The Dance Teacher’s Private Cure

"Mmm~ Teacher, you can't press any harder."

In the dance studio, my dance instructor Charles Winston corrected my posture.

His hands gripped the inside of my thighs, pressing down firmly.

"Spread your legs wider. With your condition, you need rigorous training."

His movements pushed the itching sensation in my body to its peak.

To avoid failing the dance class, I had to let the teacher press against my body, even touch me there...

My name is Lily Anderson, a freshman dance student at the Arts Academy.

My body developed perfectly—curvy in all the right places, especially my long legs, making me a natural dancer.

Walking down the street, the breeze lifting my skirt could stir men's desires.

That's why I was called the once-in-a-century campus belle.

But behind this glamorous appearance, I couldn't even perform a basic split properly.

It wasn't due to inflexible ligaments.

Whenever I spread my legs, an unbearable itch consumed my body, and moisture flooded between my thighs.

During exams, male judges would stare intently at that area, making me feel both itchy and embarrassed, to the point where I couldn't even execute the moves correctly.

As a result, I kept failing.

With finals approaching, if I failed again, I would be expelled from the academy.

After dinner one evening, my dance instructor Charles Winston called me to the dance studio, saying he wanted to help me practice.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

The usually crowded dance studio was empty except for the two of us.

He stood in the center, his eyes roaming over my body, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"H-hello, Mr. Winston." I stood at the doorway, greeting him timidly.

"Lily, you're here." He walked over, closed the door, placed a hand around my waist, and guided me to the center of the room.

His hand remained on my waist, seemingly gently massaging it.

A burning, tingling sensation spread from my waist.

"Do you know why I called you here alone?"

"Because my grades are too poor. My movements are never correct." I replied softly.

"At least you're aware. Finals are coming up. If you fail again, you'll be expelled. You need to find a solution quickly."

I pleaded with Charles anxiously. "Teacher, please help me. I don't want to be expelled. My father would kill me."

Charles wore a troubled expression and sighed. "But you still can't even do a basic split. This is difficult for me too."

I lowered my head, stammering. "It's not that I can't do the split. It's that I... I..."

I suddenly choked up. Charles pressed curiously.

"What is it?"