The yoga class

The yoga class is supposed to be a place of purity, which is why the thought of one descending into a pansexual orgy is such a turn on. There is another reason. My wife is a yoga teacher. Our sex life is vanilla but she knows that I have dark desires – not just the young students who come to her class, but for guys also. She knows that my innermost fantasy is to take a cock and have my way with one of the younger girls. She’ll tease me during love making, asking me to imagine another young firm body in the mix; a cock probing me from behind.

There is an energy to an intimate yoga class. It is uplifting; everyone feels great. What if that higher energy became a heightened sexual energy? There is another attraction of the yoga class – the lure of pure bodies; no tattoos, no piercings or studs; young firm flesh and natural bushes. I don’t have a fetish for hairy but a bush should be natural. At the end of the class, a couple of students stay behind; one of the new girls, early 20s, all innocence and large breasts and one of the guys. He looks like a dancer; great body, an appetizing lunchbox behind the lycra. The girl has an issue that needs addressing and my wife recommends that we offer some ‘treatment’. Clothes are soon off.

This is at a private venue, a yoga retreat. Somewhere hot. Bodies need the sun to awaken our desires. My wife directs. She motions for me to begin touching the girl, to run my hands up and down her body. Soon I’m tonguing her breasts and kissing her lips. Then I feel something warm wrap around my cock and I look to my wife to know it is not her mouth. Tongues, lips and pussy all converge. And cock. I bury my mouth into the pussy of my wife as the younger girl works on her breasts and the guy enters me from behind; I fuck the girl from behind as she orally works on my wife and I take the cock in my mouth. Open mouths and hungry tongues, every orifice filled until satisfaction and explosions of cum. Om peace.