Dancer: Denis Vieira
Photo by Alvar Fañez
Wow, the curvature of his body, the straightness of his leg, the strength of holding himself up on one foot! So impressive; what beautiful pose that makes all his strength look effortless.
Tag: flexible
Vermeil.
Timofej Andrijashenko
Rome Opera Ballet
Corpo di ballo del Teatro dell’Opera di Roma
What a mouthful of a name for a slip of a dancer.
Exercise.
(One late night ballet reblog.)
Tightly Wound Boy.
Royal Ballet principal dancer Edward Watson
One late night ballet reblog because I looove Watson.
Penché✌
Boy, that ain’t natural, but damn if it isn’t gorgeous. Fuck yeah male ballet dancers.
Andrew sighed and cursed under his breath as he examined his racket. “Broken string, I need a break.”
It was just a local tennis match between two regional teams, but a small crowd had populated the stands. They began to murmur as the announcer called for an interruption. Andrew’s tennis partner was happy for a water break.
However, repairing the racket took longer than Andrew thought. The crowd began to get restless, so the ball boy decided to take matters into his own hands. He’d gotten the job of fetching errant tennis balls and cleaning up the locker room from a friend of a friend, and he thrived in it – he liked being useful and getting recognized for it. Joseph didn’t know what a houseboy was, or a faggot, what BDSM was, or any of those fancy words. What he did know was that he had a massive crush on Andrew and wanted him to know he existed.
Joseph walked out to the court. He took off his shirt first – which got a lot of applause from the ladies – and then his shorts, which got whistles. He tried not to blush. The jockstrap didn’t hide much. By now the crowd had gone quiet and were watching him. Joseph put his hands down on the court and brought himself up to a handstand. He used to be a gymnast, and although he stopped in college, he hadn’t stopped going to the gym and was still in top shape. For the next fifteen minutes, he entertained the crowd with impressive handstands, splits, balancing tricks, and standing backflips.
After nailing one of those, Andrew walked over and swatted him playfully on the ass with his fixed racket. An announcer stated the game would commence. Andrew held up Joshua’s hand and he got a standing ovation for saving the day. Joshua was trying not to freak out that Andrew was actually touching him, acknowledging him! He flushed under the recognition from the audience. He nearly fainted though when Andrew whispered in his ear, “I hope to see you in the locker room later.”
Joshua was floating on Cloud 9 for the rest of the match. When he got to blow Andrew in the shower later, he was convinced he’d died and gone to heaven. By the end of the season, Joshua was following Andrew around like a loyal dog and was happy as a lark.
__________________________
Text is fictional. Source is unknown.
One late night ballet reblog for my readers. So much tension in this picture.
Dancer: Eldon L. Johnson
Photo by Peddecord Photo
I know I push you too hard. I know I strain you, stress you, demand you to be hyperflexible and to bear the weight of my entire body on my toes. I try to meet you halfway though. I make sure to stretch you and massage you and soak you. I drain the blisters under your nails and cut out the corns and callouses that make for awkward steps. I know you tell me you’re hurting, that you need to heal, but I abuse you and push you forward. I know this is not what you were intended to do, but you have carried me so far – across life and across the stage. You are hurting, throbbing in pain, so it is obvious I am not taking good enough care of you. I’m so sorry. When I dance, it is a compromise of art and my physical limits. I need you. I need you so much, so please, don’t hold me hostage. I can’t do this without you. I need you to fly. Just a little longer, don’t give out on me. Two more performances, and then we can rest. Get that surgery you need. I promise. Just be beautiful and hold me up a little longer. Please.
(Text is fictional; dancer is Gonzalo Garcia of the New York City Ballet.)
Someday, my prince will come.
(Yet another one of the endless beautiful photos of Friedemann Vogel; in this he’s doing a perfect arabesque. Btw, I don’t think he’s actually gay.)
Northern Ballet dancer Tobias Batley as The Prince in David Nixon OBE’s new ballet of Cinderella.
Photo Emma Kauldhar.
You could crush walnuts with that ass. What a tremendous display of power and strength.