The class continued for an hour more, dragging on with a series of stretches that felt more like gentle suggestions than actual exercise. Otis guided them through cat-cow poses, where everyone arched their backs and dipped low, breathing in unison like some kind of meditative chant. The seniors followed along, their massive asses jiggling with each transition, cheeks clapping softly as they moved from all fours to standing.
Otis kept his voice soothing, encouraging deep breaths that filled the gym with a rhythmic whoosh, but to Kota, it all blurred into a haze of dilly dallying that barely counted as a sport.
They spent ten minutes just sitting in lotus position, eyes closed, focusing on their inhales and exhales, which did nothing to ease the tension building in his groin. Every time Otis demonstrated a new pose, like a seated forward fold or a gentle twist, his gigantic ass stole the show, wobbling and projecting in ways that made concentration impossible. The seniors grunted through it, some collapsing into laughter when their exaggerated bodies refused to cooperate, hips too wide and thighs too thick to fold properly.
Kota stayed focused on his mat as much as he could, but his mind wandered back to Otis's earlier demonstration. The One-Legged King Pigeon Pose II had set the tone, and now every stretch seemed designed to highlight that monumental backside. In a bridge pose, Otis lifted his hips high, cheeks ballooning upward like rising dough, the leggings straining to contain the jiggle. The class mirrored him poorly, their own asses clapping louder as they struggled to hold the position. Breathing exercises followed, long holds where everyone lay on their backs, knees bent, but Kota's thoughts kept drifting to the hypnotic ripples he had seen earlier. It was torture, this slow-paced nothing that passed for PE, his cock throbbing persistently in his shorts from the constant visual feast. The hour ticked by in a mix of awkward holds and Otis's maternal praises, "That's it, y'all, feel the energy flowing," but Kota just felt frustration mounting.
Finally, the session wrapped up. Otis stood at the front, clapping his hands with genuine enthusiasm, his light brown hair sticking slightly to his forehead from the light sweat. "Y'all did amazing today! I'm so proud of how respectful you were, not causing a ruckus or anything. Kept it calm and focused, just like yoga should be. Great job unwinding with me." He beamed that warm smile, oblivious to the undercurrent in the room. The seniors shifted on their mats, exchanging glances, their restraint hanging by a thread. The only reason Otis had not been fucked by twenty-five seniors at once was because he had not asked yet. If he had dropped even a hint, a casual invitation or a playful comment, the gym would have turned into chaos. Their eyes lingered on his ass as he rolled up his mat, the cheeks still jiggling softly, but they held back, muttering agreements like "yeah, good class" while packing up.
Kota stood slowly, his raging boner tenting his gym shorts uncomfortably. He adjusted himself discreetly, heart pounding as he headed for the locker room door. The session had left him aching, every stretch a tease that amplified his arousal.
Showering with twenty-five femboys was probably the hardest ordeal yet. He pushed into the change room, the steam already rising from the showers as the first few seniors turned on the faucets. The air was thick with the scent of soap and sweat, lockers banging open as guys stripped down.
Kota headed straight for a corner shower stall, hoping for some privacy, but the open layout made it tough. He stripped off his gray tee and shorts, his cock springing free at full mast, thick and veiny, pulsing with need. He stepped under the hot spray, water cascading over his dark skin, trying to will the erection down. Around him, the femboys soaped up, their monumental asses on full display, cheeks lathering with bubbles that slid down deep clefts. One senior bent to wash his legs, his globes spreading wide, jiggling as water hit them. Another arched his back under the stream, the clap of wet flesh echoing. Kota bit his lip, hand hovering near his cock, but he resisted, focusing on the tile wall to hide his boner from showing too obviously.
But all of that changed when two of the more playful seniors got a little handsy. The younger-looking seniors in the class, the ones who always goofed around during drills under the old coach. They stood under adjacent showerheads, water streaming over their slim, femboy frames, their asses ballooning out like the rest, jiggling with every shift. The first one, with short dark hair plastered to his forehead, reached over playfully, swatting at the other's arm with a soapy hand. "Hey, quit hogging the hot water," he teased, his voice light and giggly, but his hand lingered, sliding down to pinch the other's hip.
The second one, lighter-skinned with longer hair dripping in his eyes, squealed dramatically, twisting away but not really trying. "Stawwwp! Not here, dude, everyone's watching." He laughed, splashing water back, but his body leaned in closer, their wet skin brushing. The first one grinned, stepping forward, his hands exploring now, fingers tracing the curve of the other's flared hips. "Oh come on, just a little fun. You know you like it." He pressed his body against the other's back, his own nub of a cock rubbing teasingly against the massive cheeks. The second one gasped playfully, arching his back to push his ass out further, the globes enveloping the contact. "Nooo, stawwwp, we're in the showers! What if someone sees?" But his tone was flirtatious, not serious, his hands reaching back to grab the first one's thighs, pulling him closer.
The first one started humping gently, his hips rocking in slow, deliberate motions, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with the shower noise. His hands roamed freely, one sliding up the other's chest to tweak a nipple, the other dipping lower to cup the tiny erect nub between the legs. "See? Feels good, right? Just relax." The second one moaned softly, still protesting half-heartedly, "Stawwwp, not now... oh god, that tickles." But he ground back, his ass clapping against the humping, cheeks rippling with each thrust. They explored each other playfully, fingers tracing wet trails over abs, down to thighs, one hand slipping between the cheeks to tease the cleft. The first one whispered something dirty, nipping at the other's ear, while the second giggled, "You're so bad, stawwwp or I'll scream." Yet he spread his legs wider, inviting more, their bodies sliding together in the steam, humps turning rhythmic, playful gropes turning into full caresses.
The scene unfolded under the showers, water amplifying every sound, the two lost in their teasing game. The first one's humps grew firmer, his nub sliding along the deep trench, while his hands pinched and pulled, exploring every curve. The second twisted playfully, "Nooo, stawwwp, someone might join," but his body betrayed him, arching into the touch, hands reaching back to squeeze the humper's ass in return. They laughed between moans, the exploration turning heated, fingers dipping into sensitive spots, humps syncing with the water's flow. The class watched subtly, some stroking themselves discreetly, the air thick with tension.
This was fucking hot, and it took every ounce of will for Kota to look away and not ask to join. His cock throbbed painfully, pre-cum mixing with the shower water, as he turned his back to the scene. The playful protests and wet slaps echoed in his ears, the sight of those jiggling asses grinding together burned into his mind. He wanted to step in, grab those hips, show them what a real cock could do, but Khalil's warnings rang loud, about staying strong, not giving in. Kota rinsed off quickly, towel around his waist, and headed for his locker, boner still raging, the locker room alive with the sounds of escalating play. He dressed fast, mind racing, the ordeal testing his limits like never before.