked, he padded toward the shower room, the tiled floor cold and slightly gritty under his soles, the air growing thicker and warmer with steam the closer he got.
The shower room was mostly empty, only a few stalls running with the hiss of water and the occasional low grunt of someone rinsing off. Kota stepped under the first open showerhead, twisting the knob until hot water blasted down in a punishing spray. He let it pound against his shoulders first, then tilted his head back and let it cascade over his chest, down his stomach, finally reaching the heavy length between his legs. His hand moved automatically, soaping up the thick shaft, fingers sliding over the new girth that still felt foreign, the veins more pronounced, the head fuller even when soft. The water sluiced away the dried cum and lube, but the ache of need lingered, a low throb that refused to fade completely.
Then he heard it, soft moans drifting from the far end of the shower room, muffled but unmistakable, coming from the last stall in the row.
The sound was wet and rhythmic, layered with the slap of skin and the faint gurgle of water. Kota's pulse jumped.
He turned the shower off, water still dripping from his naked body, and moved quietly down the row, bare feet silent on the wet tiles. The moans grew louder the closer he got, broken little gasps and whimpers mixing with the steady hiss of a running showerhead.
He stopped at the entrance to the last stall and peeked around the corner.
Inside, the two handsy femboys from two days ago, the same pair who couldn't keep their bodies off each other during the previous gym class—were going at it with Ollie right in the middle. The smaller of the two femboys was on his knees in front of Ollie, lips wrapped tight around the boy's tiny nub, sucking with sloppy, eager bobs that made wet, filthy slurping sounds echo off the tiled walls.
The other femboy knelt behind Ollie, face buried deep between those plump cheeks, tongue working loud and messy as he ate his ass out with long, wet swirling licks that had Ollie's legs trembling. Ollie himself stood facing the wall, hands braced on the slick tiles, back arched, biting his lower lip hard to hold in a big moan that threatened to spill out anyway. His short black hair was plastered to his forehead with water and sweat, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, body rocking between the dual assault of mouth on his cocklet and tongue in his hole.
The three of them were completely lost in it, steam curling around their naked bodies, water cascading over smooth skin and jiggling asses, the air thick with the scent of soap, sweat, and raw arousal.
Kota stood there completely naked, water still dripping from his own body onto the floor in soft plops, and felt his cock surge back to full hardness in seconds.
The sight of all three asses, plump, soft, perfectly presented in the steamy light, hit him like a drug. The two femboys' cheeks were round and bouncy, spreading wide as they worked Ollie over, while Ollie's own ass flexed and rippled with every eager push back onto the tongue buried inside him. Kota's new, thicker length throbbed heavily against his thigh, the head already leaking fresh pre-cum that mixed with the shower water still clinging to his skin.
He wasn't letting this opportunity go to waste.
Not after the day he had already survived, not with the new size still humming with untapped power between his legs, not with three perfect, eager sluts right there in front of him, completely unaware and lost in their own pleasure.
His hand twitched at his side, fingers curling as he took one silent step closer, the steam swirling around his naked frame like it was welcoming him into the scene, the moans and wet sounds pulling him forward like a current he had no intention of fighting.
The changing room outside had gone quiet, the rest of the class already gone, leaving just the four of them in this steamy, private corner of the showers where anything could happen next.
Kota's breath came slow and deep, eyes locked on the three jiggling asses, his cock standing proud and ready, the weight of the moment settling heavy and electric in the air between them.