Kota stepped out of the change room first, the door creaking behind him as he adjusted the hem of his gym shorts. The gym felt larger now, emptier without the usual chaos of balls bouncing or whistles blowing. His eyes scanned the space automatically, landing on Otis in the center of the floor. The new teacher was not on his mat like Kota expected. Instead, Otis had a jump rope in hand, facing away toward the far wall where the bleachers were folded up. The rope whipped around in smooth, rhythmic arcs, his feet lifting lightly off the ground with each hop.
Kota stopped dead in his tracks. He had to watch. There was no choice, really. Otis's monumental ass bounced with every jump, the leggings straining against the massive globes as they clapped together audibly. The sound echoed through the gym, a wet, meaty slap that filled the high-ceilinged space like thunder in a storm. Each hop sent ripples across the cheeks, starting from the base and traveling outward in waves that seemed to last forever.
The deep cleft between them shifted and flexed, swallowing more of the fabric with every motion. It was hypnotic, the way the ass defied physics, projecting out like a shelf while still jiggling so freely. Kota's breath caught in his throat. His cock twitched in his shorts, hardening despite the soreness from last night's ritual. He could feel the blood rushing south, the urge building fast.
A few other seniors trickled out behind him, their footsteps halting as they caught sight of the same view. One guy, the one who had dropped the water bottle earlier, let out a low whistle under his breath. Another nudged his friend, whispering something Kota could not quite hear, but their eyes were glued to Otis just like his. The rhythmic clapping continued, louder now that they were all focused on it, bouncing off the walls and creating an almost musical beat. Slap, slap, slap. It was relentless, each jump amplifying the motion, the cheeks colliding with enough force to make the leggings ride up slightly higher.
Kota's mind raced. He imagined bending Otis over right there, grabbing those flared hips and pulling him back onto his cock. The thought hit him hard, vivid and unbidden. He could picture the ass spreading around him, the jiggle intensifying as he thrust, the clapping turning into a symphony of flesh on flesh. His hands clenched at his sides. The urge was primal, overwhelming, his body still primed from the ego boost in the change room and the endless drain of the previous night. He knew if this went on for longer, he would do something he would regret. Snap, maybe. Lose control in front of everyone. His father Khalil's voice echoed in his head, warnings about staying strong, not giving in to weakness. But this was different. This was temptation wrapped in soft, wobbling perfection.
He cleared his throat loudly, the sound cutting through the gym like a knife. Otis startled mid-jump, the rope tangling around his ankles as he spun around. His face flushed a soft pink, that maternal smile spreading across his features. He laughed lightly, the high-pitched sound warm and forgiving, like a parent catching kids in a harmless prank.
"Oh gosh, y'all are back already? Time flies when you're in the zone." Otis clapped his hands together enthusiastically, the motion sending a final subtle jiggle through his lower body. "Alright, everyone, gather round. We're gonna do some yoga today to relax and unwind. Nothin' too strenuous, just some gentle flows to get the blood movin' and clear your minds. It'll help with focus for the rest of your day, trust me."
Some seniors muttered under their breath as they spread out, "I'd love to unwind in something else, hehe."
The words were low, snickered between a couple of guys near the back, their eyes still flicking toward Otis's ass. One elbowed the other, stifling a grin. Otis did not seem to notice, or if he did, he brushed it off with that same soothing demeanor. He just smiled wider, rolling up the jump rope and setting it aside before gesturing to the mats scattered across the floor.
A few more seniors filed in from the change room, completing the group. They all moved to the mats, unrolling them if needed or claiming spots on the ones already laid out. The gym floor felt cool underfoot as Kota picked a mat near the middle, not too close to Otis but not hiding in the back either. He sat down criss-cross, legs folded, hands resting on his knees. Around him, the others did the same, some groaning as they settled, others still whispering about the view they had just witnessed. The clapping echoes lingered in Kota's ears, but he forced himself to focus on the mat beneath him, the faint smell of rubber and old sweat.
Otis stood at the front, hands on his hips, surveying the class with that gentle, encouraging gaze. Everyone was in position now, sitting criss-cross and waiting for instructions.