Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 8 Now Pay Attention 327
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Incredible ChangesChapter 327: I’ve Been Had free porn video
What have I gotten myself into now?
At five-thirty AM, the bedroom became filled with teenaged gymnasts, half of which were naked already. Others who began taking off what little clothes they had worn into my room.
For the next two hours, I shaved or trimmed their pussy hair, speed-washed them all, and then got to watch them dress while one of their older sisters sat with my dick buried inside her as we waited for the girls to dress in their leotards. She let them watch as she used her pussy muscles to get me off very quickly and then put me in something similar to biking shorts and a spandex shirt that fit me like a glove.
A picture began to come clearer as things came into light.
My room was filled with gymnasts from different teams here from all over the country. Being naked with me in my hotel suite wasn’t all that unusual, given events as of late. It did seem odd that they had a large tour bus provided by the meet to transport the gymnasts to the meet but found themselves without a driver. Their schedule start time was pushed back an hour due to another unforeseen challenge. When we arrived, I found the sponsors, officials, and judges had spent hours with police answering uncomfortable questions about their missing judge.
Oh, that bastard is going to fry even if I have to bribe every honest judge with so much untraceable cash that they ensure he has no chance in hell of getting out of even a parking ticket for a car he didn’t own.
The boys and girls competing tended to have a high-carb dinner the night before and only have high-carb drinks right after they got up, but that was it. None ate breakfast. I, on the other hand, was fed bites of food as I let my fingers do whatever they wanted to the hair of the girl who moved to sit in front of me. Some of the little self-righteous princesses threw tantrums about how I made the others look better than them, so they needed to have their hair redone right then and there. I didn’t do any of them because each demanded I do it for them.
I have the money to buy your way to every gold medal in gymnastics you competed in, and you don’t even know it.
“So, David, it is David, right?” a man asked after walking over with a group of other coaches. “Someone told me that you are a very skilled martial artist who should be able to beat our male gymnasts after only a bit of coaching regarding each area where men compete. My team has been doing gymnastics from the time they began pulling themselves up on furniture. From taking a look at you, I don’t see how it could be humanly possible for someone who looks like a professional linebacker to have the ability to do any of the events. Compared to the male gymnasts here, you look like you would be a lumbering ox.”
Do I know gymnastics? I know Kung-Fu!
I stood up and asked, “Where do I go to see if whoever put the bug in your ear is right or not? I’m curious about it myself. Many of the styles of martial arts I know use some moves which appear to have an origin in gymnastics. What is anyone out, no matter how I do?”
“Fair enough,” the same coach said before we headed over to where they had a vault setup.
I had watched the Olympics, but I only watched the women’s gymnastics.
“This one involves precisely hitting the springboard, placing your hands on the vault, pushing yourself up into the air, performing at least a single rotation, and the landing without moving your feet once you land,” the coach told me. “So an acceptable run would involve hitting the springboard perfectly, doing three rotations, and sticking the landing.”
I think I can do that if I push myself up in the air far enough.
The other coaches walked me through my run to the springboard, jumping from it to get my hands on the vault properly, and then how to stick the landing. To be sure I wouldn’t hurt myself, they had me do a run, hit the springboard, do a half flip to have my leg going up over my head, and then continue through the momentum to stick the landing.
I feel like I am moving through molasses with how slowly that went.
After they felt confident that I had a handle on the basics, they told me to get in two rotations, if I could, before hitting the mat.
With the launch off the springboard and the height from when I pushed off the vault up into the air, I untucked from the second rotation and still had maybe ten feet to go before I hit the mat. The coaches looked surprised. I decided to see what I could make it through before I hit the gym mat on my feet or landed on my ass.
I got a good run, made a nice bounce up off the springboard, let arms bend a bit, and then pushed myself upward and forward. To me, it felt a lot like diving off a high dive. At the height and forward momentum, let me do three spinning summersaults before sticking the landing.
The coach told me, “That had some decent technique. We’re going over to the rings.”
Asshole, the coach, told me. “These are a bit more complex than the vault. If you can do a standing jump to grab the rings, then do so. If not, we will aid you. The main thing to remember is that you must keep your arms straight once you begin a routine.”
The rings weren’t very far above my head. I had no issue jumping up to grab them. We started with me hanging down with my arms straight.
“Keeping your arms straight, bring your feet up perpendicular to your body and parallel to the floor,” which I did per his instruction. “Now, slowly push the rings out as you pull your body up so that your arms are straight out and feet still parallel to the floor.”
Once I had that down, he had me twist myself into a handstand with my arms straight as I had the rings pushing against my palms. After I held that, without any movement of my body, he reminded me to keep my arms straight and body rigid as I let my feet come forward. I was to use that momentum to get back into a handstand.
That was easy.
I did it four more times before asking, “Is that what you wanted me to do? Did I do them correctly?”
Yep. I can see it on the faces of the male gymnasts.
He took me through getting me so that my arms were at perfect ninety-degrees to my body to form a cross. After a few minutes, he had me do the same thing, but upside down. Finally, he had me push down on my arms like I was doing a push up with my body parallel to the floor facing down, then the same looking at the ceiling. He had me do handstands, rotation from handstand to handstand, and the ones where I hold my body in a specific position. I held each for around two minutes.
I looked down at him, as I held my arms out to the side with my feet above my head, and asked, “I don’t want to sound like a wimp, but I’ve been on here over half an hour. Can I take a quick break to get something to drink and take a piss before we start back up?”
When I had taken a piss and finished a bottle of sports drink, coach asshole said I did a fair job on the rings, for now. He took me where a guy was moving his legs around on the pommel horse or flipping his legs down for him to the horse was between them.
“Coach,” I asked. “I think I will try that another day. I’m not trying that out without a cup, if even then.”
One of the more experienced gymnasts went through a routine on the bar. He spun around it, did handstands, twisted in the air to face the other direction while letting go of the bars, and was in the process of trying to do a swinging flip in the air before re-grabbing the bars. He got one hand on the bars, but his body was too far back, and he couldn’t get his other hand on. The guy landed hard into the mats. It was evident when the spotter helped him sit up that he’d dislocated his arm. Using the place in my head, I saw nothing was broken or damaged muscles. The kid is losing his mind because it was going to mean he may never compete in gymnastics again.
He isn’t going anywhere unless someone knocks him out or distracts him long enough to relocate his shoulder. I can do the latter two.
I went over to three of the girls I had shaved bald this morning. Their bodies were in between how a little-girl leotard fit in the crotch and how an older teen’s leotard did. Each had a gap that showed everything if they moved just right. Well, if they moved much at all. Their leotards did stay in place from side to side, so no having a full show from it pulling tight on one side. Each sat there cooling down after some part of their competition or warm-up.
“I think I’m going to ask you three to pay me back for what I did to help you this morning. I need some help distracting the guy over there by the bars. I need to relocate his shoulder, but he is going out of his mind about how this just ended any chance he will ever have of winning anything,” I asked, and they readily agreed.
The girls knew how to get any guy’s attention that they wanted. Each moved to be spread out in front of his vision. Then, as I’m sure they did dozens of times daily, they began to stretch. Pain or not, a peek at some pink through the leg hole of their leotards will have any male distracted, even if it is because they are trying to find if they see what they thought.
His trainer was there trying to calm the kid down and not having much luck. Both started watching the girls, so It was no problem to move over next to the guy. Pull his arm out in front of him and work it back into the socket, using the place in my head to do it very quickly, but in a way that wouldn’t cause him any pain. I even blocked the pain he felt before I put his arm back in the socket. He was too busying looking at the wide selection of shiny pink canoes waiting for someone to take them for a paddle around the puddle. After allowing him another few minutes of fun, I waved to the girls, and they left.
“Man,” I told the guy on the mat, “That looked like it hurt? Is your arm okay? It looked like you dislocated it before you fell. Your arm seems fine to me.”
He is going to be sore, but at least he isn’t crying like his world just ended.
Wherever his parents had been, they were here on the mat beside him now. His trainer said they would want to get him checked out. It looked like he dislocated his shoulder. He needed his arm x-rayed and checked by his doctor.
Once they were gone, he pulled me off to the side to say, “If I hadn’t been at the perfect angle to see you do it, I wouldn’t have noticed you relocated his shoulder. How did you manage to do that without him feeling it?”
“Something I learned somewhere, but I don’t remember where. Well, relocating the guy’s shoulder and blocking the pain by pressing in the right places to numb the area I mean. Using girls to do what they’ve been doing since the second woman on earth wanted the first man on earth, that I learned in middle school. All I did was ask them if they could come over and stretch to distract him. I think they like teasing guys with little peeks at what they have problems finding the right leotards to cover, or they do that on purpose.”
Coach asshole had wood, so he suggested that I try to do what I saw that guy doing but try not to fall.
Oh, okay, dick!
In my head, I knew how to do everything every male gymnast winner of every worldwide gymnastic competition did to beat out their competitors on the horizontal bar. I took the most difficult of their routines, munged them together, and then ran through them on the bars, finishing with the twisting flip in the air that the guy messed up. Deciding I needed to mess with asshole a bit more, I moved around the bar to be facing away from where I needed to land on my dismount. I got up some speed, and then when at almost the highest part of my spin around the bars, I let go and did a triple somersault, one-hundred-eighty-degrees twist, and landed straight down on the mat standing up.
There was thunderous applause.
“I’m sorry, coach. I must meet a friend at a martial-arts competition, or something, shortly. I don’t want to piss her off by being late. Thanks for your time. I didn’t realize that gymnastics and martial arts had many similar motions. If I had the time, I wouldn’t mind going back to the rings to see if I can finish what you tried to show me,” I said, sounding very grateful and trying not to be a dick.
I didn’t have any idea where they were holding the martial arts competition. I had thirty minutes before it began but still needed to change and register. Elena was waiting outside, ready to drive me over.
“Good trick,” I told Elena.
She smiled before answering, “I didn’t do anything. Dad knew a particular asshole at the gymnastics was very outspoken about martial arts, how we didn’t need any real talent, stamina, or much of anything, other than memorization. It is your fault you ended up shaving and braiding the girl gymnasts. Some of them are from your town, and they did all the work to get you here. Dad is still inside, discussing things with that jerk as we speak. I can’t help it that you don’t seem to have any issues with lactic acid. Even Olympic athletes can’t last more than a few minutes in the rings, much less two to five minutes of holding themselves in any of the positions like you did.”
On the way to the arena where we were doing martial arts, Elena explained how she correctly predicted that the people organizing the martial arts event would switch this to competition after everyone had signed up today. It let the ones in the know come in to get trophies in every discipline. She was happy that these people didn’t turn this into an MMA event.
“We are unknowns. They will use us to pump up those they want to compete against later in the event,” Elena explained. “I plan to sign up for four different disciplines. These are the ones they want to sweep to look good for later competitions. You, however, are going to sign up to compete at the highest level of every discipline competing today. Being unknown and unranked, they will require you to prove your skills against ever level of each form of martial arts where you want to compete. It is bullshit because they want to scope you out before their ringers get in there later.”
I changed in the car on the way over, skipping the cup that I knew was too small. They sent Elena off to the women’s section, and me off to the under eighteen. I didn’t question it.
As Elena told me to expect, these people start saying they couldn’t just let me complete as a black belt because I wore one.
I’m okay with that. These people can play their little games if they like.
“David san,” said the old master, someone sent to the Dojo back home to speak with me. “It is a great honor to talk to you once again. Have you brought a student to compete here today?”
Fortunately, no one here speaks this dialect.
We discussed how these people play these tricks all the time to make their team rack up wins at events they organize. A friend asked me to join in every discipline I knew to show them I didn’t pick this Gi off the rack at a costume store somewhere. The old master’s laughing hysterically appeared bewildering to the people running the event. He told me to play their game, for they needed to learn a lesson.
Cheryl
- 26.11.2022
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