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Just a bunch of very real problems gymnasts face every day.
I know that not a lot of people may find my book interesting as they may have never heard of Rhythmic Gymnastics in their life before as it is not that common but please...
"What's that red stuff?
oh, It's just my leotard. "
La protagonista de esta historia es Meliana Elizabeth Mastropiero, -"Neimi" para familiares y amigos- una chica de 18 o 19 años llena de complejos e insegurida...
This story is inspired by a diary entry written by a young mother about her love for all the boys and men that she has carried around in her heart for decades. This firs...
A true story of how I had gained my affinity for diapers and how it happened, I hope you enjoy.
11 year old boy volunteers for a 'new experience' and finds himself dressed as a ballerina.
It was a normal day for level 5 gymnast, Mia Ross, but when she buys a new leotard from a thrift store her whole life is turned upside down.
I enjoy hearing corrections...
Alex Amanda the youngest out of a family of 10 she has a dark past but covers it up with the incessant act and gymnasts fame Alex is a very good gymnast but in special t...
collection of short stories from Taurus and Libra.
This is gymnastics would you rather. There are 2 choices and you have to pick the one you rather do.

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Two college students are locked in the library after hours.
A prophecy and a chance discovery lead to love. mother/son.
Mom learns about aerobics and son in the early 80's.
Allison and Jason continue their relationship.
Ben finds out his mom used to star in heroine peril videos.
He learns what it means to become a doll.
Kelsie doesn't let Rebecca's pantyhose get in the way.
Alone in the Gym: Monica has fun by herself.
Grad student's girly addiction requires desperate measures.
He takes his 18-year-old neighbour to class.
His birthday present is late but he isn't complaining
Ben finds out his mom used to star in heroine peril videos.
Ben and his mom take things farther.
The next night - the loving continues.
A sissy husband's humiliating punishments continue.
An aerobic workout with three hot foxes.
An aerobics instructor becomes the ultimate weapon.
Elegant rhythmic gymnastics routine leads to lust.
Wyatt dares Landon to play dress-up. Landon accepts.
A one on one exercise class with leotard clad Tanya.
The third chapter of my college crossdressing adventures.
Satomi and I get invited to a toga party in her dorm.
A young gymnast, newly single, becomes a strippergram star.
Toby tries on spandex and can't seem to get enough.
Masturbation, massage and more at the spa!
Sober Cody turns back into Drunk Cody.
Angela's dirty dancers perform just for me!
Sports Centre: a weekend in a hotel leads to erotic adventures.
Andrew wants to be the perfect spandex doll for Mike.
Two men's leotard fetish goes a step further.
Toby and Charlie learn more about Doherty.
Austin has his mind changed about ballet and men at a galla.
Georgio finally connects with his ballerina angel Theresa.
I meet a female FSB/Russian Oligarch sex spy.
The boys dive headfirst into a new spandex lifestyle.
Two guy friends share a secret fetish.
The Fabric of Porn - by Arthur J. Rock.
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It was another warm summer day as I drove toward the Academy. I loved
days like this. The sun was glaring, bright and warm, and with school
just having ended for the summer break a week ago, attendance and
enrollment were both way up. That meant every class at the Starbright
Physical Excellence and Expression Academy--my brainchild and my pride
and joy--was chock full now. As I turned the corner, I saw scores of
little leotard-adorned girls, hopping out of cars with their little
gym bags, standing around outside talking, playing hand games or
giggling at silly jokes. They were probably waiting for the current
classes to end, so they could get in their spots inside.
I shut the car off, and as soon as I got out, I saw a tiny crowd of
girls rushing toward me. "Miss Stephanie!!!" they cooed, arms
outstretched, wrapping gangly limbs around my waist. I smiled, and
held them tight. I wasn't a teacher exclusively here, but I ran the
place, and made sure things went smooth, so the kids knew me well.
"Good afternoon, girls," I said to them. "Are you all ready for your
lessons?"
"Yes!" they piped up! Beautiful little girls, all of them. Bright, wide
eyes, big pretty smiles, tight little bodies, with just the barest
hint of tummy, their leotards clinging to their little frames. It was
just enough to make my pussy start to throb.
"Go on inside, girls, I'll be in there in a bit," I told them, and off
they scattered. One stayed behind to give me one last hug, and her
cherubic little face nuzzled against my groin for just a second, but
it got me excited. I gave a sigh as I watched her run into the
building, and was thinking playfully of how bad it was of me to wish I
could get her face between my legs again with less of a fabric barrier
when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"M--Ms. Prentice??" I braced myself, and turned to see a dark haired
woman, her hands on the shoulders of a girl. I was infinitely more
interested in the girl, although her mother was quite attractive as
well. But the girl had olive colored skin, not very dark but much
darker than the woman I presumed to be her mother. She had long, dark
wavy hair, and big, doelike brown eyes, and it was quite apparent that
the girl was mixed. She was also wearing quite the sour expression.
The woman held her hand out, and I shook it and gave her my "Wheaties"
smile. That was what people liked to see.
"My name is Angela Burress. This is my daughter Kimball,she's 14. I am
so glad that Kimball got in this year," she gushed to me. "I mean, to
think that she'll be training under an Olympics calibur athelete--"
"I mean, I know you haven't competed in years but it's absolutely
incredible! I mean, how many other people will get to say that?" I had
to fight hard not to let my smile fade. I hated when people brought up
my past.
I was Stephanie Prentice, one of the Team USA members in the 1982
Olympics. Some called me a child prodigy, others the future of the
sport; I just called myself good. I was 16 when I made the team, and
six when I began my training, which was daily and dominated my whole
life. All I knew was gymnastics.
The day I competed, my routine was flawless, but I screwed up my
landing, and in doing so, screwed up my knee. And my career. I could
never compete again. I was a wreck about it for a while. How do you
teach yourself not to do the thing you feel born to do? How do you get
that out of your heart? I went through a small bout with painkillers,
and four years after the accident, I took some money and started a
gymnastics and ballet school. I just wanted to be in that atmosphere
again. The drive, the intensity, the competition. I was living
vicariously through these girls. Every time I saw one of them do a
handspring or walk the balance beam for the first time, I felt that
old thrill again inside of me. Today, the school is more successful
than I had ever dreamed it would be, and I felt like a winner again
most days--until I had conversations with people like Ms. Burress, who
couldn't possibly know how much it hurt not to be able to compete, or
the pain your heart carried when you were reminded of it.

"Kimball is new to all of this,and a little rough around the edges,
but she's getting better, right Kimmy?" Kimball gave a lax nod, with a
slight roll of the eyes.
"Well, it's good to have skill, but I try not to focus on that to a
fault. I like to think that just being here and trying for some girls
is good enough. It keeps them busy, gives them drive, keeps them out
of trouble---"
"Oh! Trouble is something we know plenty about, huh Kimball?" Ms.
Burress said in a snippy little tone. I got the impression that
Kimball was being sent here so she wouldn't be hanging out elsewhere
during the summer. I didn't like the idea of my school being used as a
babysitting service, especially when I thought of all the other girls
who would have killed for Kimball's spot. But that wasn't her fault.

I turned my attention to her. "Well, Kimball, would you like to go
inside and take a look around?" I asked. She nodded. "Sure," she said
in a lackluster tone, breezing past me. I watched her walk in, then
turned to Ms. Burress and said, "So...what kind of trouble landed her
here?"
"I--well, you know, I--it's a bit private," she told me, starting to
nervously run her hands through her hair.
"Well, you brought it up, so it can't be too personal, with all due
respect. Besides...if Kimball's on drugs or something---"
"No. Nothing like that." She sighed. "I wish it were that."
She wished her kid was on drugs? What the hell was this little girl
doing?
"She....Look. I caught her playing some little....game with one of her
girlfriends. A sexual one," she told me in a quiet voice. I wanted to
laugh.
"You mean, like Spin the Bottle?" I asked with a straight face.
"Worse. They were....She was on top of her friend, and...they were
rubbing their....their privates together. Moaning like...like two...."
Ms. Burress stopped herself. I was glad she did, or I would have
needed to change my panties. I was getting even wetter now, imagining
the pretty little Kimball rolling around her bed and writhing against
her friend.
"It's hard to discuss. I feel like I failed as a parent."
"No, Ms. Buress," I said, trying to console her. "These things are
natural---"
"Absolutely NOT." she replied, with a frown. "No....kissing boys is
natural at this age. Holding hands with BOYS, getting urges about
BOYS. Not this."
I severely disagreed, but I stayed mum. "Well, I'm sure staying here
every day will help her get focused on other things," I told Ms.
Burress. She nodded, and put on her big bright smile again.
"Thank you, very much. I have to go now, but I'd love to talk later!"
she said, getting back into her car. I waved at her, and walked into
the building as she drove away. As soon as I walked in, I heard one of
my instructors bark, "Get DOWN from there!!!"
I stuck my head in the door, and found a class full of girls decked
out in their little ballet leotards giggling at the instructor as she
struggled to pry a little girl off the bars used to help the girls
train. She was perched on top like a bird, and grinning as she held on
for dear life. I decided to intervene, and stepped into the room,
blowing my whistle. The class fell silent, and the little girl's head
whipped toward me.
"I'l take her, Julie, don't worry," I told my instructor. I gave the
little girl a stern look as I took hold of her, and she offered no
resistance as I pulled her from her perch. "I don't appreciate you
interupting this class," I told her. "You'll be coming with me for the
day, so I can go over the rules here with you and make sure you obey
every last one. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," the little girl said, her eyes wide as she peered up at
me. She knew I was the top dog here, or at least got that impression,
so she was being good...for now. She was adorable. Strawberry blonde
hair, pulled up in a ball at the top of her head and secured with
pretty pink ribbon, big green-grey eyes, so clear they looked like
glass. I took her by her hand and led her out of the room. "Now,
what's your name?" I asked as we walked down the hallway together.
"Danielle," she replied. "But my Daddy calls me Ellie."
"Ah. Well then, Ellie, how old are you?"
"I'm seven," she told me. She tugged indelicately at her leotard in
the back, which was riding up on her. "This hurts," she told me. I led
her to the bathroom, to help her fix it--and get a quick look at her
cunt. I couldn't help it.
I helped her slip out of it, and I dragged my hand over her little
lips, casually enough for her not to notice. "Ah, I see, "I said as I
glanced at the cameltoe the stockings were giving her, making her tiny
pussy lips very visible. "You've got these all bunched up." I tugged
and twisted, and soon she was much better. I ran my hand up the backs
of her legs, over her rounded little buttocks, but not long enough to
be obvious in my intent. "There---no more wrinkles," I confirmed.
"I don't want to put that back on," she whined softly, and I chuckled.
"Well, you have to. We can't let you do ballet naked!" I replied
playfully.
"Well, we really only rear those during the big shows. But maybe I can
find you one to wear at home," I told her. She lit up, and happily put
the leotard back on.

We headed back to the hallway, and I hadn't made it far before I
heard the piano of the all boys ballet class. I peeked in there, Ellie
peeking in right along with me. I loved to see the boys in their
leotards and stockings, rehearsing their steps. They had such a grace
to them.....One boy in particular caught my eye. He was much smaller
than the others, his body having not yet developed the more defined
and lean look of the other boys his age. He had a blond bowl cut,hair
the color of straw, and stormy blue eyes.He was focused intently on
his moves. He moved especially well, and I loved his shape in the
leotard. He could have easily been mistaken for a girl, if not for the
slight bulge in his leotard. I watched him a bit longer, and when the
music ended and the boys stopped their dance, the only thing that kept
me from staring was Ellie's enthused little claps and her voice
calling out, "Yay!!!!!" The boys gave her a chuckle, and so did I. I
noticed that while the other boys seemed to have friends they hung out
with as they prepared to head home, the one, smaller boy did not.
I walked up to David, the instructor. "What's his name?" I asked,
pointing to him. David glanced over. "Oh, that's Tyler. H
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