The heavy door closed smoothly behind him. At the click of the latch, Mateo felt trapped, even though he'd shut the door himself. There was a lump in his throat. He had a gut feeling he'd leave this place a little different from how he'd entered.
A little more firmly under the control of his instructor.
Their encounter by the lockers had become a regular thing. It was what Kalista wanted and he couldn't seem to deny her: after every class, he'd follow her to the showers. She didn't need to hold his hand like she had the first time. She just walked confidently down the hall, her perfect ass swaying like a hypnotist's pendulum, and Mateo followed helplessly. He plunged even deeper into mindless need for her when they reached the change room and her clothes came off. Then everything was a hot wet haze of soaked flesh and her commanding voice and his unthinking compliance.
After a few weeks of that, Kalista must have judged him well-trained enough to see her outside the gym. His ongoing loss of control should have terrified him. But Mateo felt only deep, giddy excitement at her approval.
She met him in the front hall, wearing a pair of low-heeled slippers and a shimmering floral-patterned robe cinched tight around her waist, the hem at her knees. The sight of even her half-bare legs, powerful calf muscles flexed by the arch of her heels, gave Mateo a pang of arousal. He craved the sight of her thighs, and more.
He would soon get it. Kalista held out two bottles of sparkling water, their sides dripping with condensation.
"Take these," she said. He stepped towards her without thinking about it, and her eyes twinkled. "Eager. Take your shoes off first."
Mateo blinked and felt his face get hot as his predicament grew clearer. She'd invited him to her home, had dressed to entice him, knew exactly how successful she was. He felt a flush of embarrassment and wished he'd worn jeans instead of his usual sweats, if only because they might better conceal his erection. Did that matter anymore? He couldn't keep his cool around Kalista for even a minute, and she wanted it that way.
He stepped out of his shoes, leaving them where they were, and took the bottled water. Mateo tried to approach Kalista confidently for once; like a lover, an equal. But once he was close enough to inhale her scent, and she looked up at him with her dazzling eyes, his heart started racing. He couldn't think of anything clever to say. He couldn't think of anything to say at all.
Kalista stepped backwards slowly, heels clicking on the tile floor. Never breaking eye contact, she pulled the silk tie from around her waist and, with a sinuous motion of her shoulders, the robe slid to the floor. Mateo forgot about how flustered he felt. He forgot everything but the sight of her perfect body.
His eyes came to rest automatically on the dark triangle of hair between her thighs. He remembered the incredible, all-consuming feeling of being held there, the world outside nonexistent, his life reduced to pleasuring Kalista with his mouth. Even his powerful hands had been useless--she'd told him to keep them behind his back. She didn't want his hands just then, so they didn't matter. Nothing mattered but following her instructions, doing exactly what she said because it would please her so deeply. And, oh, the way her whole body quivered when he pleased her, the way she bucked her pussy against his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him in like she couldn't get enough of him, the sounds she made...
The sound of her voice. Mateo realized she'd been speaking and he'd just been standing there in a daydream, staring through her bush into his memories of going down on her in the gym. He should have felt a fresh surge of embarrassment at his distraction, but her body blanked his every attempt to think.
"Get on your knees," Kalista told him. Mateo obeyed.
"Follow," she said, and turned to the staircase behind her. She mounted the first step, looking back to see Mateo fixate helplessly on her legs, on her round ass cocked to one side, hamstring flexed in mid-step. His cock throbbed, robbing him of what little free will he had left.
On his knees, Mateo shifted the water bottles into his left hand so his right was free. He crawled towards the stairs. Clambering up behind her was awkward, but the discomfort and humiliation were as tightly muzzled as the rest of his mind. His entire world narrowed to the sight of Kalista's legs, her ass, her sex, swaying, moving, fascinating. His lust for her took over completely, and Mateo could no more stand up and run from the house than he could climb out the window on the upstairs landing and fly.
Kalista led him past the window into a bedroom. There were more rooms on the upper floor, but Mateo didn't notice--he couldn't even remember what colour the walls were. There was only Kalista.
But there wasn't only Kalista: someone else was in the bedroom, kneeling naked on the bed, her hand between her legs. Dominique's body glistened with sweat and trembled as she jilled off, whimpering. It was a shock for Mateo to see her there like that, and yet, somehow, not surprising. The dazed, desperate look on his friend's face? He must look like that, himself.
As Dominique saw Kalista walk in, her eyes widened and she whimpered louder. But she didn't stop what she was doing. Mateo understood she couldn't stop. Dominique was following Kalista's instructions, and that was correct. His cock throbbed in sympathy. He wished he was on the bed with her, both of them pleasuring themselves just because their instructor told them to.
Both of them linking their sexual desire even more deeply with the sight of Kalista's perfect body. It would be so hot if she instructed them to do that.
