Page 40 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10

Sunday

Bryce

Alina looked so fucking hot dancing around in her dress, with the high slits giving glimpses of her lingerie and the low-cut neckline exposing her cleavage.

Part of my brain was focused on my dance moves, but the majority of my concentration went into not getting an erection.

My tight American flag morph suit showed the outline of my penis even when I was flaccid, so I could only imagine what would happen if I got a full-on boner.

It would turn my crotch into an extremely patriotic teepee.

Two of my fellow dancers stepped forward so that they were standing on either side of Alina as she gyrated her hips.

One of them grabbed her arm and pulled her against his body.

She ran her hands through his hair and grinded on him for a second before the other guy snatched her away and received the same treatment.

Jealousy shot through me. It was tough watching her dressed the way she was and dancing on those guys.

I just kept telling myself that this was just a performance.

She was mine, and after the dance, I was going to show her exactly what that meant.

When Alina spun away from the two guys, the one she had been grinding on kept hold of her dress, causing her to spin right out of it.

Wow. I had to blink to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

Alina was now dancing around wearing nothing but red, white, and blue lingerie.

Her garter belt squeezed her tiny waist to accentuate her perfect figure, but my favorite part was the way the straps holding her stockings up framed her magnificent ass.

I already thought it was the greatest ass I had ever seen when I watched her play volleyball in her spandex shorts, but seeing her dance around in her thong and heels took it to an entirely different level.

All of the hard work I had done earlier to not get an erection was immediately wasted. The fabric of the morph suit felt strange as it pressed against my growing erection.

Fuck. It was like every ten-year-old boy's worst fear coming true: having a boner with nothing to hide behind.

When I was in grade school, I had this irrational fear of having to stand up in class while I had a boner.

I would always get so nervous every time I had a boner, and by some cruel twist of fate, thinking about having a boner just made it even worse.

During those terrifying moments, my mind would race and come up with ridiculous plans for how I could hide my erection if my worst fear came true and I had to stand up for something.

One plan involved stalling to stand up while I discretely tucked it into the waist band of my pants.

Another was to stand up close enough to the desk so that my boner would be pinned down.

I even made sure that I always had a book easily accessible in my desk so that I could hide my junk behind it in a dire situation.

Those were all great plans for hiding a classroom boner, but they were worthless on stage. And thinking about it was just making it worse. Visions flashed through my head of "boner guy" becoming an internet sensation, much like "left shark" did after Katy Perry's half time performance.

Then I realized something. Even though the morph suit made my boner ridiculously visible, it also covered my face. I could let my boner go crazy, and no one except for those familiar with the choreography would know it was me.