Teaching Daughter Self Esteem

A couple of days later I stopped off after work at the dance studio where Katie took her lessons. I hadn't been there in almost two years, ever since Katie asked Elaine and me to stop coming to her lessons and recitals. We had respected our daughter's privacy, and so my contact with the dance instructor, Madame Therese, had dwindled to little more than sending her regular tuition checks along with an occasional phone call to see how Katie was doing.

When I neared the instructor's business office, I could hear grunting and rustling from the other side of the door. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what was going on inside.

"Oh, fuck! You . . ." came a muffled exclamation. A man, it seemed.

It was followed by a woman's voice saying, "Yes! Give it to . . .!" Then came more rustling, and a small clatter as something apparently was knocked to the floor. Then more muffled grunting and exclamations.

It was none of my business who Madame Therese had sex with, and it certainly wasn't exciting to listen at the door to whatever they were doing. So I spent the next ten minutes in the waiting room idly perusing months-old dance magazines. Every once in a while I got up to stretch my legs and wandered around the room looking at pictures of young girls in group portraits, the same sort of pictures that one sees for youth soccer teams and the like. Then I strolled back to the plastic chair and looked through some old American Dance Today magazines.

After about fifteen minutes the clattering and half-heard swearing and grunting died down. The door opened and a man dressed in a business suit came out, casually tightening the knot on his tie while trying to balance his computer case under his arm. When he saw me sitting in the waiting room with a magazine on my lap, he did a quick double-take of surprise, but then looked directly at me, smirking and shrugging at the same time in an "aw shucks, ya caught me" gesture. He clearly was not very embarrassed. He waved a silent goodbye to me as he walked toward the glass door that fronted on the street.

I waited a few seconds for propriety's sake, then walked up to the half-open door and knocked on the door jamb to announce my presence. Madame Therese was on her knees with her back to me, in the midst of picking up some stuff that had fallen off her desk. From behind I could see an extremely attractive, perfectly toned ass clad in a form-fitting body stocking that stretched from her waist to her upper calves. There was not so much as a gram of cellulite on her ass and thighs. She turned and looked up at me in surprise.

"Oh!" she said. "Katie's father! I wasn't expecting you."

"I should have called before coming."

"I'm sorry that you had to come in and see . . ." She hurriedly tied her hair back and knotted it in a bun on the back of her head. The few stray hairs that she missed hung loose in testament to her being flustered by my arrival. The just-fucked look that resulted looked fantastic on her long, slim graceful dancer's frame.

I held up open palms to her. "No apology is necessary. We're all adults here. How you spend your free time is your affair. I'm the one who should apologize for arriving unannounced."

"Thanks. I appreciate your attitude. What can I do for you?" She gestured toward the couch.

I sat down. "Well, it's about Katie. My wife and I have been working with her about her shyness and becoming more outgoing. In the past, we've had an understanding with you that she didn't like to be part of your recitals, but I was thinking maybe we could change that. I'd like for her to perform in public again."

The dance instructor frowned. "I wish you'd come to me a month ago," she said. "We've giving a recital next week, but we're too far into rehearsals for Katie to take even a small part and be ready in time for the performance."

She walked around her desk so that she stood facing me and leaned backward, propping her ass casually against the desk while she continued, "I'd love to see Katie take a more active role in the class. She's a superb dancer. And I'm glad to hear that you and your wife are making progress in bringing her out of her shell. But I want any increased participation on her part to be a success – I'd hate for her to enter rehearsals at the last minute, then be even more self-conscious because of lack of preparation the day of the performance."

"I understand," I said. "You're making a good point. Maybe next time." I started to get up to leave.

"Wait a minute," Therese said. "Your coming a few minutes ago at such a . . . revealing . . . moment brings up another issue." She made a show of bringing delicate fingers up to her hair to tuck the loose strands behind her ear, then she brought her index finger down the middle of her chest. The effect was that she drew my attention to her breasts. "There's an advanced class that some of my older girls attend. It's only open to the best dancers, and I only admit girls who are eighteen and over."

"Eighteen and over?" I asked, mystified. I wondered what age would have to do with dance skills.

"Well, as you said, 'We're all adults here.' This is a special class for my adult students, and it involves adult activities. The parents play a part in the instruction." Therese let one hand rest casually on her own crotch as if by accident, while the other hand scratched at an itch just below one of her breasts.

"The parents?" I asked.

"Actually, I meant to say 'the fathers'. All of the students in my advanced class live with single fathers. The dads play a special role not only in their own daughters' instruction, but in the instruction of all the other girls as well. Are you interested?"

Could she possibly mean what I thought she meant? My cock was getting harder by the second. I squirmed slightly in my seat to find a more comfortable position. "You do know that I'm married," I said. "But how exactly does this work?"

Therese smiled and sat next to me on the couch. She put her hand on my leg and began to trace little curves on my thigh using the long fingernail on her index finger. "It's all completely consensual," she explained. "No one is allowed in the class unless the other girls in the class agree to both their fellow student AND the student's father. But I think both you and Katie would get their approval."

Her hand moved up to my crotch and she began brazenly caressing my cock and balls. "Each week," she went on, "the girls have a regular dance lesson. At the end of the lesson each goes home with a different girl's father for dinner and to spend the night."

She reached forward with both hands and started undoing my belt and zipper, then fished out my hardening cock. "I can see that you're intrigued by the lesson plan." Jacking my cock up and down, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Would you like to instruct a few young dancers? Teach them to suck cock just right? Teach them to get fucked? Teach them to dance on your pole? I can assure you, these are my best students. Very fast learners. Very limber, beautiful young girls. And they love being taught by grownups." She bent down and plunged her mouth down on my cock. She lifted her mouth off my cock long enough to add, "Especially grownups with big dicks." Then she lowered her head back onto my hard cock.

Therese sucked me for a couple of minutes while I leaned back in bliss, stroking her hair with one hand and her amazingly perfect ass with the other. My mind was overwhelmed with images of fucking one tight young teenager after another, though a part of me worried where my wife was supposed to fit in with such a scenario. I also thought about the fact that Katie was a virgin. Even if I "did something" about her virginity – that is, even if I fucked her despite my promise to my wife – I nevertheless felt uncomfortable about letting other men have access to her. Still, Therese's expert mouth on my cock made any such misgivings seem like mere fantasies, whereas the reality was that I was sitting in an office getting a fantastic blowjob from a woman who wanted to give me more teenage pussy than I had ever dreamt of.

"Let me give you a taste of the sort of lessons that we give our best girls," Therese said. She stood and within a couple of seconds had stripped off her leotards, revealing perfect B-cup breasts, a slim, toned ass and a completely shaved pussy.

"Naturally," she said as she positioned herself over my rod, "our lessons cover the full range of modern dance movements, and I pride myself on the versatility of my students. There is NO compromise in the quality of instruction."

She gave a satisfied sigh as she lowered herself onto my cock. "Nice cock," she said. "Nice fat cock." She arched her back, displaying her perfect dancer's posture as she rode up and down tirelessly, thrusting her lovely tits proudly in my face.

She continued her sales pitch even as she rode my dick: "In addition, the girls each practice toning routines, thus ensuring that even though they get exercised – oh, Fuck yeah, they get exercised over and over by all their Daddies! – Don't be shy, just pound my ass! – But even though they get so much – so fucking much! – exercise, thanks to the – Uhh! – toning routines, their bodies – Uhh! – are just as tight and supple as the first time they were exercised! Exercise me harder!"

"Are you – Oh! Oh God! – saying they're as tight as virgins?"

Therese rode up and down on my rod frantically. She herself was so tight inside that I felt as if I could sense every ridge inside her vagina as she rose all the way up the entire length of my long shaft supported by her strong, toned thighs, then rapidly dropped down again. "Tight!" she screamed. "We're all so fucking tight! Tight for our Daddies!"

She stretched her arms straight up in the air with fingers reaching upward. She began corkscrewing her pelvis while flexing her vaginal muscles, demonstrating in the most lewd manner possible the training that she was giving her eighteen and nineteen year old female students. The twisting of her lower body was matched by an opposite twisting of her upper torso, which meant that her tits were slapping me up and down and side to side in the face as she rose and fell on my cock. Her hands and fingers shook and swayed in the air above her head. Meanwhile, I could feel the flexing of her vaginal and abdominal muscles in a traveling pulse up the length of my shaft. This horny ballerina was literally dancing on my dick.

"This is a very exclusive class!" she continued. "I test every Daddy to make sure he's good enough for my girls! Give me that big dick and prove you're good enough to fuck thirteen girls!" She put her hands on my shoulders, arched her spine and threw her head back, grunting in orgasm.

Suddenly, though, she stopped. She lifted her body off of my hard dick and said, "I'm really sorry to do this to you. Believe me, I'm no pricktease. But my special class is meeting in a couple of minutes, and I have to be there for my girls. It's your own fault, really, for showing up just before class starts." She jacked my cock a few times while she spoke. "The class takes an hour. Why don't you go run an errand or something and come back at six? After you see the students and their fathers, I'm sure you'll want Katie to join the class." She gave one last slurp on my cock and stood up.

And then she was gone. She jumped up from the couch, daintily dabbed a handkerchief to blot up the slobber on her chin and the lubrication around her pussy, then she rapidly pulled on her leotard. The next thing I knew she was out the door, leaving me literally with my dick in my hand, wondering what hit me.

I spent forty-five minutes buying groceries – eggs, milk and coffee for the next morning – and arrived back at the dance studio a few minutes before the lesson was over. Several adult men were milling around the hallway, sitting on the waiting room chairs or leaning against the wall. I recognized one of the men leaning casually against the wall as the fellow I'd seen coming out of Madame Therese's office earlier that afternoon. He noticed me from across the room and nodded a silent greeting, then went back to his texting. I was tempted to go over and talk to him, but what in the world would I say? Several of the other men were reading the old dance magazines that Madame Therese kept lying around, while others were texting or checking their email. A couple of guys sat in plastic waiting room chairs talking about football. All in all, I felt about as much tension in the air as I'd experience at a bus stop.

Finally the double doors opened. Madame Therese caught my eye briefly as she allowed the men into the practice room, but she appeared preoccupied with greeting the other fathers as they entered.

Inside the room was a typical dance studio: polished wood floors and walls lined floor to ceiling with mirrors to help the students watch their own moves and those of the teacher while they practiced their dance movements. The men filed in and spread out along the wall nearest the door, while the young women were on the other side of the room packing away their gear and, in some cases, putting wraparound skirts on over their leotards.

They were stunning, every single one of them. Nearly all had what I would call "dancers' bodies" – slim, small to medium size breasts, well toned bodies. Several were much shorter than average teenage girls, though there were a number of taller girls and even a couple who were tall enough and slim enough to be models. Most had their hair tied back to be out of the way while dancing, though a few of the dozen or so girls had already loosened their head bands, letting long hair – some brunette, a few blondes and one freckle-faced, coppery-haired redhead – loose.

At first it seemed that the girls were taking a matter-of-fact approach to the men's arrival. One girl went straight to an older man and handed him her gym bag to carry, then kissed him daintily on the cheek and took his hand to leave. Another, though, met her "Daddy" by walking up to him and giving him a soulful kiss. A moment later, I saw that several girls were approaching the men and kissing them hello.

Then I noticed several girls hanging back at the far end of the room opposite the door. Four of the most petite girls in the group looked at each other, giving nonverbal signals, then suddenly they broke into what looked like a choreographed run toward the opposite wall where the men were standing.

"DADDY!" they cried in unison. In a couple of seconds they reached the far wall. Simultaneously, all four leapt into the arms of a different man. Each girl wrapped her arms around her man's neck and wrapped her legs around his pelvis.

The four men instinctively grabbed the girls' asses to support them with their arms crooked under the girls' legs. In an instant, the four young girls were bouncing up and down in unison in the men's arms and squealing, "Daddy Daddy Daddy!" Then they started giggling.

Everyone in the room began laughing, the men holding the nubile teens most of all. Several men standing along the side and greeting their own dates for the night applauded as they laughed. The girls' asses began jackhammering up and down in the men's hands. Laughing happily, the men held the young girls up and began bouncing them up and down, pantomiming fucking them for the entire crowd to watch and enjoy.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I whispered to myself.

It was an incredible sight, more arousing than anything I'd seen or even heard of in any performance anywhere. These hot young dancers were delighting in the control they had over their limber bodies, while the older men took intense joy in the fact that these slim girls were so light that the men could, and did, bounce them in their arms like sexy, willing playthings.

One large man planted his feet wide apart in the middle of the dance floor, laughing in sexual triumph while he put his whole pelvis and torso into the act of swinging his copper-haired girl in the air and bringing her back down over and over onto his crotch. He was tall, dwarfing the tiny little red-haired dancer whom he held in his arms and whose body he manipulated like a gorgeous, sexy plaything. The lithe little redhead herself whooped and squealed like a cowgirl as he bounced her up and down on his hard-on, her long curly red hair flying wildly up, down and in all directions as she rode her man.

Two other men, meanwhile, paraded their girls around the room for all to see. While the men circled the room supporting their girls' asses, they also grinned happily at all the other men in the room, showing off their good fortune at having such prize teenage fucktoys. Meanwhile the girls held themselves up easily by their arms around the men's necks and their legs supported by the men's arms, their feet and toes pointing outward. They bounced happily on the men's bulges, giggling and chanting over and over, "Daddy Daddy Daddy!! Hee hee hee!! Daddy Daddy Daddy!!" The men looked like they were passing into states of horny bliss.

When I looked for the fourth couple, I saw that he had staggered backward against the mirror. He and his girl were furiously kissing each other, while he continued to knead her ass and she frantically humped him while supported in his arms.

I knew at that moment that I had to join this club. I pictured holding that limber little redhead by the ass, impaling her on my hard dick and putting her happy, compliant sexiness on display the way the other man did, only in my case there would be no cloth between us to impede my penetrating her perfect little pussy over and over. I wanted her long, curly red hair to sway around us like a fiery cloud of lust while she rode my cock and screamed for more. I wanted that sexy little redheaded pixie to gyrate crazily on my pole while a roomful of men and horny teens watched and applauded.

Then my imagined future scenario morphed, and I saw the face of first one beautiful teenage girl in my arms impaled on my dick, then another and another. The rest of the young dancers stood in a circle around us cheering while I held one after another of them and proudly fucked them standing up.

Finally my vision of the future took a new form, and I was alone in the room full of mirrors with Katie in my arms, her perfect ass molded to my hands supporting her. In my mind's eye Katie's image was reflected endlessly in the mirrored room with her hands around my neck and her legs hooked over my arms, her pale blonde hair and her huge 32F tits bouncing deliciously, her voluptuous body pistoning happily up and down on my cock while I held her ass. My daughter needed Daddy meat, and I needed to give it to her.

I hardly noticed that while these few couples put on their pornographic display, most of the other couples quietly paired off and left together. Madame Therese came to my side and whispered to me, "It's usually a great deal more sedate than this. There are always a few young ladies who like to put on a show – especially when they know they have a new audience, such as yourself."

"How do they decide who to go with?" I asked.

"They don't," Therese answered. "I don't like people to play favorites – it engenders jealousy. So we have a regular rotation. But as I said before, the girls have absolute veto power over whether to allow a new student and her father into the class." She squeezed my hard cock briefly for emphasis and added, "You've passed the preliminary screening."

She handed me a flyer folded in three parts and her voice, while still sweet, assumed a more businesslike tone. "Here's a brochure on the class schedules, curriculum and rates," she said. "In addition to anything else you might be thinking, this IS a legitimate class for advanced students of modern dance. In the last three years, seven of my students from this class have gotten full college tuition scholarships. Let me know what you decide."