The Yoga Goddess, Part II: The Goddess has a Name. MF, casual encounter, sensual

[Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f05mdm/the_yoga_goddess_mf_intense_sensual_casual/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

Part II: The Goddess has a Name

Several weeks pass as if nothing had happened. We continue attending the same, 7:30 night class, but with no extracurricular activities. We make eyes once in a while. I try not to lose focus staring at her, but my efforts are futile. Her round, perfect ass is highlighted so perfectly by her skin tight spandex. When she wears her sports bras, I admire her belly. It twists and bends effortlessly. It has a softness to it, yet I know it is strong and limber. I trace her legs, from feet, to calves, and up her toned, thick thighs and curvy waist. Her rounded shoulders give way to her feminine, toned arms. Then there’s her ideal chest. Her cleavage shows, her bra hugging her body tightly. I recall her kneeling before me, fucking me with those tits. I daydream what it would be like for her to have on that sports bra, and to slide my cock between those mounds. To feel the tightness, the resistance, and her breasts bouncing together with my thrusts…

The outline of my hardening cock is clearly visible as I come back to reality. The timing is unfortunate, as we are beginning the bridge pose as part of a sequence. Starting on our backs, we slide our feet up, plant them on the mat, and lift at the hips. Now, I admit I am a subtle exhibitionist, but I am not into showing my goods to unsuspecting people, or being too outward with my exhibits. But now, hips pointed at the sky, I fall victim to my fantasy, and my huge bulge is clearly outlined, shaft pointing straight toward my belly button, my tip nearly poking out of my shorts. I find relief that we’re in a pose where no one can see their reflections in the room-spanning mirror, therefore no one should be able to see my flagpole in salute position. I’m nearly finished scanning the room, when I see her. There she is, on the side, standing, looking out at the class. She must have taken a quick water break. She swallows her water as she locks eyes with me. Then I see her eyes travel slightly down my body. She licks her lips, and gives the most subtle eyebrow lift and smirk I’ve ever seen. Then she returned to the sequence as if nothing had happened. This did not help my pulsing boner situation.

My post-class routine goes back to normal. I’m typically the only guy that who stays and showers after class. I know that she stays later, too, often with one or two other women. She talks often with the instructors. When I’m there alone, I get myself off to the memories that happened in that place. As time passes, a small part of me begins to question if it even happened, as if my imagination made it up. I think, “Maybe it was too good to be true.” I’m a decent looking guy, but she is worlds above me. If I’m a 7, she’s a 9.7. I try to find gratitude for the incredible memory, but I ache for more. Weeks continue to pass, and we don’t do any more than exchange pleasantries.

Then my fortunes began to change. After class, a familiar small group clustered with the instructor. I over hear her talking about hours she needs to accumulate, and some kind of test she has to take. I’ve never seen a look of doubt or worry on her face. Except, maybe, the time she had to break it to me she couldn’t blow me on behalf of her lock jaw. I hear the others apologize, saying they’re busy, or other excuses. Even though I’ve been here nearly a year, I’m still the new guy. I generally don’t speak unless spoken to, and the regulars mostly keep to themselves. This time, though, I was included. The small group of 4 looked over at me, a bit of desperation in their eyes.

One of the women speaks up. She’s small, with dark hair, a little older than the rest. “Sarah needs to finish her instructional hours before she can sit for the instructor’s exam.”

The goddess has a name.

She sighs. Then the goddess speaks, “Yeah, I have everything I need besides direct instruction time,” she says.

“So, could you take a few classes from her? None of us can with work, kids and other stuff,” the dark haired lady chimes in.

“Uh, yeah, I’d be glad to help,” I utter. “When, ah, would be a good time?”

Sarah replies, “How about after this class? My work schedule has changed, and this is really the only time I can do it. You can see why it’s been hard to find someone who I can teach, everyone’s free time is so limited.”

“Sure, I can meet with you after this class,” I say, my heart racing, sure I’m turning red.

“Awesome!” The group exclaims. They begin to go around and introduce themselves, as if now I’m a part of their exclusive club. I was polite and shook hands with them, not remembering any of their names. Sarah. Sarah was the only one I was concerned about.

“Could we start next week?” She asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

“Hmm. Yeah, I think I can do that. So, every week, then?” I say, pretending like I have other important things to do.

“If that’s okay,” Sarah responds. “I need a ton of hours, so the more you can do, the better.”

“Cool, next week then. This will be good, I’ve been wanting some help with my poses, anyways.” I say.

“Yes, next week!” Sarah says, excited and relieved.

I say goodbye to the group and head to the locker room. Again, I’m dumbstruck by her. “Private lessons? What exactly does that mean?” I ask myself. “And just us two?” My thoughts spin. I compose myself enough to shower off and get dressed. As I make for the door, I can hear rustling in the women’s locker room, and I’m sure it’s her. My animal instincts tell me to rush in and devour her. But my human side wins. I decide I have to try my best to play this cool. I work on focusing my expectations on the yoga lessons. I really am eager to have personalized lessons. I appreciate the benefits of yoga, and it has helped me in so many ways.

The next week is a mix of excitement and anxiety. I easily fantasize about being alone with her again. Then I remember my insecurities with myself, and picture her seeing me struggle. To add to the complexity, I’m notified that the Wednesday 7:30 class has been changed from hot yoga to Hatha Yoga, an intermediate class that focuses on flexibility, strength and relaxation. In other words, a yoga class that touches on all the main benefits of yoga. There is a note for yogis to wear comfortable clothing that is easy to move in, but close fitting enough for the instructor to help correct postures if needed. At first, I feel disappointed that I won’t get to see her in her tight hot yoga gear, all sweaty. And to not have her instructing me while I’m in my tight shorts and no top. On second thought, though, a little more modesty may not be the worst thing. For one, I’ll probably feel less vulnerable being a little more clothed. Also, being one on one with an amazing woman after sweating in a 100 degree room for 90 minutes may not be the best recipe. I’m feeling more optimistic now.

Wednesday arrives and I’m filled with excitement and curiosity. For the new class, I select my gray joggers. They’re form fitting, but not skin tight. I can move easily in them. I notice that with trunks underneath, the lines show clearly through the pants. Maybe this is a small taste of what it’s like to be a woman? So, if I don’t want my underwear lines showing, I have to wear a thong or go commando? I elect the latter. To be fair, hanging loose is far less restrictive for yoga. Also, if anyone cares to look, the fabric is thin and clings just enough to outline my circumcised cock. The line is there, even when I’m not excited, but I’m still modest enough for public. My show would only be for eyes that are seeking. For my top, I pick a comfortable long sleeve shirt, black with gray sleeves. I check myself out before leaving. I approve, and decide I look lean, athletic, and ready for yoga, while also not looking presumptuous for what may happen later.

I arrive, lay out my mat, sit, and breathe. I notice many of the same characters, along with a few new faces. While the class piles in, a striking new woman catches my eye. I’m not sure of her ethnicity, I’d guess she has multiple. Her skin is a caramel shade. Her long, wavy black hair with blonde highlights bounces as she walks. She’s shorter than Sarah, but just as curvy. As she walks closer to me, I see her piercings. Her nose has a hoop, and she has that piercing above her lip, a small shiny stud. And multiple ear piercings. She has tattoos, but she’s not covered. I can’t help but notice her tits bounce as she walks toward me. I haven’t seen her from behind yet, but it’s clear from the front that she’s not lacking. She has a tight, black tank top, with thin straps. Along with black yoga pants with a lime green design. I look her in the eye as she scopes out the spot next to me. She smiles, warmly.

“Hi! Is this spot taken?” The golden beauty asks.

“N no,” I stammer, and move my water bottle to make room for her mat. “It’s all yours.” I say, trying to look welcoming.

Her eyes are incredible. They’re hazel and green, and could be stared into forever. She lays out her mat, bending over, her ass clear in my view. I was right.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m new here if you couldn’t tell. I’m Tania.”

“Hey, I’m Jonas,” I reply. “No worries, I’m pretty new, too. Welcome, I hope you like it here, most people are pretty nice.”

She smiles, then goes into her own world, sitting cross legged and closing her eyes. I can smell her earthy oils. Not patchouli, but something similar. She has some bracelets and toe rings. She pulls her hair up to reveal a small tattoo on her neck, I can’t tell what it is. She stretches her arms straight up then pulls them over her head, one at a time. I see a small patch of black hair in her armpit. I’m not accustomed to seeing women with armpit hair, but I have no problem with it. On Tania, I actually found it kinda hot. I realize I’m close to staring now, and the class begins to save me from things getting awkward.

The class is less strenuous than the hot yoga I’ve gotten used to. It has its challenges, though. For a short sequence, we need a partner. Naturally, I team up with Tania. I’m not really sure what the point is, but she’s instructed to do a high lunge pose, while I stabilize her at her hip and under her arm. There’s a tinge of energy that surges between us when we touch. Then she faces me, while I hold her hip, and hold up her arm. We lock eyes and I stop breathing. We switch and I do my best to not be weird.

The class concludes, and Tania and I say goodbye and she goes on her way. I stay, sitting with legs stretched apart, reaching for one leg at a time. The regulars congregate for a shirt time, then Sarah emerges and walks toward me. She’s still amazing, even not sweaty and half naked. She has green leggings and a blue tank top. Her cleavage is just short of bulging. She reaches me, smiling. “Are you ready?” She asks, then motions back towards the front of the room. I always stay at the back, never venturing to the front of the studio. I notice how large the room seems, how long the mirrors stretch and reflect the whole room.

I set my things down. “So, what are we doing today?” I ask, optimistically.

“Well,” she starts, “I’m mainly interested in teaching hot yoga, so I suppose it would make most sense to do that… if that’s okay with you.”

“I’m game for whatever, just happy to have some extra instruction,” I say, truthfully.

“Great, let me find the thermostat and we’ll get started.” She says.

The heat kicks on and we stand side by side, in full view of each other, the empty studio behind us. She also grabbed us some towels, as the heat makes everyone sweat. She starts us off with a meditation and we lay flat on our backs. I feel relaxed, she has a very calming voice. We focus on our breathing, and the room continues to heat up. I begin to be distracted by the heat. The meditation ends, and we sit up, both now glistening.

“Shit,” she says. “I forgot to tell you it would be heated, so you could bring better clothes. I even forgot to bring something lighter for myself.” She sounds disappointed, and starts getting down on herself.

“It’s fine,” I reassure. “Let’s just get started, maybe we’ll get used to it.”

She sighs and smiles, still disappointed in herself. She begins the postures and I copy. I ask questions I’d always wanted to ask. Where to focus weight here, how to balance there. She aids me, adjusting my body in multiple places, my back, hips, legs. We’re 10 minutes in, and both miserable from the heat. She looks defeated, and begins to offer to quit for the night.

“You know,” I begin, “Were the only ones here, and we’ve already seen all of each other. I want to see you naked again, of course. But, I’m actually learning, and would be bummed to end here.” I point out, being fully honest.

She inhaled deeply, thinking. “Okay,” she agrees. “But this is not normal procedure.” She points out.

I agree, and we both begin to disrobe. She pulls off her clingy blue tank, revealing those familiar, perfect tits. I pull off my sweaty shirt. Then my bottoms come off. My commando secret revealed, she smiles at me through the mirror. Then she peels off her leggings, revealing a sleek black thong.

We stand and look at each other in the mirror, both glistening from the heat. “Much better, good idea,” she says. And we continue.

I’m listening to her and following along, but I also feel blood rushing to my middle and I start to swell. I manage to transition pose to pose for a while, her naked body occasionally touching mine for corrections. Her hands seem to find more of me as time goes on. A light touch on the side turns into a firm grasp, her fingers creeping towards my inner thigh.

At one point, she’s behind me, helping me move through a sequence. With my arms stretched up, she is close behind me, I can feel her bare nipples on my back. Each of her hands wraps around a hip bone, and she gently guides me this way and that. One arm reaches up to guide my upper body to the right, then slides back down my shoulder, grazing my chest, her hand resting back on my waistline, her fingertips teasing the tip of my trimmed pubes. Then her left hand reaches up, pulls me to the center, then to the left, and she mirrors the motions her right hand took. Now both of her hands on my hips, her fingertips mere inches from my growing member. She peeks over my shoulder, looking down, then looks at me, smiling.

Leaning my upper half to the left, I’m straining physically while also feeling my cock grow. She reaches both hands up, grazing my body from hip, to belly, chest and arms, and she centers me. Her arms stretched with mine, her hands on my forearms. Her body contours mine as she pulls herself closer. I can feel her pressed against my ass. She slowly lowers her hands, this time tracing my chest hair and nipples, over my belly button, hands meeting at my pubic bone, then separating down each inner thigh. It sends shivers down my spine. Her hands resettle on my hip bones. This time she pulls me closer, pressing her shaved pussy area into my ass.

“Okay, I want to help you with your bends,” she says. “I notice you still have a little bend in your knees, so we’re gonna loosen up these hips.”

I obey. My legs shoulder width apart, and her body directly behind mine, she presses into my back to bend me over, slowly. I’m grateful for my meticulous grooming habits, namely my naked, clean asshole and taint. I keep bending, she corrects my knees, then I’m folded over, knees straight, her hands back at my hips. I enjoy the stretch, and look up, to see her smirk mischievously. Her hands direct me to lift, and she thrusts her hips into mine as I do. Her hands wander again, this time her left taking my cock confidently in a firm grip. “Do you feel loose here?” She asks softly.

“Not quite,” I say, encouraging more.

With one hand now slowly stroking me, and the other back on my hip, she pulls me in, and rotates our hips together back and forth. Back and forth. I feel her breasts against my back, her thighs pressing into my legs. Maintaining her tight grip, she slides down my hip bone, cups my balls, and makes way to press on the outside of my prostate. She’s thrusting me now, her pussy into my ass and she’s jerking me while teasing my taint. Then she stops, her hands back on my hips, and bends me over again, a little forcefully. This time, she moves her hands toward her, and she grabs a handful of my ass cheeks in each hand. My hands are flat on the floor, knees straight. Her hands full of my ass cheeks, she thrusts some more, rotates, then smacks my ass. One hand feels between my legs, and she finds my still hard cock and gives it a few tugs. Then moves to my balls. Then she makes a firm, deliberate line from my taint, over my ass hole, up to my lower back. I lift myself up. Once again, this is all very new to me. But I’m not complaining.

Now we’re standing straight up, her arms around me. I can feel her warm breath on my face. She says softly, “Time to lay on your back and do some mat work.”

Like always, I obey. I take a swig or water, and lay back on my mat, tent pole reaching towards the sky. She stands over me, my legs straddling hers. She’s still in her black thong and no top, her hair pulled back, but messy now. I figure there’s a reason she has bottoms on, and don’t bother to ask. This also makes me assume that she will not be on the receiving end of our play tonight. I get the feeling that she’ll get her turn eventually.

Looking up, I see the perfect roundness of her breasts, her nipples pointing out. She kneels down, her knees between my legs. She instructs me to pull my left leg toward my chest and away from me. She assists, making long strokes from my knee, along my inner thigh, and up my hard shaft. She traces the veins that are pulsing as she teases me, and circles my tip. Then she goes back to the stretch, pushing and rotating my leg, and I can feel my hip loosening. The sensation of the stretch and the sexual stimulation is intense. I breath deeply and focus while she repeats on the other side. Except on the right side, while she stretches my leg, she bobs her head down to circle the tip of my cock with her tongue. My body is both tensing and relaxing, and the confusion is intoxicating.

I’m instructed to prop myself up to my knees, and then lean back, arching my back, reaching my hands towards my ankles behind me. Before I can begin the stretch, we look at each other, both on our knees. I circle her nipples, and feel her down to her ass, where I squeeze firmly. Meanwhile, she continues to tease me, lightly going up and down my now aching shaft, circling my head and repeating. Our sweat allows our touches to glide effortlessly. I arch my back as instructed, and I can feel the stretch in my hips and chest, my hungry cock pointing out assertively. She leans into me, pressing her soft, sweaty tits into my abdomen. She presses on my arms and shoulders, and teases my nipples with her tongue. She presses her slippery, sweaty tits into my pelvis. I can feel an eruption building in me at this point, although the physical strain of the pose helps to contain it. She holds my stretch, while licking my chest, collar bone, and nipples, all while her chest rubs into my urgent cock.

Temporarily, she eases her attack. We both sit, one our legs tangles in a sweaty, naked knot. We look at each other, with lust in our eyes. This time, I pounce first and pin her back on the mat. I straddle her, post her arms above her head, and kiss her. I kiss her hard, and she lets out a high pitched moan. I rub my slippery, sweaty cock on her belly. I let up, and look into her eyes some more. I think how this time feels different, more connected, more intimate. Next, I release her arms, and comb through her hair and tug gently with one hand. The other travels down her side, and back up to her exposed, hard nippled breast. I do this in one motion, as I lean back in to kiss her, more gently this time. I play with her bottom lip as she squirms and her moans become deeper. I slide down, kissing her neck and ear lobes. Then her collar bone, and down to her erect nipples. I nibble and suck, while caressing her whole body with my hands. I move back up, kissing her once more, then letting up.

I stay on top of her, with my head lifted above hers. Breathing heavily, I ask, “So, how many lessons do I get?”

“At least one more. You are going to have to get me off next week. I’d like to see what else those hands can do.” She replies.

“I have a tongue, too,” I quip, motioning my tongue as if I were licking her clit. With that, she spun me around, and mounted me.

“You’re damn right you do,” she insisted. “It’s time for our final pose: the bridge,” she instructs.

She slips off of me, making sure to rub her body all over me and my aching, desperate cock. She stands over me, and instructs me to pull my legs up, and plant my feet into the ground, about shoulder width apart. Then I’m told to lift my pelvis, and stretch my arms below my body. I do as I’m told, and feel the stretch, but my body is warm and building strength, so it’s not as strenuous as it used to me.

“You’re going to need to be sturdy for what I’m about to do to you,” she warns.

She inspects my posture, striding slowly to my side. I try to hold and breath, I want to please her. She makes her way behind me, and places a foot on each side of my head. Then she bends at the waist, her lips touching my ready to explode cock, and her arms reach forward, sliding her arms up my legs and landing her hands on my knees. She applies more weight on me, and I support her in my stance. I look up to see the black strip of her thong and the bottom of her ass bending over. Her hands travel down my thighs, and back up to my knees, and back, and forth. Then she leans into me more, now her mouth able to lick and tease my balls. With a hand on my leg for support, her free hand firmly, confidently strokes my nearly erupting cock. Her tongue travels from the bottom of my shaft, down my balls, to their base. Her hand glides easily as she strokes me, with our sweat and my precum mixed together. I feel the stress in my muscles, the sensations of her hand, mouth and body on me. It all sends waves of intense pleasure, from my core to limbs, and back again. My breathing gets quicker and deeper, and I feel the rush of cum building where she licks the bottom of my scrotum. She senses what is coming, and falls deeper into me, I’m supporting nearly all her weight. Her head dives deeper into my pleasure zone, and her strokes become faster, harder, as she presses my cock between her hand and her neck. I look down, to see her tits bouncing, hand jerking, and head bobbing down on me. I reach my limit and allow my burst to flow. The first beam grazes her cheek, and travels straight up, crashing into the mirror, maybe 7 feet up. The next few stream under her chin, and she opens her mouth to receive the rest. I allow her to dismount me and I collapse onto the mat.

“Nice shot,” she says, admiring the crash of my cum, high up in the mirror.

“Thanks,” I reply, admiring my shot. “I suppose you deserve some credit, too.”

“Lesson 2 next week?” She asks.

“You’re on,” I say, still catching my breath.

“Let’s go clean up and get the fuck out of here,” she says.

We walk together into the women’s showers, and clean ourselves off at neighboring shower heads. It feels very intimate to shower next to her, the sexual expectations stripped away. We dry off and get dressed, saying very little. Her company feels comfortable and familiar.

I walk her to her car, and kiss her, gently and intentionally. We keep it quick, and agree to meet next week. I get home and climb into bed, replaying the night over and over. Needless to say, I slept very well that night.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f6m37u/the_yoga_goddess_part_ii_the_goddess_has_a_name