The early morning sun warmed my body through my baggy sweat suit as I went through my morning yoga routine. As I moved into the Shoulder Stand Pose (Sarvangasana) I could feel my abdomen and back muscles taking the strain. I looked past my grey top, and my baggy pants to see if my feet are pointed in the correct direction. My hands rested calmly on my upper back to maintain constant pressure.
My breath was even as I managed to hold the pose for two minutes. My breathing or my concentration on the pose couldn’t control my monkey mind. My attention should have been relaxed to allow awareness out. The more I tried to let the thoughts float past, the more difficult it became not to reel in those images. The question plaguing me was, “Will I even be good enough?”
Flowing into the next pose, Halasana, or Plough Pose, I extended my legs over my face, for my toes to touch the mat. My arms rested flat on the other side. My breathing became shallow as my top sagged lower to cover my face. Everything felt dead, with no tingling, no moisture, just an unloved body.
Halfway through the pose, I heard an urgent knock at the door of my small two-bedroom home. Fortunately, the backyard was isolated and private where I could do yoga privately, without anyone criticizing my form. I tried to ignore the hammering but in fear of the intruder breaking down the door, I had to end my routine. Slipping on my sandals I looked through the peephole to see who the disturber of my peace was.
Who else but Chris, my ex, and his new wife, the Third? I was number Two.
“What do you want?” I wasn’t going to be polite, keeping the door closed.
“A favor,” he said. “We’re desperate.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“It’s not for me, Rachel. It is Jack.”
“Is he sick?”
“No.” I heard the impatient tone in Chris’s voice.
“Then you don’t need me. He is your big boy,” I said, stepping back from the closed door. “He can look after himself,” I continued.
“He needs a place to stay till he goes to Varsity,” said Chris.
“He can stay with you, or are you afraid Number Three will seduce him?”
“We’re emigrating to New Zeeland and Jack cannot.”
I quickly opened the door to slap my ex and kick him in the balls. But Chris was too fast and dodged my hand and my kick.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said, as Chris, his blond bombshell wife, and Jack pushed themselves into my modest home. Jack had a bag over his right shoulder. I tried to defend my home against these unwelcome intruders, but Chris was a strong, well-built man, Number Three tall in red high heels, and Jack a dark and handsome hunk. My five-four, in a baggy yoga outfit, was no match for this bunch. I saw the contempt in Number Three’s eyes as she scanned a minimalist-decorated room behind me. What she saw must have shocked her. In the center were a low table, pillows, and no chairs. Her disdain for my appearance confirmed my own self-image.
Chris’s face showed desperation.
Jack’s handsome face and humiliated look reminded me of the second Yama of Patañjali’s Yoga Sutras, namely Satya, or truthfulness, my commitment to integrity. If I refused to babysit Jack, I would be selfish. But I was about to expand my horizons after too many years on my own.
“And I thought you hated the All Blacks,” I said and pulled Jack to me to give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around me.
“I will always support the Boks,” was Chris’s retort. “Our resident's visas suddenly came through and besides we must go where it is safe and where there’s money to be made.”
Letting go of Jack, I stepped back to look at Chris. I had a choice to ruin Chris’s plans and refuse Jack's lodgings or allow Jack to stay and wreck my life. It took me three years to rebuild my life after the divorce, and now to give up my privacy and most importantly, to cancel my weekend. For what? Because my ex and Number Three thought the grass was greener on the other side?
Okay, it rained a lot more in New Zeeland than in South Africa.
On the other hand, I have been a stepmother to Jack for more than five years and I came to love him. Would I give up my only chance to better my yoga practice just to accommodate another man’s son? Then I looked at Jack, no longer a gangly teenager but a good-looking young man, with a strong jaw, dark hair, an easy smile, and puppy brown eyes. How could they leave him behind?
“I won’t be a burden,” said Jack, his eyes downcast. “I’ll do anything for you. I will clean your house, do the laundry and cook your food.”
Seeing the dimple on his right cheek, suddenly woke a long desire between my legs. I could feel my sex responding by moistening my desert-dry slit and lips. My nipples stiffened beneath my top. This was not the response I wanted or cared for. If Chris only knew what my body told me, he would grab Jack and flee.
“Okay, Jack can stay,” I said, turning around to hide my arousal from Chris and Number Three. “Just close the door on your way out.”
As soon as I heard the door shut and their vehicle driving out the driveway, I turned around to face Jack. I was aware of my hard nipples straining to make their mark beneath my top.
He dropped his bag and looked at my feet.
“I’m sorry Dad is such a fucking asshole,” he said and shrugged. “She has family in New Zeeland and got an important job for him.”
Before I could respond I heard another knock on the door. I hoped that Chris came back to take Jack with them. This weekend was too important to me.
When I saw Carol standing in the doorway, and behind her, her nineteen-year-old stepson Paul, my weekend and my future exploded in my face. She wore tight-fitting colorful yoga pants with a sports bra that barely contained her beautiful full breasts.
“What is it with that long face?” asked Carol. My gaze moved quickly from her short, flaming red hair to the cameltoe between her legs.
“I have to cancel the weekend.” Then Jack appeared behind me.
“Aunt Carol!” Jack moved past me to embrace her and gave her a kiss. “I’m glad to see a friendly face.”
Carol stepped back and looked at Jack. “Is this Jack? I cannot believe it. Look at you. Handsome, sexy, and hot as fuck.”
“Carol!” I tried to correct her language, but then Paul stepped forward to hug me. I looked up at him to see his laughing blue eyes.
“Why are you hiding your beauty beneath these bags?” he said as he stepped back to look at me. “Aunt Rachel, you’re too sexy and fucking beautiful not to show it off.” He pulled up my top to look at what was beneath. I quickly stopped him. Why would such a handsome young man want to look at my heavy breasts?
After Carol gave Jack a wet kiss, she turned to me and took me in her arms. My eyes filled with tears as I looked at her. Although I loved Jack, his arrival couldn’t have come at the worst time. I have invested all my money in this venture and now I must babysit another man’s son. Carol escorted me to the backyard and put up her hand to show the boys not to follow.
“I cannot go with you on this retreat,” I said. “I must babysit Jack.”
“Nonsense,” said Carol. “He’s coming with us.” She took my face in her hands and kissed me softly on my lips. “I am taking Paul as my escort. They can be our students.”
“But Jack wouldn’t enjoy me showing him the asanas,” I protested.
“We’ll swap,” said Carol as she looked at my clothes. “You take Paul and I’ll look after Jack.”
“But we’ll still have to share the accommodations.”
“So what?” said Carol, with a smile. “You have to share this place with him. This would be a great way to get to know each other better.”
I just had to attend this yoga retreat to complete my 200-hour teacher training. If it meant I must learn to share accommodations to accomplish it, so be it.
“Let’s go,” I said and walked back into the house. “I won’t be long.”
With me driving, the boys had a lot of questions during the drive to our destination, but Carol was vague and noncommittal. We begged the boys not to call us Mom or Auntie. We arrived late afternoon at the lodge and were escorted by a man in his late thirties with his long blond hair and tattoos to our bungalow with two double beds, a kitchenette, a bathroom/shower, and a toilet.
“Assembly in the hall in thirty minutes,” he said. “Come naked with your mats.” He turned around and left.
“What?” Jack and Paul said simultaneously.
Jack then looked at me and asked: “You knew about this?”
I felt my world crumble with a strong wind blowing away my future. I felt shame, anger, and humiliation burning inside me. I grabbed the smiling Carol on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, mine full of tears.
“Carol, you never said this is a naked yoga retreat,” I said. “I can’t do naked asanas before you, Jack or Paul. Or a lot of strangers.”
“This retreat is your ticket to becoming a qualified yoga teacher with a difference. It is your choice. Now or never,” she said, as she stripped to take a shower. “Rachel, are you coming to join me?” Swaying her naked behind at her three astonished housemates.
I looked at Jack and Paul and said, “I am sorry. I didn’t know, and I can’t let you go through with this, Jack. We better go home, or your dad will kill me.”
“I am not going to ruin your future. And forget Dad,” said Jack as he stripped off his clothes. “You took me in, knowing the sacrifices you had to make.” As he dropped his pants he continued, “Besides, I remember seeing glimpses of your beautiful body and would love to see you naked.”
“Me too,” said Paul, as he stripped. “I love Mom, uh, Carol’s naked body and would do anything to see yours.”
I looked at their beautiful, muscled bodies and couldn’t help my gaze focussing on their beautiful cocks.
“Promise you won’t laugh.” I was scared to reveal myself, but I had no choice. I turned around and quickly undressed, used my yoga mat to cover the little dignity I had left, and faced their critical gaze.
“I can promise I won’t laugh but my dick is smiling at your sexy body,” said Paul, with his erection in his hand.
“Ditto,” echoed Jack, caressing his dick. Using pranayama or yoga breathing techniques I took in their arousal as confirmation.
“Cheaters,” I said, seeing the pleasure on Jack and Paul’s faces. As the naked Carol entered the room, she looked at us and asked: “What did I miss?”
“Hurry up, we have to be there in five,” I said and slipped on my sandals.
The hall was a medium-sized structure, with a thatch roof, wooden walls, and long wooden pillars. Soft Indian music drifted towards us as we entered the sanctum. A huge image of a Dancing Shiva on the stage greeted all the yogis and yoginis. Eight other naked couples stood around, looking apprehensive. A quick scan of my fellow trainees told me that all of them took care of their beautiful bodies. We found a place for our mats close to the front with Jack on my left, and Carol, and Paul to my right. Glancing at our stepsons, I saw that they were still sporting impressive erections. I quickly looked away as I wasn’t there for the sex, but for the training.
“Namaste,” greeted a beautiful naked woman with long raven black hair. She stood on stage with her hands together as if in prayer. “My name is Parvati, and the name of my co-presenter is Harish. He’ll be joining us shortly,” she said with an American accent. “Let us start with Savasana, the Corpse Pose.”
As I got down onto the mat, I remembered that the goddess Parvati was the wife of the Hindu god Shiva and the reincarnation of Sati, Shiva’s first wife. I settled to lay on my back, my arms by my sides, my legs a little open and my feet falling to the side. It felt strange to be naked surrounded by equally unclothed strangers in the presence of a divine.
“The Yoga Sutras of Patañjali begins with “With humility, we embrace the sacred study of yoga,” Parvati continues as we settled in, quieting our minds. “Yoga is the uniting of consciousness in the heart.” (The Secret Power of Yoga by Nischala Joy Devi)
For the next hour, Parvati took us through a vigorous sequence to sort out the committed from beginners. Poor Jack and Paul had a hard time doing most of the poses, but they were game enough. After ten minutes I saw their erections deflating as the exercises took their toll.
After a naked Ayurveda brunch for the different constitutions of Vata, Pita, and Kapha, the two boys’ erections were back, eyeing our stanas (tits) and yonis (pussies.) I felt sorry for them, but I had a goal to get great marks for my yoga teaching.
That was next on the agenda. Each teacher had first to show her student the poses and then adjust the stand until it was correct and comfortable. The first and most important act in approaching adjusting a pose is to get permission from the student to touch him or her before proceeding. In Naked Yoga any inappropriate touching would be deemed as sexual harassment.
Parvati and Harish showed us how to touch and guide the students through the poses before allowing us to turn to do the same. I stood before Paul and showed him the correct Warrior Pose before he could do it.
When it was his turn, his feet were not in the correct position, and I had to drop on my knees to adjust his stance.
“Paul, may I touch you to show you what to do?” I asked looking up at him with his erect lingam (cock) inches from my face.
“As long as you swallow my dick in that sexy mouth of yours,” he said with a smirk.
“Be serious, please,” I begged. “You can fuck me later but now I need your total attention.”
“Okay, Rachel,” said Paul. “You may touch me.”
A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I adjusted his stance and moved behind him to pull his shoulders back and straighten his arms. I tried to concentrate when Harish came to us to inspect my teaching. He was the chap with the blond hair and tattoos we met when we arrived. I was impressed by his long lingam swaying in front of him. What I didn’t expect was that he touched me without asking, to show me how to guide Paul.
“Very good, Rachel,” he whispered from behind in my ear, his body close to mine. His hands slipped from my shoulders, to fleetingly cup my heavy breasts. Then I felt his dick slip between my ass cheeks.
I stepped back, pushing him off me, and turned around to face him and whispered: “If you touch me again without my permission, I will turn you into a eunuch.”
I turned to Paul again and continued to adjust his torso.
The rest of the session went off without any more problems.
Back in our bungalow I fell on my bed and wept into the cushion. The humiliation was complete. The teacher who was supposed to be the example of moral fiber turned out to be an asshole. In my naivety about the sacredness of the purpose of yoga and that of the yogis and yoginis came crashing down. I thought the yamas and niyamas were five universal moral commands and five steps of self-purification. My nudity wasn’t an invitation to a fuck. I could understand Paul’s joke about sucking him off, but not that of a teacher. Carol, Paul, and Jack stood next to the bed, with frowns on their faces. I sat up, placed my feet on the floor, and dropped my head in shame and anger.
“What happened?” asked Carol.
“Harish had his hands on my tits and his dick between my cheeks. Without my permission,” I said, drying my tears.
“Why didn’t you say something?” asked Paul, balling his fists. “I would have kicked his ass.”
