Daddy’s Forbidden Fantasy (An Erotic Romance Series)

Chapter 6

Fred

Who had that girl been? The curvy one, the one with the ripe t**s and soft, plush ass? Because most of the girls in the troupe are undersized, gristly, and sinewy. Don’t get me wrong, these chicks can kick holes in fences, they’re athletes. But ballet favors a certain body type, and that’s scrawny.

It’s too bad because I’m fuckin’ hate skeletons with chicken legs and bony arms. Sure, I bang it because if it’s on the table, then why not? But lately, it’s f*****g sucked. The sessions with those girls last night had been bad, my mind wandering off even as I dicked those females hard. Not that they noticed.

“Unnnh Fred!” Martha / Marta cried.

“Give it to me!”

“Mmmm,” moaned Minky / Pinky.

“Yeah, just like that.”

So it’s almost mechanical now. Girl comes, splits those emaciated legs, and I’m in. I’m a well-oiled machine and there’s nothing more.

But the female this morning had caught my eye. Not just because she had a body unlike the others, but because she danced with an energy all her own. The brunette threw herself into the music, swaying this way and that, arching beautifully, a prima ballerina in the making.

Sure, she was doing all the same moves as the other girls, they were performing a routine after all. But this female stood out. The way her body arced and curved, the way every feeling was visible, every emotion flowing about her in a magical aura.

And s**t, but I ate it up. It’s been a long time since I saw something this amazing, it’s been a long time since any dancer has made my body and soul come awake. But this female had done it, those big brown eyes met mine a few times during the routine, and the contact was electric. The air sizzled between us, you could almost smell the burn, the sense that something incredible was gonna happen.

So I did what I often do, and put in a request to speak with our new charge in private. Miss Lane’s expression didn’t change as I growled.

“That one,” I said, nodding my chin at the curvy brunette.

“Tell her to come by my office later.”

Miss Lane gave a slight nod of her head.

“Of course, Mr. Hamburg,” she said deferentially.

“Of course, I’ll let Sasha know,” she said, before turning away.

“Girls! Girls!” she clapped her hands.

“Break is over, let’s get started!”

And making my way out of the studio, I turned once more at the door.

Sure enough, that beautiful female was staring at me, brown eyes wide, before looking away quickly, a flush rising to her cheeks. s**t, she was gorgeous. Those huge t**s were barely encased in a pink leotard, her tights smoothed over luscious, thick thighs, complete with a bouncy ass. I couldn’t wait to bounce her up and down my d**k, that rump was going to dance for me solo.

Because yeah, that’s what I do. I know it’s dirty, it’s nasty, it’s so f*****g wrong. But I often break in new dancers on my fat c**k. It’s cold-hearted, it’s taking advantage of sweet, nubile teens before they’ve even settled into the city. I’m trying to stop, I swear, but seeing that curvy brunette this morning made my resolve vanish. I need to taste her, I need to get a look at that sweet cunt and see if she’s as flexible as she appears.

So yeah, I walked back to my office with a stiffie. The recruiting mission had been stellar. I’d seen the new blood, the girls were perfectly suitable, and as usual, my d**k had homed in on one. Sasha was gorgeous, ripe and nubile, with a big, bouncy ass that was soon gonna be humping up and down, juicing and milking me as the girl cried out in ecstasy.

Satisfied, I went into my office and took a seat. s**t, time to get some work done before that crucial afternoon appointment, and buzzing Edna, I leaned forward.

“No calls,” commanded my voice.

“No calls, no emails, no visitors until I’m ready.”

“Certainly Mr. Hamburg,” replied Edna briskly.

“I’ll tell everyone you’re unavailable.”

And with that, I buried myself in work. This stuff was easy, I used to run a billion-dollar conglomerate so sitting at the helm of a tiny ballet company was a breeze by comparison. But still, it’s work. There are numbers to run, ticket sales to scrutinize, and bills to be paid. Always bills, call me the chief bill payer. But whatever, this stuff is so simple for me, it’s basically the same business with fewer zeros. With a couple of adjustments here and there, NYC Academy was gonna be the premier dance troupe of the city, bar none.

Suddenly, a soft knock came on the door, and I started, eyes going immediately to the clock. Oh s**t. It was three already, I’d worked through lunch, my fingers on the keyboard going so fast they whirred. It was time to get down, and suddenly I couldn’t wait.

“Come,” I commanded.

The door creaked open and my breath caught in my throat. Because Sasha was even more beautiful than before. The brunette wore casual warm-ups now, a loose sweater pulled over track pants, feet encased in sneakers.

Not exactly the sexiest outfit, but then again, dancers off duty like loose clothes. They spend their lives being scrutinized, so comfy sweats are a must during off-hours.

But s**t, baggy clothes can only do so much. Because the sweater couldn’t hide those huge, swinging t**s, and the pants only emphasized the width of her hips, chunky thighs that were fleshy yet strong, making my mouth water.

“Hi Mr. Hamburg,” she murmured, letting herself in.

“Am I early?”

“Naw,” I ground out, blue eyes meeting that deep brown.

“Just in time. Come and sit,” I said, gesturing to the chair across the desk from me.

With tentative steps, she made her way across the office and dropped into the seat. My eyes trailed every move, d**k eating it all up. Because even in these few seconds, the grace of that body had me captivated. She was so tempting, her ass wiggling and swaying, big boobies shaking as she lowered herself into the chair, so different from most of the ballerinas I knew, tiny A cups at the max. Did Sasha know? Did Sasha know how she was nothing like the others? My d**k jerked reflexively, hard as a mast inside my pants.

But there was no sense in freaking out the poor girl. This chick was eighteen for crying out loud, barely legal, and new to the city. There was no sense in pulling out my stiffie right away and forcing her to suck it. So instead, I went in easy.

“Tell me, what brings you to NYC?” I asked casually, steepling my hands.

“Is it the bright lights? The promise of a ballet career? The applause from the audience?”

Sasha’s face lit from within, breaking into a gorgeous smile.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“And not just that but more. It’s the chance to work with the best people, the best dancers, choreographers, instructors, and even the pianists. I feel like even our practice pianist is as good as a concert musician, she’s so talented.” I chuckled deep in my throat.

“Brenda is an aspiring soloist,” I acknowledged.

“She moonlights for us during rehearsals, but she’s also a full-time student at Juilliard,” I added.

“Her dream is to win the Van Cliburn concerto competition and then travel the world, performing in front of packed audiences.”

Sasha nodded, her smile bright.

“I get it, I totally get it,” she said breathlessly.

“Because that’s what I want too. I want to be good,” she said in a determined voice, that small chin set.

“I want to get better, I want to learn from the best, and NYC Academy is the place to do it. The best is here, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to join,” she said softly, meeting my eyes.

Hmm, that spoke well of the brunette. Some chicks have no idea how lucky they are, they arrive thinking that the welcome mat’s gonna be spread out, that their dancing is better than anyone else’s. Sure, their moves are good for a tiny town in Oklahoma, but this is New York City, and the competition’s at a whole different level.

So I nodded thoughtfully, taking in that curvy figure. Sasha smiled softly at me again.