The Yoga Instructor

I spent much longer getting ready for that lesson than I ever have for any class in my life ever before.

I knew a little bit about what was coming -- based on what my best friend, Elaine, had told me. Elaine and I had been attending the same yoga studio together for two years, and although all the instructors there were amazing, we each had a soft spot for Jonah, the tall, lean (and extremely attractive) Vinyasa and Nidra teacher. We'd both been attending his thrice-weekly classes regularly, and a couple of months ago, Elaine had booked Jonah for a private lesson.

When we'd met for coffee to catch up -- and this was two days after her lesson, mind you -- Elaine looked like she'd just tumbled out of bed: sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks, messed-up hair.

"What's Ryan been doing to you?" I'd demanded when I saw her, and we both laughed; it was a running joke between us how we'd have to dress up like a spreadsheet to get either one of our data-geek husbands to look at us twice.

Elaine got an impish look on her face. "It's what I've been doing to me ... well, Jonah," she admitted, blushing a little bit. "God, Anna, that session with him ... you have to do one. You have to."

"Did he fuck you?" I asked, my interest immediately piqued.

"I wish," she sighed, "but it was almost better."

What could be better than fucking? I wondered.

"Good enough that you're still thinking about it, two days later," I said, probing. Elaine just smiled.

"Have him come up to the ranch. You'll see," she said.

So I'd thought about it, decided to do it, decided not to do it, and finally called Jonah and asked him for two hours of his time -- which was expensive, but if he was as good as Elaine was intimating, it'd be worth it. I took her advice and asked him to come visit me at our mountain home; it wasn't really a ranch, just an isolated house nestled in a lovely meadow of grass and no neighbors in sight for miles.

Jonah found it okay; he pulled up in his VW bus just as I had finished getting ready -- and that, as I mentioned earlier, took forever. I must have tried on and decided against a half-dozen outfits before finally pulling on a tie-dyed tank top over my sports bra, along with a tiny pair of shorts.

He looked luscious. He had his shirt off; his tanned torso rippled with lean muscle, and he smiled his genuine Jonah smile at me, blue eyes shining, his two little canine teeth slightly offset in his mouth. It gave him a charming, quite seductive air.

"How are you today, Anna?" he asked, looking delighted to see me. He air-kissed each cheek in the European style and winked at me.

"I'm great!" I enthused. "Really looking forward to this lesson. Elaine said she loved hers."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Jonah responded. His voice was deep and smooth, and always sounded super earnest. Sometimes I imagined him speaking in my ear, directing me, when I played with my pussy at night before Rich came to bed. "What would you like to work on today, Anna? Anything special?"

This caught me off guard; I'd been hoping he'd pick up the hint and do with me whatever it was he'd done with Elaine that had her so worked up.

"Well, Elaine said you did such a nice job with her private session -- I know we're at different levels, but maybe you could help me, too?"

"Sure!" I thought I'd seen some heat rise in those lovely cheekbones, but wasn't certain. "I think it's always important to work on mula bandha in yoga, whatever level you're at. Actually, you might find that your advanced practice deepens even more when you start returning to the basics."

I started to see where this was going, and heat rushed over me that had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun.

"So what we'll be doing today is working on your root core, the foundation for all your movement in yoga," he explained. "What did Elaine tell you about the session?" he asked.

"Almost nothing," I replied, truthfully. "Just that it was amazing and I should try it."

He did blush this time, and it was adorable. God, I wanted to jump him! "Well ... Elaine's pretty uninhibited. There are adjustments and guidance I can give you through the session, but those will depend on how comfortable you feel."

"Okay," I said, a little nervously.

He smiled at me encouragingly. "We'll just go one level at a time. I'll let you know what I'm doing before I do it and make sure you're feeling comfortable with it. Sound okay?"

I'd composed myself while Jonah had been speaking and smiled back, brightly. "Perfect!" I said.

"Great!" he enthused back at me. "So where do you want to do this?"

I shrugged. "Why not out there?" I gestured toward the back of the house, where the ground was relatively flat and the grass had been mown.

His eyes gleamed. "Sure," he said, not seeming concerned at all about potential neighbors.

We walked back there, and I laid down my mat on the grass, then stood next to it, looking up at Jonah. I only came up to his nipples.

"The first thing is going to be something you decide before you even come to the mat to practice," Jonah said, in what I thought of as his teacher-voice -- even smoother, richer and deeper than his ordinary voice. I shivered with delight. "If you can take off your clothes," he continued, "then I can see what's happening in your alignment and your concentration in a deeper way."

"All of them?" I asked, hardly daring to believe my luck.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he offered in a soothing voice.

I smiled and peeled off my tank top; he watched me, a little smile on his lips, breathing deeply. Slipping my thumbs into my shorts, I pulled them down and stepped out of them. The sports bra was next, and Jonah's serene expression didn't change when my tits bounced loose from their constraints, my nipples standing out firmly. My little thong panties were the last to go; I skimmed them down my thighs, pulled them off my toe, and dropped the pile of clothes by the deck. The afternoon summer sun beat down on both of us, bathing everything in a golden glow. I basked in it, loving the feel of it on my bare skin.

"Beautiful," Jonah breathed. "Now come to the top of your mat in mountain pose."

I did as he instructed, aligning my feet, my arms by my side, eyes forward.

He watched me, examining my posture, then said, "I know you're usually fine with adjustments in class, Anna, but I want to check in and make sure it's okay if I put my hands on you."

"Of course," I said, admiring how well I kept the excitement out of my voice.

He placed one hand on my belly, just above the small landing strip I kept above my shaved pussy, and the other on my ass, fingers pointing down. "Mula means root, or foundation," he said, "and bandha is posture, or bondage. Yogis also refer to it as the root lock. It's the foundation of a safe practice, especially when you start to get more advanced, like you have been." He smiled at me. He smelled like patchouli and sunshine, his blonde hair curling over his chest and stretching down his belly, into his strange tie-around pants he probably got at the co-op downtown.

I felt my heart pounding, and my cunt throbbed again, insistently.

"The root chakra is at the base of your torso," he continued, indicating with his fingers. I nodded, not wanting to speak. "When you practice, you want to ensure you're engaging a specific muscle inside of you." Jonah paused. He was so close, hands just resting lightly on me, and I stifled a whimper; I was so turned on.

It was as if he'd read my mind. "This will be easier to show you than tell you about," he said in that same smooth voice. "I'll have to put my fingers inside you, though. Is that okay?"

"Yes," I whispered. "That's okay."

"Straddle your mat," he instructed me. I placed my feet on either side of the mat, and Jonah came to stand behind me and slightly to the left, so he could slide his right hand between my legs. I thought I heard a soft sound of appreciation escape him when his fingers encountered my smoothly shaved (and extremely slippery folds), crowned with my pulsing, aching clit.

He slipped one long finger inside my cunt, and this time I couldn't hold back the gasp. His luscious lips parted in a wider smile, and he used his thumb to massage the pucker of my ass, coating it with the juice that was dripping from my pussy. I managed to stop myself from moaning, but I was breathing in sharp, little gasps.

Jonah corrected that. "Slow down your breathing," he advised me. "In ... and out ... in ... and out ..." I relaxed, and he slipped his thumb inside my ass, stroking it in and out a few times before he pushed his thumb and fingers as far inside me as they would go.

"Excellent. Now, how do you normally engage a root lock? Can you show me?"

I couldn't believe that my yoga instructor's hand was stuffed inside me, yet he was talking to me like this was an everyday lesson. Something about the contrast was making this whole experience incredibly erotic, and I knew Jonah could tell exactly how much I was enjoying it. I took another deep breath, concentrating, and flexed a muscle inside me.

"Oh, that's beautiful, Anna," he praised me. "You're engaging a little bit too much back here, though --" He wiggled his thumb in my ass. "Relax. It's all here ..." And he used his fingers to caress the back of my pussy. "Do you feel that?"

"Mmm-hmm," I managed, focusing my attention even more intently on my pussy and slowly trying to relax my ass.

"That's great," he murmured. "Perfect. Now close your legs."

He flattened his palm so I could, down on one knee behind me. "Let's see a sun salutation. I want you to concentrate on your root lock the whole time -- because I'm going to let you know if the pelvic floor isn't engaged."

It was so much harder than it seemed like it should be for so many reasons, not the least of which was the sheer distraction of Jonah's hand inside me -- not pumping, not twitching, but firm and still and strong. I wasn't sure how he could be keeping pace with me, but he must have done this before, because he seemed to know just where to be to keep his hand pressed to my cunt; it didn't slip out in the slightest.

And it was just plain physically difficult. Jonah's soft words coaxed and encouraged me, reminded me when my root lock wavered. Downward dog was especially hard, which Jonah said was common.

"Let's stay here for a few breaths," he suggested, and I agreed that sounded nice. The sun, the exercise and the situation were drawing droplets of glistening sweat to the surface of my skin. My heels were planted on the ground, and I hinged neatly at the hips, forming a perfect triangle with the ground. I felt the familiar sensation of the stretch up the backs of my legs mingle with the unfamiliar but oh-so-pleasurable feeling of Jonah's fingers encouraging me to keep my cunt engaged while I lost myself in the pose.

I knew it couldn't have been that long, but it felt like eternity, and each pose that followed felt the same way. I was in some kind of zone that I'd never reached before, and it was all flowing from the warmth and wetness at the core of my root, throbbing and pulsing and embracing Jonah's fingers.

"Wow, Anna," Jonah applauded after he'd guided me through a long series of Vinyasa asanas, brought me back to mountain pose, asked me to spread my legs again, and removed his hand, rubbing his forefinger over my clit before he fully withdrew. I was damp with sweat, and I could smell the scent of my juices in the air around me, despite the slight breeze.

"You've really gotten the hang of this," he added. "We still have an hour left -- I think I can take you even further than I have any of my students before!"

He sounded excited, and I was almost delirious with swimmy, dreamy pleasure -- and I hadn't even cum. It was like Jonah's fingers had taken me to another plane of existence; everything felt so wonderful -- the mat under my feet, the sun on my hair and my back, the air softly playing over my skin -- that I wasn't quite sure I could handle more.

But if Jonah thought I could go there, I would, I thought. "What's next?" I asked, panting softly.

"Next I'm going to get you some water and wash my hand," Jonah said, "if you can direct me to the kitchen."

It was just inside the sliding-glass patio doors, and Jonah was back before too long. I gulped the water, and when I was finished, I looked at Jonah expectantly.

"This is Tantric yoga, Anna," Jonah explained solemnly instead of answering directly. "It's a comprehensive practice. It's designed to reunite you with the feeling of oneness and connection with the universe. It's designed to remind you that you're pure energy. Sometimes in the Western world, we need a little help getting there. You've gone further in one lesson than I've been able to take a lot of my students in five, but I think I have a tool that can take it up even another notch, if you're willing."

He pulled out a blindfold. "If you can't see anything, can only listen to my voice and feel the movement with your body, it's a whole new experience, Anna. I promise."

I nodded. "Okay," I agreed. "I'll try it."

He secured the blindfold around my eyes. "Legs apart again." I did, working to engage my pelvis before he slipped his hand back inside me. But he took his time this time, sliding his fingers up and down my slit, rubbing my clit, exploring me. "The more aroused you are," he said conversationally, "the easier this next step will be. I hope you don't mind."

"N-no," I whimpered.

"Do you like it when I talk to you?" He laughed as my pussy spasmed against his fingers. "I'll take that as a yes. You have a beautiful cunt, Anna. Just gorgeous."

I moaned and tried to grind back against his hand.

"Root lock," he reminded me. I complied, concentrating, feeling his thumb slip back inside my ass.

He gave me the series he wanted me to do, sun salutation through the warriors, then to chair pose -- a familiar series he used frequently. "I'll remind you if you forget," he said, "but I want you to concentrate on the poses. Remember how you were feeling before we stopped. Lose yourself in it. Listen to my voice and follow the movement."

I nodded. "I'm ready."

He let me go at my pace, but somehow still kept up with me, and this time, his hand stroked and flexed and pumped while I moved. "You're so wet," he told me as I focused as intently as I could on the components of the exercise: my breathing, my alignment, my mula bandha. "My hand and most of my forearm is soaked," he continued. "Mmmm. Such a sweet, juicy pussy. You smell delicious, Anna."

As distracting as this all would have been a few minutes ago, for some reason, with the blindfold, it all seemed to mesh; I understood that yoga, like sex, was a celebration of life, so my sexual energy was charging this practice, and Jonah's words weren't vulgar in that context. They were insightful, an acknowledgement of what was. I felt totally full, not just of Jonah's fingers and thumb in my dripping cunt and my tight ass, but of sunlight and breezes and joy.

To call what followed an explosive orgasm almost doesn't do it justice. I'd lost sense of time even before it hit me, and I felt suspended in midair, floating on waves of delight, cries of satisfaction tearing from my throat. I think I even blacked out for a minute. Or maybe I saw God -- and can't remember it for the terrible wonder of the experience.

I came back to myself collapsed in a heap on the ground, Jonah's hand still inside me. Moaning softly, I pulled the blindfold off; his eyes looked just as glazed as I thought mine must have.

"Anna?" he asked, in a hesitant voice. "We're out of time. But ... can I ... can I eat your pussy?"

I gazed at him, my lips parted. "Really?"

"I won't charge you for it," he added, hastily.

"I should hope not," I giggled.

He laughed. "That came out badly," he acknowledged. "Is that okay?"

"Did you end your session with Elaine like this?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I've gotten a woman to cum doing yoga like that, yes, but ... not cum like that. You gushed all over my hand."

I blushed a rosy pink color he could see all over me. "Sorry, I would have warned you if I'd known ... that happens sometimes."

"Don't apologize. It was hot." Jonah grinned at me. "And please don't tell Elaine. She might feel slighted."

"I won't," I whispered.

He spread me out on my yoga mat, smiling down at me, drinking in the sight of my tight pink nipples, my swollen cunt, my trembling thighs, my flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. Then he positioned himself between my legs and started licking and nibbling on my pussy, twirling his tongue around my clit, sucking it gently. I squealed and writhed; he held me down with his hands, taking his time, tormenting me until I begged him to fuck me, or even use his fingers again, shamelessly.

He laughed. "I was hoping you'd say that," he admitted, lowering his pants. His cock, a solid eight inches, was hard and curved, ready for me, but he didn't let me have it yet; instead, he laid down on the mat, then pulled me on top of him, lowering my pussy on top of his face. Now he started devouring me, no more gentle licking and nibbling; I gasped and rotated my hips, grinding my cunt onto his mouth. He lashed at my clit with his tongue, licking and sucking, and I felt another tidal wave of bliss pull me under and spin me around, although not quite as intense as the last.

"You didn't squirt that time," he said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Good," I said, too spent to think about what I was saying.

"What?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Some guys get freaked out by that. It's not always fun and games."

"Anna," Jonah's voice had never been more Serious Yoga Teacher than it was now. "The ability to experience pleasure the way you can is a gift. Fuck any insecure boys who can't take it for that." He smiled, almost shyly. "I would love to share that with you again."

I eyed his erect -- indeed, throbbing -- cock and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Jump on," he replied.

I straddled his hips with mine, rubbing the tip of his shaft up and down my slit. It was slippery wet in no time. Gently, slowly, I lowered myself onto him, until he was buried in me to the hilt.

He held still as I worked him into me, then ground my pussy against his cock, circling my hips so his body stimulated my clit just so. I was still in the zone; I'd been focused intently on my cunt for hours now, and he slid easily inside me while I writhed on top of him.

Jonah reached up and cupped my breasts in his hands, squeezing my nipples, then twisting them slightly. I gasped and he grinned, feeling the jolt that had shot to my crotch when he had, and he pinched and tweaked the hard little nubs.

I reveled in the feeling of my hot, sweet cunt filled up with Jonah's delicious length, the feeling of his hands on my tits, and I threw my head back and exploded again, feeling the juices I released splashing between my thighs and over Jonah's belly; his hair on his stomach and legs was soaked. That was too much for him -- his hands clenched on my hips, holding me firm as he pumped up between my legs, and I felt his cock pulsing as his cum filled my pussy.

I rolled off of him and onto the grass, spent and panting, smiling broadly, feeling as though I was about to fall asleep. Jonah was pulling his pants back on, not seeming to mind the moisture that still clung to him.

"Here." He was suddenly standing above me. "Let me help you up."

I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet. He'd already rolled up my yoga mat for me. "I have a class to teach," he said, regret in his voice, "or I'd stay -- and we could do that some more. I'm going to smell you for hours.

"Mmmm," he added. "Let's do it again soon, maybe, please?"

I nodded. He leaned close, kissing me, then turned to leave. "Bye, Anna."