Yesterday was a long long day. 5 am and not home until 11PM .

My days have been consisting  of that sweet spring fever, walking and driving around in a cock drifting haze. The hum and vibration of my vee dub igniting my pussy as I zip around, all those city boys catching my eye. When we get sunshine in SF– it makes every one giddy and happy and shed clothing. Today for me, it is those boys/men in suits–or partial suits riding bicycles. They look so good.

By 8 I was at the yoga studio, class starts at 8:15. I change up put my stuff in the locker, checking out all the beautiful girls of all shapes, size, ethnicity–flavor. I like flavor.

I check the phone one last time, because yes I am slightly addicted to it–and I have a few minutes before start time. I see your email…I only breeze through it–cannot really read detail on the phone, but yet it still makes me grow wet and only mildly jealous. Rereading a few parts over, I ponder. Then slam the locker and go claim my spot on the floor.

We start. Breathing. I am good for the first set.
Then it starts– the mind wander. I think hmm what did he expect to see underneath her soft powdery blue cami thing? Then I wondered, did she have small tits, why was she so anxious for easy access? You must have had her worked up. I snap out and focus on instructor. Somehow we have moved 3 poses down, and i had not even noticed.

I stay on my game for awhile then I start drifting again.

I think– was he fingering her asshole. Oh that is hot. I am already sweating because it is 104 degrees in the room but now I am flush and hot  because I am drifting thinking if you had your thumb on her puckered little star giving a little massage make her clitty pop even more.

Fuck! focus.

I snap out of it. I work hard for the remainder of the standing series then we move to the floor work…

Once on the floor though, it’s  all over, I drift away and think about her having your cock in her mouth. Jealousy or envy or both. I wanna be the girl to put you in outer space–I want to be the one that makes you see stars, that makes you slouch back in cock sucking ecstasy. More than anything– I want to be the one who make you sigh, moan–maybe even growl with my cock loving lips.

Focus Focus Focus!

Back to the yoga, it is time for bow pulling pose, on my belly feet and arms stretched behind me–hands pulling legs toward the sky–rocking on my abdomen, my pelvis, my cunt. It throws me over the edge, I am in a full on cock fantasy. I think about how she leaked her gloss all over you leg while she had your cock in her mouth.  Your curve was just so good to her mouth and to her pussy that she wanted to grind and cum while she thought about it, as she worked you with her lips. Maybe like me, she was imagining being fucked by that cock, while she sucked that cock.

During Savasana on our belly, I cannot resist shoving my hand, my balled up little fist deep between my thighs directly into my full of life pussy lips and grind into my self–I can tell I am slick not with just sweat but with a definite lusty want for cum. I was no longer in the yoga studio, but lost in the thought of…

damn your cock must me DELICIOUS…

I know I’ve said this before, but they really should not let such a lecherous woman like me into they gym and yoga studio. I’m sick. My mind and eyes never stop.

My normal gym facility has been partially closed due to remodeling so lately I have been going to the downtown/financial district location right after my long day at ye ol bibliotequea.

Well to my surprise it is nothing like my location, which consists of fat old babushkas and old crabby nosy Chinese ladies. At my location, I happen to be the youngest skinniest girl there, which has its perks, but I would much rather be ogling the eye candy downtown.

The men, the men–make my want weep. I drift into what each one would fuck like, taste like and smell like. What would they say, would they say anything. Does he grunt, breath heavy, throw those filthy lust filled odes around the room? Does he want me to? How long would it take to make that yuppie boy hard as a rock, would just the idea of fucking–begin to make his cock grow or would I have to work at it? I do have strong work ethic–ohhh I could really work on him.

Downtown, they come in all varieties–the machismo’s, the yuppies, the office-stuck in a cubicle guys, the high powered, the brooding arty types, the gay boys–they are all there, sweaty, bulging, walking around with their dicks hanging free in their shorts– just waiting for my lips to wrap around their branches that are swinging so freely in my direction. My jaw drops open, tongue pops out like a hungry lil’ slut that I am and the gym men line up, even the gay boys, and I work my way down the line and eat cock, keeping my posture nice and straight and my abs pulled in tight while on my knees–I am still trying to get a workout ya know. And all that eye candy cock is mine to make hard and use like I want. Some of them holding their dicks at the base waiting for me, kneading their balls– some let me do the work, some feed me, and some slap their cock–the head– all over my lips, tongue and cheeks. A cock sucking line up and dick slapping good time.

FOCUS! Snap out of it. Did I just do 40 minutes on this treadmill thinking about cock? I did. Woo Hoo, I love you cock.

Off to the locker room, still completely unfocused daydreaming about hard rock. Flesh flashes before my eyes, breasts of all shapes and sizes, cute naked women everywhere. I wonder if they were daydreaming about cock too?

I check them all out as I walk to my locker all the way toward the back of the giant locker room. I am surprised at how many women have full on bushes, no wax, hardly any clean up even, wild bush women. I get to my row, down the aisle I see the same two women as when I got there, we did our workouts and finished at the same time. They are super cute, I wondered if they were a couple, but then concluded they were just friends, but I am sure they were no stranger to the pussy.

I secretly spied on them and the girl next to them who was their complete opposite–so afraid and almost ashamed of her body, she did that whole change up thing where no one can see anything–holding her clothing clutched so tight to her body–afraid that someone might be spying on her. The other two standing naked laughing and chatting it up, moving around her like she is invisible. The brunette has a nice round ass, I wanted to spank it–snap a towel at it. Her bush full and big, I would have to search to find her lips, but it was trimmed, maybe her lips are hair free, I could not tell from this vantage point. Her friend, the blond, had a cute hourglass figure, small tits, cute belly and yes–full bush. I love seeing women pull their jeans up, the way their ass is the last to pop in and stretch the fabric to its fullest capacity with round ripe cheeks of flesh.

I continue to get myself ready, pulling on my own tight skirt feeling the way my own ass bounces into the fabric. Free, I don’t hide my body in the locker room, my tits full and falling, spilling–not at all like the woman still trying to get dressed by hiding behind each layer of fabric. Christ if I has her body, I would be waving my tiny tits all over the place with authority and in no way shamed. Does she not know just how cute she is?

The two girls–the bush girls–have moved down a bit and are slowly getting dressed, standing there in just their jeans–the brunette has her bra on. The blond is telling her about her dance class, as she begins to do this routine. I think she is just playing around and going to stop, but no–she does the entire dance routine there in the locker room in her jeans and no bra. I can’t take eyes off of her. The dance is like a mix of hip-hop meets cheer leading, a typical sort of white girl taking a dance class kind of routine. I smile and laugh a little as I continue my sly glances. I figure she wants me to watch her, why else would a woman dance around in the locker room if she did not want to be looked at? By the end of her routine, I am ready to roll.

All my ogling has made me late for my meeting with the Good Vibrations film crew. Yes, it is that time of year again, time to make our film for consideration into this years festival and this year we are doing it about Ashley, that fucking Ashely. Who is no longer a girl, but a noun–my yoga fantasy woman with the  perfect ripe ass. If there is any perfect round ripe ass reading this that wants to star in a low budget erotic film, hit me up. Actually we need a lot of help, if anyone is interested in assisting us in the many ways we need assistance–please drop me an email–but especially if you a have round ripe ass.

Wow and wow…

I had the best massage last night, unlike any I have ever had before.

Post hot yoga, waiting for the adorable Cy to come find me for my deep tissue massage. I had changed into dry clothing, but did put a bra or  panties on, so I felt a bit uncomfortable standing there, sort of naked but not.

He comes out, we chat, he asks me what my problem is, I start to answer…

“Don’t answer.  That is not a question for me.”

Okay?

He then ask a series of strange question, my least favorite color, if I was an animal what kind of animal would I be, how do you breath?

Okay?

We get into his little room, ahhh such soothing aura–soft orange light, candles. He tells me to undress to my comfort level, get under the sheet face down and he will return momentarily. I stripped to nothing, and slid my still warmed from yoga, freshly waxed pussy under the sheet.

He came back–demonstrated for me how to breath, then said..

“I have something for you.”

He began to pour a mixture of oil– the smell fire and chocolate filled the room, it made me instantly melt to the table, to the floor.

His hands begin to work. His strength apparent with zero hesitation. I continue to concentrate on relaxing (is that possible?) and on answering (in my head) the questions he continues to ask, but  doesn’t want hear the answers to.

“what do you want  and how are you going to get it?”

Like I said–zero hesitation, his hand knead my ass, my thighs, for what seem like over and hour he bends, twists, compress every part of my body, it hurts and feels so right at the same time. He climbs all around me, on the table, laying on top of me, kneeling here and there, standing above me, he bends my legs up then sits on the bottom of my feet. Yeah right? It felt fucking amazing, while there his hand stretching across the landscape of my body stretching it beyond it’s capability and them some. He lifts me off the mattress, twisting me like a rag doll, left then right. My body creeks and pops in sweet agony and ecstasy. As he works my neck and shoulders his hands begin to work into my hair. He is like an animal he yanks my hair band out, and wraps  and tangles his fingers into my hair, pulling–tender and rough simultaneously. fuccckkkkk my pussy melts as he pulls on my hair into an animal tail, straightening my neck while doing so.

He works every part of my body, my feet, ankles, hands, fingers, toes, ass, thighs. Zero hesitation. It felt like we were having sex, if his cock entered me in anyway, anywhere it might have just been part of the massage, it would have just felt that natural. Of course, my mind drifted, many times, into him sliding his cock into my mouth into my pussy while he lay straddle on top of me.  His pendants,  beads and long dreadlocks  drag across my back sending electric waves through my body, his breath strong–appears to run the length of my spine filling me with his energy. His cock, I imagined  hard, massaged it’s way across my frame as an extension of his hands. Our bodies at times, tangled and entwined, but separate, still–body to healer.

I feel great release. I think we are done.

“are you ready to flip over?”

Fuck yeah I am!

When I turn it feels like a wave of fluid or absolution of my body comes out. I begin to laugh, the same exact laugh that I do when I have an amazing orgasm, uncontrollable, free, sexy, me. I can feel his smile

His hands begin their exploration of my lower body, stretching my legs and thighs, and hips. My joints rotating as his will. My body pops dynamic sparks with each pull and proliferation of my limbs. His palms so close to my full mound–now full of life, even my pussy is breathing.

He come close to my ear and whispers…

“I’ll give you a choice… A, B, or C?”

Silence no explanation.  I choose B. He moves to the top of the table, again an amazing hair pull massage, to my face, shoulders, breast bone, breasts, belly. His hand heavy on my belly like he is trying to understand me. I get flash in my mind of a traditional Art History concept of  Ram horns  equating to fallopian tubes, his hands seem to reach inside, feeling for my fallopian tubes, for my uterus. Pressing straightening, trying to somehow know me through my body. I know that sounds so strange, but that is what it felt like.

Again, what seems to be like hours he massage my front. His strong hands always coming so close to kneading my pussy, but not quite. My breast and belly are loving his hands. I tell him his hands are like fire. They seem to spark and heat my flesh at every point he touches. And I cannot believe I just said that.

As he finishes he hovers over me, breathing deeply and forcefully, placing his forehead to mine, and breaths. Rising he runs his hands across my body and pronounces..

“you are alive.”

He tells me to take my time, to come back to my body and that he will meet me out front.

And I feel it, I feel the same exact euphoria of having had great, hot connected sex and my body is relaxed, stretched and limber.

Stumbling back to reality, I breath, rise, and get dressed.

Out front he tells me I should seriously consider changing my name to Pink Rabbit, I give him a $20 tip and he gives me a giant bear of hug, too long, not letting go, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Yes, I know it is–yoga, Cali, weird massage guy strangeness, but DAMN! that was the best massage ever!

I had an insane busy week and weekend, too much work to attend to, I denied my self of pleasure for most of it. That is why when I did arrange to meet my date, I really had no intentions of sitting through a movie, dinner, drinks, “get to know you better” chit chat. I only wanted one thing. I was ready to go straight to his place with no questions asked. Urgent.

We arrive, I like it. It is similar to an old elaborate hotel, the kind of place that is anonymous with a certain freedom to it. We ascend the flights, I raise my skirt, hands slip between thighs.

Once in you ask me to remove my full length stockings that prevented entry earlier. I do, but leave the rest of my clothing on. I follow into the kitchen where you are pouring us a glass of wine. No sooner do we have our first sip when you begin to raise my skirt. My cunt is such an eager one, that your fingers easily get lost. You tweak my clit with one finger while filling me with the others. My hips rise into you, onto fingers, both of my legs off the floor wrapped around your body, fingers working deeper, rocking on your hand, while my arm strength holds my body up on the white tiled counter top, balancing, swaying, pushing my pussy further into your fingers grabbing them pulling them in. Bucking on your hand. “Does your pussy like that?” I moan may answer– “what do you think; does it feel like my pussy likes it?” My legs never touching the floor I can feel your cocks strength pressing into my thigh, as they enfold around your body.

Moving to the living room, I undress for you, skirt and top, fall to the floor. Standing there I gaze at my self in the mirror opposite the bed. It has been awhile since I looked at myself in such a large mirror. I like the way I look, not plastic, not perfect, soft, curves, belly, tits, round ass. This mirror makes me look good. I am wearing “take me” panties a bra, knowing that my mission was to fuck. They look vintage. Panties cut high on the thigh, sheer white with contrasting black diagonal stripes directed toward my cunt, accentuating my ass, a thick black band of lace around the top and legs, the bra matches with a simple black on black stripe, my tits look full ready to come out ready to be taken hold of, caressed, kissed, sucked, pulled, tugged, and bitten on.

Grabbing me from behind, in the mirror I can see your hands explore my body, it is hot and making me slightly week in the knees. We move to the couch. Your clothing has got to go. I want to feel skin, lips, chest, cock.

Naked. You sit back down as I lower myself between your knees and begin my love of cock. You’re smooth, groomed, sleek and rock solid. Our beat flows, my head bobs.

To the floor. I straddle your face, reverse cowgirl. Flow of cadence dribbles from between my thighs. I stroke and suck your dick, but mostly enjoy the ride.

You pull out the box from under your bed. Various condoms. By now I am so ready, like an animal. I think to myself, I sure hope this man knows what he is in for. I am worked, bent ready to fuck, not be fucked.

Seated on the couch I slide condom number one on. Slide in. I grind, deep. My cunt is more of an insatiable vortex than normal. My grind increases to a bucking. I swallow you and the condom.

Condom number two. I drop my lips around your throb get your sleek, slicked. I slide the thin film of protection on, turn so my ass is facing your view, then lower my pussy. I drive and lift, drive and lift. Balancing, my strong thighs utilizing all their yoga practice. With each rise I clinch and pull your dick up with me and squeeze as I go back down. My pussy is throbbing, but I am not ready to cum yet.

We move to the bed, the mirror. I sort of have forgotten about the mirror. You want me ride you, which I love. I tend to get over zealous in my lusty ways and have known to sex out my partners. It makes me feel like a wild slutress. I end up grinding your skinny ass into your bed. Abruptly you stop me, broken condom. What an animal.

We rest. Sex talk.

Condom number three. You are ready to take me. From behind you pull my ass up, and begin to plunge. I recall the mirror. “Are you watching us in the mirror?” I ask. “Of course.” We scoot back some so I too can watch our carnality in motion. Again I am mesmerized by the reflection of myself. It is as if, it is not me. My ass plundering into your cock looks so voluptuous, hot and sexy. It is strange, I am having an out of body experience looking at my body fucking you, and it is not me, I don’t recognize this body, this bent, ass up, pleasured body. It is like porn only better, real, it’s me. Looking at myself fucking is making me want to cum–almost.

You reach around with one hand and grab my tits, giving them a firm slap, with your other hand slapping on my ass, all while still riding into my cunt, all for our viewing pleasure in your big mirror. It is a nice view. Both hands reach around to grasp hold of my full breasts as you pull me, meeting each thrust, I feel that loss of sense, whatever was left of me, of my mind, is now floating above the room, the sounds of our bodies slapping together mixed with my moans and pants of wantonness, drown out the music– the thoughts. I am filled, I cum, my pussy exudes around rigidness. I need a break. I collapse to the bed, you still on top of me. Loving me in this moment in time and space.

Condom number four. Time for rest is over, I want to make you cum, I want to cum again. I sit on you, your legs ontop of my, legs tangled, I gain a vast amount of energy, we become visceral together–are bodies, in measure, a violent thrusting concerto. I am pleased you let me fuck you like this, rough, angry, energetic. Again, my yoga pays off as my legs seem to be supporting both of us as you thrust up and I drive down. Fuck clash of body parts. I am clutching around your back pulling you into me, pounding at one another. You finally become vocal, growling, gasping at my ass. I seize tighter with limbs and with cunt. My body begins to seize, you take possession and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. My legs buckling underneath us, as we both cum. We crumple, give way to the animals. My legs, body, pussy are shaking, my heart racing, drenched, your cock diminishing inside me. I lay there writhing in my elation, not able to stop my body from its internal trembling. Moments must pass before I reenter my body and become me again, before that agitation of mind and body settle.

You ask my name, I tell you something, a name I like that day. You ask for my phone number. I shrug, roll off, get dressed and slink away into San Francisco night. I wonder when will I become me again, or is this me.

originally published 3/10/09

I went to hot yoga this morning. Some of you may have read my past accounts of yoga, I am not really a yoga kind of girl, but I am really making an effort to make this practice work for me. Stay focused, concentrate, and work every pose to my best ability. My main problem is my mind. I am drifter, always have been. I have, for the most part, gotten in control of the outside forces. You know…by not bringing everything from the outside world into the yoga room, but once in awhile I still catch myself thinking about other things, mostly sexual (no surprise). My problem now is the inside forces of the room. Namely Ashley (a reoccurring problem). She has not been there in awhile, which is why I have been doing so good, all my focus has been on Yoga (or hot surfer boy Peter, but I can pull my mind away from him). But Ashley, she fucks with me in the best, worst possible way.

She was late today, so I could not help but notice her enter the room (of course I could not have helped even if she was on time). Everything about her drives me absolutely nuts, the sound of voice, that youthful innocence she still holds. I want to break her. I want to do absolutely–humiliating, degrading, sensual, love her, fuck with her, spank her (hard with various object), kind of things. Today she was in all black, the smallest tightest, up her ass and cunt shorts, with rip in the crotch (fucking bloody hell), and an equally as small sports bra with her nipples pointing right at me. God damn her body, she is probably 5’5”, voluptuous, not overly skinny in any way, her thighs are like solid mass of flesh, strong, muscular, tanned, dipping down to her shapely calves and into delicate perfect hot pink toes. Her ass, like two pieces of ripe fruit ready for my succulent bite, handling and abuse. Her belly, soft and firm at once, like the softest pillow you ever took a nap on, decorated with a hanging rhinestone charmed belly button ring, trashy and hot, and it all moves up to her hourglass shape (hot bitch). I can only imagine her pussy, and I do—way too much, it is probably waxed to perfection, with nice sized, full, triangle soul patch, sweet, plump pussy. Her breast, oh my gawd, I want to slam my head into the desk thinking about them. Big, but not huge, I am sure they are tanned too, probably with brownish nipples, of medium size. I want pinch them so hard she yelps and squirms. She wears her hair bunched in a messy bun on top of her head, ringlets falling and framing her face, which has timeless look, it’s not perfect, her nose is off, I love it. I love a distinct nose, on men I love the broken nose look, on women, well–I like Ashley’s.

I want to persuade her to my place, and then lock her away and make her mine. I want her to clean my apartment, do my laundry; if I had a cat she would definitely be cleaning out the litter box, all of this in very little clothing. I want make her do horrible dirty things. Dress her in ridiculously hot confining fuck wear. I want to tie her eagle spread to my bed so I can taste how sweet her pussy really is. I want see what she look like when she cums. I want to take pictures of her in all her forms, high, low, humiliated, cumming, her head between my thighs, her own fingers in her cunt, you name I need a photograph of it. I want her to plead for me to smack her ass. I want to strap a collar on her perfect long neck and naked body and then make her kneel Japanese style for hours on the hardwood floor, just for my viewing pleasure. When I am bored of that position I will have her get on all fours, ass up head down to the floor. And of course that would make me want to fuck her, so I would have to dig out the strap on, which I have only used on those oh so special bend over boyfriend, but I want fuck fuck fuck Ashely, until we both see those stars. I want to slide my fingers into her, feel the way her flesh surrounds me, I want her to cum all over my hand, like a slut that never thought she would cum be means of another woman. I want to feel her tongue lap at my pussy, she will have no choice but to make me cum, but I think she will want to, especially after I have fucked and made her cum so well. She will in it covered in my soak. She will be begging to allow her to make me cum.

Fucking Ashley. God Damn it!

I started practicing hot yoga about a year ago, because I’m a notoriously unfocused kind of girl, so I thought I’d give it a try. You know focus–get some mental and spiritual awareness. The teachers guide you through the moves, with words of encouragement such as “rid your self of all thoughts, don’t talk to yourself, don’t let that chatter in, focus, focus, focus, release yourself of outside forces.” As she says this, my mind is fluttering full of nonsense, I tell it to stop. I say focus, focus. Telling my mind to shut the fuck up, and then all of a sudden I am having a full on conversation to myself in my head about how I cannot stop talking to myself.

Much, ok– most of the time, my deviant little mind shifts to thoughts of sex. Either sex I just recently had, or the sex I would like to have, or what sex would be like with some of the people in class, like with Mr. Treasure Trail or with Mr. Knee Injury. Well—you can imagine what 90 minutes of sweating, contortion, and mind wandering will do to a girl. I am lusty, hot, loose, and fucking so horny after yoga.

I often trip into thinking about just jumping on Mr. Treasure Trail right there. While the yoga students watch us fuck–as the sweat and tension builds. Perhaps we even start a fuck riot and every one just starts fucking and slipping all over each other in the immense heat of the tiny studio. Our tongues and bodies unrestricted and rhythmic like a yoga flow. Hands and legs gliding over the moisture of our sweat–cock and cunts growing full. We are all so loose and free and Mr. Treasure Trail slides his finger into me. While Mr. Knee Injury, forgets he is injured as he crawls across the floor and takes my tits in his mouth, like he hasn’t eaten days. The three of us sliding into a wet, hot mass of flesh, while eyes watch and hands play.

Mr. Knee Injury lays me down across his lap, I feel his stiff dick pressing into the back of my neck. Mr. Treasure Trail’s finger are slipping into my pussy. Mr. Knee joins in, as he continues to massage my rounded breasts, pushing them together sucking and biting, periodically sliding his fingers toward my cunt, where I now feel multiple finger exploring every fold. Unfolding.

Mr. Treasure Trail can take it no longer and dives for my now oozing pussy and begins to eat greedily, drinking and lapping every drop of my succulent spring flow. Overflow. My hips are bucking and rocking off the floor, colliding into his face. Mr. Knee is beginning to stroke his rock hard cock closer and closer to my lips. My eager hot mouth cannot wait, I grasp him with my two hands and begin to suck him down, so greedy, so focused on cock. My pussy is exploding beneath Mr. Treasure Trail’s mouth, I am cumming all over his chin and he just laps it up with bull dog determination. Twitching and ramming into him, I let loose of long thrusting spasm orgasm, full of sound, salaciousness, and moans fit for an animal. He lifts his face from between my thighs and is dripping and glistening in my juice. He vigorously pulls my pussy up on to his huge cock and begins to propel his hard focused yoga energy into me. I can hear the teacher saying “breath though your nose,” I have no choice, because Mr. Knee, is filling my cheeks and throat with his throbbing cock. I am filled from top to bottom. Each thrust pushed into to me simultaneously, making me a quivering whimpering mess of sexual focus.

I can feel both of their cocks jerking inside of me, ready to blow. Mr. Knee is thrusting deeper into my throat and concurrently mashing my tits, pinching the nipples, pulling them to pink. Mr. Treasure is beating my soaked pussy with his monster cock. My body is ready to ignite. We are lost, focused only on how gratifying, pleasurable, wet, full, ripe, and right it all feels. Mr. Treasure is pushing on my belly as he thrust into me, making my cunt clinch and grab his cock even tighter inside me. Mr. Knee has slowed his cadence and is straddling my face deliberately pushing into my throat as far as he can. I am about to cum again; my body tenses, my breathy pants grow raucous, and I pull inward bringing Mr. Treasure with me. As I cum my mouth drops open Mr. Knee pulls out and strokes his delectable shaft over my body, with a rub of his thumb on his tip he erupts onto my tits and belly. I am all covered in white goo, watching his face go from tight to free. Just then Mr. Treasure wrenches my ass up to him and plunges as deep as possible causing me to release a gasp, and he cums so deep inside me I can taste it. All three of collapse in heaping sweaty mess of yoga sex funk. As all eyes in the room are transfixed, cocks hard, pussy dripping. Focused.

It has been two days of straight rain, a good day to go get heated up in small 110* room with 20 other sweaty bodies. I roll the mat out in my usual spot not many people there yet, lots of space. Then in walks “Ashley,” She surveys the room and then rolls her mat right next to mine. Ashley is quite distracting to me, not good when I am there to focus. She is maybe, MAYBE, 22 and just stunningly pleasing to the eye. She has a face that is kind of off, her nose a bit long, I love it; it adds so much character. Her neck is elongated and leads strikingly into her remarkable body, her ass is the perfect roundness, I just wanted to reach over and spank it and it leads to her equally nice thighs, which are not skinny, but voluptuous, they match her ass. Her mid-drift is quite pleasing too, the belly area is not all tight and over worked, but lean with softness and of course she dons simple navel ring. She has this all over brown skin, no doubt from a tanning booth, but looks hot nonetheless. Today she was wearing a black sports bra confining and squishing her rather large sized breasts and tiny loose fitting, green (my favorite color) racing shorts with stripes up the side. I am already thinking that I am going to be able to see right up those loose fitting shorts and the mental distraction begins.

I drift into thoughts of what Ashley might smell like, what she would sound like while being fucked—would she moan, pant, whimper, maybe she’s a screamer. I bet she would look so hot in a confining yoga pose all tied down and tied up, strewn on my big bed. I wonder what she tastes like. I wonder if she has tasted another woman on her lips before. I think to myself, where are these thoughts coming from, I am here to focus, meditate. Her navel ring glints a sparkle to my eye, her belly so soft, her ass so round. God to be 22 again.

We begin our series; I instantly get reprimanded for not having the proper focus. I try to snap my mind into where it needs to be, and it remains there for awhile too. We are all working hard getting exceedingly wet from the heat and sweat. Then it is time for the standing bow pose, which I am pretty good at, if it were not for Ashley’s perfect physique taunting me. In this pose the leg is pulled up, back and then toward the head with one arm and the opposite arm outstretched toward the front and then you charge your body forward with leg kicking up in the back toward y our head. This is when I could absolutely not control my fixation of Ashley. I glanced over her browned thighs glistening with sweat, as drips off, forming a pool at her pink toenails. I try not to, but I am weak, I follow the curve of her thigh up higher, to that ass, ohh that ass. Of course as I had suspected I could see right into those lose fitting shorts straight to the honey pot. It was shadowed and I think there were panties, but it was hard to really tell because of the way the silhouette fell from her thigh onto her pussy. I am all lost in Ashley, then all of sudden, again, I am being scolded for my improper posture and lack of discipline. Boy, if yoga master only knew my true lack of discipline.