Summary
They go through their set paces. All are flexible but none more so than the silver blond. He leaps right in front of me, turning his legs as he does so, so that I see the creamy thighs.
The audition ends and I send all away—all that is except the silver blond. We stand there facing each other on the lit stage as all the others sort through their gear and depart through the stage door.
Then, in the silence, the silver blond slips off his briefs pulls his hair out of the pony tail, letting it flow around his face and down to his shoulders, and stands there, legs slightly spread, arms out from his body at a forty-five-degree angle, palms turned toward me, a shy smile on his face, and a long slender cock dangling between his legs; standing there, in supplication, awaiting my bidding.
He is hairless other than that silver blond hair cascading around his head—and hard as steel.
I slowly strip off my leotard and he comes to me in light, dancing steps and raises his right leg, almost parallel to his body and leans it gently against my shoulder, exhibiting premier flexibility. His left hand takes both of our cocks together; his long slender one and mine, heavy, long, and thick, and holds them together as they both rise. I feel my chest swelling and rising and falling in quickened pace, while there is no trace of excitement or concern in his—total control.