A Friend in Yoga
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Part 1: The Meet
The sun is setting and the sweat is falling. Exhaustion, relief, anger, calm, fear, love, peace… it’s all usually felt within a session of vinyassa yoga. But this night was different. Not that those feelings didn’t come up… of course they did! It’s hard doing yoga! But, that said, the light just shone brighter on our way, my wife’s hand in mine.
Our love was, and still is, very real, and the warmth of it can been seen in the soft words spoken before class began, the kind glances at each other during even the most strenuous poses, and the hand held after the class ended. We are perfect as we are, and nothing need be added, sweaty or not, tired or not, alone or not. That said, perfection can never be beat- but it sure can be spiced a little differently, depending on the day and mood. Like an already perfect day, topped off with an ice cream sundae. Tonight was just like that. A little extra.
Before class, we introduced ourselves, as required, to a new person in the room. Ease usually called for it to be those immediately next to us. A woman to our right, whose name I still try to recall but can’t, and a woman directly in front of the both of us. She held my hand in hers as she said her name and repeated ours, her eyes beaming attention and focus on you, and she did the same with my wife. She and my wife look at each other a moment, asking some sort of pleasantry. To be honest, I was distracted by the fact that they were still touching, smiling and talking a few seconds longer that one would usually expect these forced introductions to go.
Vanessa’s shoulder tattoo, an ornate black spiral, could easily be seen through her purple camisole as she warmed up in various positions in front of the both of us. I couldn’t help but notice her movements, but, as I always do, I remind myself that she, like all people, is beautiful inside and out and that it is disrespectful to glance a moment too long. I avert my eyes, right to my wife’s.
“Stop,” my wife playfully mouths to me. I just shrug my shoulders, as if to say “Who, me?” My beautiful wife and I look at each other again, a bit bashfully, and smile. I take her palm in mind and tickle it, leaving her with a playful smile. “Te amo,” I mouth to her. Her smile beams and softens in response. That smile I love so much, the one I want to see every day for the rest of my life- however long that may be. “Yo a ti” she mouths back to me. And with that, we are asked to begin in a seated meditation.
Now, being someone who gravitates to this kind of thing, I’m not averse to noticing errant thoughts running through my head when I should instead be “just chilling.” Some thoughts, though, latch on and latch on hard. My wife’s hand, Vanessa’s hand. Vanessa’s hand, my wife’s in hers, greeting each other, but something more. Did my wife think the same thing? Was I just being a typical guy, reading into any female attention as something sexual? Okay, just thinking. That’s just a thought. Feel my breath- all my attempts to label my thoughts and move on.
More thoughts. My wife’s smile, a slightly upward curve to her lip, the kind she gives when she’s flirted with. The realization that someone’s attention is on her, and her alone. Jealousy- mine. Wait, why? What’s going on? Breathe… stop being such a guy!
Ah, yes. The breeze of the A/C, thoughts of an evening meal before bed. My wife’s knee so close to Vanessa’s. A made up mental image, vivid as if real and in front of me- Vanessa biting my wife’s lip. Stroking her back. Me behind my wife, right behind, about to…
The thoughts are interrupted by the teacher’s prompting, which I immediately disregard to continue thinking. Okay, this is testing me. Some meditator I am, right? How do these monks supposedly acknowledge and then deny their sexual urges? All I can think about is when I can’t get home and be alone…
Upward, downward, child’s, upward, downward, warrior, etc. Flow, flow. Getting more difficult with each round of sun salutations, I forget the whole thing prior. Sweat is beading down my face, my wife is apparently in better shape than I am and needs (much) less rest than I do. Damn, she looks good. She even looks a little calm, through all that sweat and contortion. Can’t say how happy I am to be married to her. These thoughts are again disappearing and cycling back as the class’ difficulty waxes and wanes.
Moving through the poses, Vanessa needs no rest and, like a lot of the others in the room, she looks entirely focused or entirely lost in thought- I can’t quite tell. But whatever bahis firmaları it is, it’s complete. It’s all encompassing, and she doesn’t look like she could care a thing about what’s going on outside her. For this reason, I was completely taken aback and surprised to look up, stretching and rolling my neck in downward dog, to see her looking back, through her legs, directly at me. Smiling at me, briefly, before throwing her leg between her hands and setting up for warrior one.
What the hell? I thought. Now she’s just being goofy. That “white woman from Boulder” kind of bliss, where she’s just beaming through the most difficult poses. That’s what it is…
Another pose, another, and another. Next round, I see her peaking down through downward dog, right to my wife. No, not just looking. Staring. Her eyes staring, then glancing leftward to mine, then through to her mat as we again set up for warrior again.
Okay, I have to admit. I’ve done plenty of bored or strained looking in yoga. Sometimes to avoid the discomfort, or worrying thoughts, or because of attraction. But they’re fleeting, and, like I stated before, I quickly come “back” out of respect for myself, the others I might be seeing, and, incredibly important to me, to my wife and our mutual respect for each other. These looks she was throwing at us, though, were not so obviously out of boredom. They were playful, yes, but damn it if I didn’t read a bit more into it. There go those thoughts again.
I looked over at my wife, our last round of sun salutations to go, and mouthed “what’s going on?” She just smiled and shrugged, as if to say “What?”, like I did those eons ago. Surely she couldn’t have been oblivious to the constant looks Vanessa was giving her and I, in all the variety of positions she found herself in to look back at us. I’ve either got the mind of a hormonal sixteen year old or I’m right- those looks over hers are more than idle glances.
After some unbearable ab work, the lights turn down. Savassana, peace, quiet. Finally, I could get over all this. I’m being silly. It was nothing, Vanessa is just a nice and smiley person, a complete heterosexual, maybe even an asexual yogi, with eyes only for enlightenment and maybe an herbal tea.
My wife was completely unaware of anything going on, precisely because there was nothing to be aware of. I was reading into it, my fantasies running wild, and here I am, all sweaty and tired and confused. I can go home, make love to her and only her, forever happy. Must I think such thoughts? Why should my mind go to those far out, albeit enticing, places?
Her hand, my wonderful wife’s, grasps mine as we are guided awake and led in a final “om” to complete class. There is that smile of hers that I love so much.
Vanessa was first to get up and get out after the final bell. Surprise surprise, right? Here to seduce my wife and talk us into a threesome afterward or something, sure… There she goes, leaving first, without even an acknowledgment to her new yoga buddies. Guess our introduction was forced after all. Thankfully, because that would be an awkward conversation to have. See… I’m just thinking again.
We all wipe our mats down, said good night to the instructor, and my wife and I walk out hand in hand. The air just outside the studio feels so cool and crisp on our drenched and heavy bodies, ready for rest. Ready for a meal, some playful banter (how could she not notice I had something on my mind?), and a good cuddle.
I love the way her body glistens in the night, whether it’s after our evening runs, a sweaty and intimate encounter in the bedroom (or tent), or post-climbing and yoga. God, I love my wife. And, to be honest, my mind began filling with thoughts of what I’d love to do to her, for her, in the shower when we get home. Where I’d love to trace her hands, where I’d love to run my fingers and lips. The soft, light, slow touches she’d feel all over her body. Moment by moment, until, together, her and I cli-
“Hi!” a voice just behind us beckons, a little meek and quiet, small in comparison to the enormity of the thoughts I’m having. I spin on my axis, my hand still in my wife’s, and look right into a familiar face. Vanessa had a cup of coffee in hand, and a warm smile to greet us. “What’d you think of class,” she asked, to the both of us, but looking directly at my wife, a wry smile on her face. My wife paused, a little stutter followed by a curious smile, and I jumped in- “Interesting, if I had to use one word.” A pause, and we all laughed. What the hell was kaçak iddaa I doing?
“Well, if there’s one word I’d use, it’d be ‘interesting,’ too.” Vanessa sipped from her coffee, as if she belonged next to that door, no intent and no purpose, just chatting. A little distant, even. In thought. Her eyes look up the moon, and my wife’s and mine follow their gaze. “Beautiful night,” she says. My wife’s hand grips in mine, sweaty and tight, and I feel a slight tightness. Holding me there, but pulling me to look down at her. She carries a look of questioning in her eye, where I immediately saw the moon’s reflection in it. Soft, warm, lovely and brown. God, I love her. But, of all the times I’d simply kill to read her mind, now isn’t the time I seem able to.
Vanessa broke our revelry. “So, if neither of you is going to say it, I will.” Her lips upturned, playful, a shiver running down her as the breeze picked up. “It’s a beautiful night, with a beautiful moon. I just had a fantastic, super sweaty yoga session. I’ve got my coffee and am ready for whatever comes next. I’m sweaty and in need of a shower, but wanted to see if you two wanted to hang out, too. Get to know each other, seeing as how we might see each other from time to time in here. Loosen things up.” Her smile fades, and she looks intently at my wife. “So, what do you say?”
Frozen, that’s how I felt. This could mean anything, of course, just a hang out. Just something casual and fun because we just met, shared something nice and broke some walls and boundaries together. Why not, right? But the thoughts I had floating in and out of my crazy mind this past hour clouded all that, and inserted another intent altogether. If that was true, as impossible as it may seem, what should I do? I don’t want to make my wife feel in any way less loved, lovely, or desired, but I also want to know how she’s feeling. What’s she thinking? What does she want out of all this? Does she want a shower and bed, with me alone, to forget this possible scenario happened, or is she asking something else in those beautiful eyes? How do I ask all these questions while Vanessa stands there, waiting for our response?
“Yeah, we’d like that,” my wife says. She looks to me, the love in her eyes unchanged but, I couldn’t help but notice, with the presence of something new and mysterious in their recesses.
Well, that solves that mystery.
Part 2: The Date
Three empty wineglasses sit on couple’s dining room table, wine bottle candles lit and the curtains drawn. Though no one is in the room, traces of them are. A pair of socks, a t-shirt, a pair of yoga pants, another t-shirt, another pair of yoga pants, a purple camisole, a pair of men’s cargo pants, and a series of underwear- three in total, lined up like hiking cairns leading to the closed bathroom door. Through the door one could hear, if they wished, small laughs, talking, and giggles beneath the constantly running water. Pauses. The occasional moan, sometimes brief and sometimes sustained. Laughter. Time was insubstantial, and no one knew how much of it passed that night.
When the bathroom door finally opens, steam rolls out and is followed by three bodies playfully racing to the warm bedroom across the hall.
What a shower! And now, this bed. I love this bed, especially when my wife is on top of me giving me the look she is giving me right now.
Her lips burn hot on mine, a hint of wine still on her breath, and I could still feel the heat rising off her body from the shower and, from where I rested just beneath her hips, coming from herself. We revel in each other’s smooth, sweet smelling cleanliness. We had never been bathed like this, for sure, but I have to admit- it was fun, and we were both taken care of in every way imaginable. We had never let another touch us in that way since the day we met each other, nor let another touch us while we pleased each other. So, obviously, all that’s transpired was indeed a first for the both of us.
But, from the way my wife continued kissing my neck, pressing herself to me and onto me, guiding me just outside of her to tease herself, she didn’t seem to mind the notion of a round two. She kisses her way around my neck, from left to right, planting deep wet kisses with each motion. In between kisses, she looks back at Vanessa, who’s lying on her own on the edge of our bed, wet hair draping over her naked chest. I can’t believe my eyes, but my wife receives a blown kiss from Vanessa, and she immediately looks back to me with lust filled eyes. The kind of eyes I’ve kaçak bahis seen on our honeymoon, after teasing and touching all day long, only to realize all she needs to do is take what she wants. I could feel her warm hand grasp me again, my full length just bursting to be inside of her, guiding me in. Slowly, perfectly. So instantly wet, so instantly and insanely warm and perfect. Made just for me. Made just for this.
Vanessa eyes me throughout all of this, through my wife’s positioning on top of me, through her guiding me inside of her, through her first yelp of pleasure as she feels all of me sliding in and out of her, staring at us as my wife mounts me and sits up straight, her beautiful soft breasts pointing right at me, beckoning me. As I feel my wife take all of me, every inch, I lean up and take each nipple into my mouth in turn. Slowly rolling it around my tongue, I feel her hips buck and shutter, pulling me in closer. As I suck on her, I feel my wife’s wonderful pussy grasping me, needing me, and Vanessa inches closer. Closer to the middle, closer to us, further from her edge. Close enough for my leg to be grazing her stomach, her chest, as she crawls toward my wife. Closer still she inched, as I look into my wife’s eyes and feel her beautiful power over me. Her and I, just the two of us entwined and loving it.
I love my wife so much, and want to give her the world. I want to find a way to give it all to her right now, for her to feel the weight of it and feel the power she gives me. Just as she tells me she loves me, whispering in my ear as she thrusts her weight again and again onto me, and I reply with a deep grunt as I feel myself hit inside and up, the perfect spot, Vanessa’s hands grasp my wife’s hips. “You two are so fucking hot together,” she coos into my wife’s ear. I can feel both hers and my wife’s breath as Vanessa plants kisses along the side of my wife’s chest, heaving in our love making. Vanessa’s fingernails dig into my wife’s perfect flesh, pulling her back and onto me with each thrust and roll of my wife’s hips. My wife’s motion doesn’t change at all, but becomes all the more explosive and erotic seeing the look of intense pleasure in my wife’s eyes while another woman guides her love making, her riding of me, her husband and lover.
My wife yelps with pleasure as Vanessa can tell we have found that perfect rhythm together, that feeling that you never wish to come to an end, that pace, that warmth and build, and it’s not long before I take my wife’s breasts into my mouth and hands again, grunting aloud that I’m about to cum. Vanessa’s black nails dig deeper and run up and down my wife’s legs and hips, pushing her harder onto me as I feel myself slide even deeper into my wife’s perfect tightness.
I moan again, this time into my wife’s mouth, about my impending orgasm. In sync with each other, both Vanessa and my wife immediately sound with a deep, guttural “Ohhh, yes.” Vanessa’s hands again dig into my wife’s hips, her eyes gaze into my eyes, egging me on even further, while my wife gazes into my eyes with looks of deep, carnal pleasure. She knows what’s about to come, and she’s felt it before. That delicious, beautiful build, that need to feel me fill her.
With that, I hold onto Vanessa’s hands on my wife’s hips, pulling the both of them closer on to me, and burst inside of my wife. Drop after drop, I cum inside her as they both continue rolling onto me, breathing heavier and heavier.
My body shutters and spasms, bucking harder into my wife’s downward thrusts. I can feel her tighten around me, swallowing every drop inside of her. Just then, Vanessa’s face works its way down until my wife feels a bite, firm but kind and kinky, and then another, right above my wife’s perfect ass and up her lower back. This, combined with the building sensations of my bursting inside of her and my continuous statements of adoration and lust, send her overboard, shuttering and gasping as she cums on top and over me. Perfect, her waves of pleasure and spasms like a roller coaster on my now soaking and sensitive self. I can see the buildup in her eyes, in the way she grips the pillow and windowsill, as she falls over the edge, cumming with me, collapsing on top of me.
Vanessa kisses up and down her back, running her hands over and spreading her sweat. She leans in to kiss us both.
I hold her, my wonderful wife, Vanessa’s grip loosening and eventually parting, as I pull my wife in closer into my arms. I kiss her forehead, whispering words of love and devotion, as we hear Vanessa gather her clothes, and open and close our door, gone. I wait to hear my wife’s breathing find a quiet rhythm, knowing she’s asleep, and collapse asleep with her. Just her and I, perfect. I can’t wait to wake with her and tell her I love her.
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