In and Out

I take my place on the yoga mat, digging my toes into the soft foam. After my doctor told me I needed some stress relief, and “perhaps some exercise”, I thought it easy enough, so I joined a gym. And after a terrible spill from the treadmill, only made bearable by the strapping young man who aided me, I decided running wasn’t for me. Although there may be something to be said about meeting men at the gym. That’s all the stress relief and exercise I need, if you know what I mean.

My doctor didn’t agree though and recommended meditation, so I went to this place, highly recommended by a friend, and they had me just sit and breathe. The goal was “to let your mind free of all the stress you’re holding.” Five minutes in, I got so antsy, just sitting there, doing nothing but breathing; I knew meditation wouldn’t work, either. I left somewhere around minute seven.

So, here I am at yoga and so far, it’s been good, although I’ve only been twice. The first had been simple enough, and I felt quite good afterward, so a second attempt seemed like a no brainer. Now, at the third, I’m stretching my legs out in front of me when the instructor walks in.

Immediately, I note it’s not the same one from last week. No, if it was, I would have taken up yoga years ago. The last two weeks, the yogi -so I hear they’re called- was a petite blond with small breasts and a perky smile. This one is tall and toned, with dark hair. And most definitely male. Like the type of male that makes unsuspecting women’s panties fall off. I can feel mine slipping already.

I can also tell I’m not the only one to notice him. The room falls silent as collectively we all hold our breath.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Andre, and I’ll be filling in for Sara today. Just like she does, I will come around and help each of you get into proper form, so if anyone has any issue with physical contact, please let me know now.”

I look around, but nope, no one is going to say anything. Last week, two ladies both said “no, thanks,” but this week with Andre, they’re all in. A few women look like they’re ready to do whatever it takes to get to him first. I may be one.

“I’ll begin at the front, and show you how to get into each pose, and then while you’re holding, I’ll give you some tips. Let’s begin.”

Andre walks to the front of the room, the light from the floor to ceiling windows marking his form in silhouette. It does nothing to diminish his appeal. Even in shadow, the definition of his arms and torso are well defined. Too defined. His jaw is chiseled, his shoulders broad, waist narrow. I catch myself staring at his crotch, and clear my throat, looking away hastily.

“Okay, ladies, let’s start with a deep breath. Arms up and breathe in, through your nose, and hold, for four, three, two, and one. Hands to heart center as you breathe out.” As a well-oiled machine, we all practice the movement in sync, like we are marionettes, and he holds the strings.

“Now, close your eyes and keep breathing.”

***

The last pose is a tree pose, and as I place my right foot on my left thigh with the help of my hand, standing tall, Andre comes up behind me. I manage to stay composed and balanced when his palm presses against my abdomen. “Pull your belly in.” But then, I totter as his pinky and thumb glide over my fluttering tummy as he spreads out his hand. Then his other presses on the top of my back, forcing me steady. “Straighten your back. Yes. Very Nice.” His voice is almost a purr, and the thin material of my G-string moistens.

Andre steps in front of me, grasping my upper arms on each side. “Pull your shoulders back. You sit at a computer all day, I can tell. Your upper back is rounded, but we’ll fix that.” His palms sear me through the fabric of my thin top. “Pull your head up. Lower your chin.” His finger tucks under my chin, his thumb grasping it. “Hmmm. Perfect.” His eyes bore into mine, and I notice how blue they are, like glaciers afloat in the North Atlantic, but hot and intense, like he’s reading my soul. I moisten my lips and his gaze follows the trail of my tongue, his nostrils flaring. The timbre of his voice lowers to a mere whisper. “Hold it until your leg begins to shake. Then do it again, on the other side. I’ll be watching. Don’t forget to breathe.”

***

For a cool down, Andre has us lie on our backs, and practice our breathing. I hold in the groan at this mediocre task, but do as he says, just so I can listen to him a little while longer. Laying supine, he instructs us to close our eyes, focusing on our breath, in and out, like waves of the ocean. “The wave rolls in, the surf expanding across the surface of the shore, before receding, disappearing back into the sea. Relax your toes, your legs, your hips. Soften your belly, your rib cage, your lungs. Wiggle your fingers, let them curl and find a comfortable resting place. Now relax your elbows and shoulders. Lastly, your neck, your throat and finally, your head. Surrender yourself to your breaths, in and out. In and out, in and out.”

I focus on the supposed-soothing sound of my breath, beginning to feel heavy. The echoes of numerous breaths fade away.

I open my eyes with a start, suddenly aware that I am not, in fact, falling. The sudden brightness of the room makes me squint and I turn my head, finding myself still it the yoga studio. I must have fallen asleep. The mats are all rolled up, and I am the only one here. Except for Andre. He’s leaning against a support beam a few steps from me, legs crossed and a small smile lighting his face.

“I am so sorry,” I say, standing suddenly, my embarrassment reddening my cheeks.

“No need. You must have needed it. It’s good you took it. I knew you were tense as soon as I first saw you. Too much work, and no play. You know what they say about that, don’t you?”

I swallow at the intended insult. “Yeah, well. I’ll be going. Sorry again.” I attempt to walk by him, taking my embarrassment with me, but he steps in my way, stopping me in my tracks. His body is much larger than mine, domineering, yet not intimidating.

“I don’t think there’s a dull thing about you. You just need someone or something to help you relax a bit.” I know he’s flirting with me, but I’m still embarrassed, so I ask haughtily, “Are you trying to get me to sign up for private lessons or something?”

His smile turns mischievous. “Hmmm. That’s not a bad idea, but I was thinking of something more amorous.” The way the word drips from his lips fills my head with visions of all things sin and my gaze shoots to his lips to see if it tasted as good as it sounded. That only makes me wonder if he tastes as good as he sounds.

His hand comes up and sweeps a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Uh, well. I’m, um, supposed to be practicing meditation and getting some exercise. Do you think you could help me with that?” My voice sounds unfamiliar. Throaty and breathless, like I’ve just ran a race and can see the world tallest drink of water before me. Oh, that’s right, I can.

“I can definitely help with that,” Andre begins, taking a step closer. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and he’s pulling it over my head before I can do more than raise my arms. “For meditation,” he continues, dropping to his knees before me. “You’ll need a mantra. I think, ‘oh, my god, I’m going to cum,’ would be an excellent choice.” His flattened hands slide up my sides and shimmy under my sports bra, lifting it brusquely.

Andre’s smile widens as my breasts spill out, bouncing invitingly into his waiting hands. “And as for the exercise portion, I’ll make sure you sweat, don’t worry about that.” And then, he leans forward and takes my nipple into his mouth, grating his teeth over the sensitive flesh, until all the hairs on my arms are standing on end.

“I only have one problem with your recommendations.” I say, attempting but failing miserably to put more genuine concern and less wanton moan into my words of negotiation. He releases my nipple with an audible pop, then looks up at me expectantly. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I finish with bravado I don’t feel.

With a practiced ease, he’s nude before me in all his glory. An Adonis in the flesh, Andre’s abs are stacked, his pecs well formed, and he has that delicious “V” that makes smart women (and not a few men) act dumb. And like the arrow it is, it points directly to his most impressive package, which is pointed back at me, looking scrumptious. My mouth waters and I move instinctively.

Without a word, I’m on my knees, crawling closer to him so I can take him in hand. I stroke his length once, then twice, before leaning forward and swirling my tongue over the crown of his cock. Andre’s legs stiffen as he hisses at the contact. Then his hands are in my hair, directing me with every thrust.

He sinks as deep as he can go, then tells me, “Suck, hard.” I hollow my cheeks and look up at him and find him staring back at me. Fire dances in his eyes, lust, hot and fierce hoods his lids, but his mouth is slack with pleasure as I slurp and sip, siphoning his nectar.

His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he releases a moan. His hips gyrate as he pumps into my throat, further with each pass. I put my all into it, giving up on watching his reactions and just focusing on doing a damn good job. I swallow around him, and he rewards me with a… snore?

The not-sexy noise comes again, and I open my eyes. I’m on my back, the mat beneath me. Andre is above me, looking down at me, arms crossed, a slight smile on his lips.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty. I hope you rested well.”

***

Header image for In and Out found on Shutterstock

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More Mmm’s can be found by licking the lips.

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