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Julie's challenger is revealed.

My body relaxes and sinks a little deeper. "Yes. Beautiful." Balm for my soul. I feel my heart begin to bloom and my chest opens a little more.

His hand leaves and I am bereft. I open my eyes and look for him. He is still there, looming over me. I stand, slow and controlled. His eyes are moving over the other men, checking in with each of them. Duh. Coaching. For a moment I thought we were alone, that this was a step towards seduction.

I try again, this time with my toes against the wall. It is smooth, and I can feel the difference. At the bottom I move, feeling into the pockets of resistance. My back begins to ache and I fold, letting my legs straighten and my torso relax. Touching my toes, I wiggle out the remaining tension in my low back, then grab my elbows to gently swing. It is then I open my eyes and am hit with a blast of heat.

I am being stared at. I realize then that the fabric is indeed wet, and now there are no panties to layer beneath the transparently stretched material of my workout pants. They can see my pussy lips. I am frozen. My heart skips a beat and I am unable to do anything.

In the moments it takes me to recover, there is a flurry of action. The coach places his hand on the small of my back, for all purposes pinning me in place, and several of the men come to stand around us. "Can you go back over the mechanics, I want to see." One of the men with a gravely voice and a tall, sun-kissed body is the first to speak. The coach releases me with his hand and I come back to standing. I am shaking a little as I press my hands against the wall above my head, feeling my body respond like a cat stretching. I close my eyes and move. The coaches hands skim my body as he talks.

"Shoulders down and back. Chest is up, big. Yes. Back keeps the lumbar curve - we're working the butt wink here. Yes. She can go really low, but she needs to stop where it begins to lose tension. Knees are out, perfect. The stand is fluid, faster but controlled. Yes. Once more."

His hand presses between my shoulder blades and my chest rises, my breasts aching, nipples hardened.

"It's hard to see." Another man complains, this one broad and big, heavily muscled. The coach gestures and the circle widens to include all the men. There are 5 of them now and I am trapped in the center by my own response. The coach tugs at my tank and bares my back. "See her spine? I am trying to keep all of the vertebra in the same place even at the very bottom. Watch." This time as I move I feel his spread fingers keeping track of the distance between bumps, and my skin is on fire. "See here how right where she stops it starts to want to release? You can feel it." I stand and feel the air against my belly with the bunched up shirt over my breasts.

"Can she sustain ab engagement when she's arched like that?" Another voice, this one mid-western and earnest, blonde and homecoming king quality. The hand slips around my midsection and I jump a little. It kneads me lightly and a quiet moan escapes me. "Again." I brace my abs and squat and the hand follows me down. As I begin to stand it slips lower, and grazes the top of my pubic bone and I gasp. "She doesn't seem to have an issue, but I do know what you mean. It can be a bit of a struggle to keep both, they are in opposition. I want the stretch in the therapy, but for work with weight I would prefer her to tuck the pelvis for the midline stability."

I am having a hard time breathing. Fuck. That hand is just above where I need to be touched. My hips move a little and I press my face into the wall. The hand refuses to move.

I am an animal now, I no longer care to pretend I'm not responding.

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