I couldn’t believe it, my neighbor Irina, standing in the doorway of my yoga class. She seemed hesitant, lost, which is not unusual for a first-time drop-in. I excused myself from another student and walked over to her. “Hey, welcome to my class.” She smiled at me, her eyes a warm brown blend of both mischief and desire. I had no idea how she found out about this; maybe I had mentioned it in passing at some point? I couldn’t remember.

“So, this is what keeps you so busy: fit women in tight clothing?” She chuckled to herself. I found it ironic since she was wearing a pair of tight leggings and a crop top herself, and my mind wandered to a few days before when we had fucked on the lawn in her backyard. She was radiant and thick, or a little chubby even, and at around five-four, she was the perfect fun-sized woman.

“Look around.” The dozen or so people in the room were all in their thirties or later, and all had what would be called dad or mom bods, and none of us were unhealthy. “I just do this once a week, keeps me off the streets.”

“And in the sheets?”

“Not yet...” I paused, taking her gently by the arm, “Do you need a mat?” It was a rhetorical question; she did not have one with her.

She blanked her face and tried to look serious. “Oh yes, I seem to have lost mine.”

“You’ve done yoga before?”

“No.” She winked at me, and I turned to find a clean mat in a storage cubicle and a couple of foam blocks.

“Place your mat wherever there is room.” I’m sure she would have liked to be front and center, but regulars and early-birds occupied those spots. She picked a spot in the second row off to the side, and sat down on her mat, watching me chat with some of my regular students.

My Wednesday night class was hardly popular. The daytime classes, with their high-energy music and vinyasa flow, brought in the younger students looking for regular workouts throughout the week. My class was sedentary by comparison, and most of my students were older, or more interested in a calmer, more controlled yoga experience. I tried to mix it up, and each week concentrated on a specific part of the body, like this week we were doing hip openers. Most of us had dad or mom bods, and some of them were teachers of other classes because it gave them a chance to reconnect with the heart of yoga, as I liked to call it.

I began class on time, and after the usual three OMs, we did a light meditation in Balasana. The class that night was focusing on hip openers, but I always start out with the customary eight sun salutations. I like a slow yoga, and I’m more about control, so we stand for a moment in Tadasana, move slowly into Chaturanga, extend the hips up into Adho Mukha Svanasana (with hip circles of course), back into Chaturanga, and then I like to have them try to float their feet forward to their hands and then stand again in Tadasana.

Irina was trying, but it’s hard to get the proper alignment simply from watching others. Sometimes I do the asanas with the class, and sometimes I stroll about the room, offering alignment tips. That night I hovered near her. She needed a little tap here, or a firm hand there, to straighten her arm, or drop her belly, or make sure her feet were parallel. Her crop top rose dangerously close to under-boob territory several times, and of course she wasn’t wearing a bra because she didn’t like them. I stayed focused and soft during the class, despite my imagination asserting itself a few times.

We went through some Ashwa lunges (and variations), Eka Pada Rajakapotasana, Skandasana, Malasana, and my favorite, Setu Bandha Sarvangasana, which I assisted with a foam block under her sacrum. I closed with them holding Ananda Balasana until they didn’t want to and settled into Shavasana while meditative music played. Sometimes I’ll recite something from a sutra or tantra, but I had nothing planned that night, so the class listened to some mantra by Deva Premal and Miten.

“Next week we’ll be working with our lower back, and I’m sure you’ll all be glad to know we’ll be doing Setu Bandha Sarvangasana again.”

“I love Bridge pose,” one woman exclaimed. I smiled at her.

Everyone got up and started rolling up their mats and moving to the water cooler. Except for Irina. She just remained motionless on her mat; eyes closed. I squatted next to her. “Was it that boring?”

She opened one eye and looked at me. “Hip openers? Are you trying to tell me something?”

I laughed. “Hip-related injuries become much more common as we age,” I said as sagely as I could. I had become accustomed to being strictly professional while in the studio and always with students. Flirting was something I had an unwritten rule against.

“Ouch.”

I stood up and offered her my hand. She allowed me to help her stand, not that she needed it, and in a breach of my usual decorum, I leaned into her, whispering, “I’d be happy to help you open your hips some more.”

She giggled at that. “You hot yoga teachers, always preying on your students.” I feigned indignation.

“Wrong. I’m not hot.” She arched her eyebrow at me. I took her mat and sprayed it down with some cleaner and wiped it dry, before rolling it back up and putting it away again.

“Tom, five minutes?” It was Ray, the studio owner. We always went out for a beer after my class, as it was the last one of the day, on the slowest day of the week.

“Sure.” I glanced at Irina. “I... we, we always go out after class.” She smiled warmly at that. “Would you like to join us?”

“My hips can wait.” She looked down at her bare feet. “Do your thing, I’ve got to get up early tomorrow anyway and need to get home.” I felt like she was being polite but disappointed. “It’s good to have friends.” I didn’t know what to say.

We both got our shoes on in the lobby as I said my goodbyes and the students dispersed. Irina lingered by the door. I am always careful never to presume anything having to do with touching a student (or anyone for that matter). Even assists require some level of explicit consent beyond a tap or a joint adjustment. In her case, I felt I was being overly formal when I opened my arms and asked if I could get a hug.

“Tom! What will people think?!”

“That I’m human?”

“Scandalous!” And she walked into my arms. She had a woodsy/spicy scent, mingled with her own natural odor, and feeling her warm body against mine invoked the arousal I had felt just days earlier. She had her breasts pressed against me, and it was a struggle not to grab her ass.

“I’ve never gotten involved with a student, so I’m not sure how to behave right now.”

“Why? Are you having…” she lowered her voice to a breathy whisper, “impure thoughts?”

“We left impure behind a while ago.”

“Good boy.” She kept her voice low, lending an intimate quality to the exchange. “Do you give… private lessons?”

“Not usually, but in your case, I might make an exception.”

“How much?”

“The first one is free, but I’m sure we can make an arrangement after that.” The back lights went out as Ray locked the office door. Sadly, our hug ended.

She pulled out her phone and started tapping on it. “How does 11 on Saturday sound?” I didn’t even pull my phone out. “Morning or night?” She gave me a look.

“Morning. No problem,” I replied.

She glanced at me. “Jake is going out for the day.” She smiled and tapped her phone again. I felt my phone buzz as she waved and walked out the door. I pulled it out and had a new calendar request: 11:00 am. Saturday. Open my hips. ;)

“Who was that?” Ray asked. “I’ve never seen you like that with a student.”

“She’s my new neighbor; I helped her with her landscaping.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure she appreciates that.” He looked at me. “You know, Tom, it’s okay for you to go out with a student once in a while. You’re hardly a predator, and it might do you some good.”

“Tonight wasn’t good for her.”

Ray lifted an eyebrow and laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“She has a son and needs to get home.” We stepped outside and Ray locked the studio door.

“Look, man, I’m just saying you’re not a monk. I know things haven’t been easy with Hazel, but it’s been seven years.” We were walking the half-block up the street to the Stumble Inn. Cliché name, but cheap beer, and we were like family.

“Yes, I know. I deserve to live a little, right?”

“I don’t mean to harp on you; I’ll give it a rest, but yes. Dammit, Tom, you do.”

“For you, Ray, I’ll do it. I’ll go out with her.”

Ray stopped outside the bar. “Wait,” his eyes narrowed. “How much did she appreciate your helping her with the landscaping?”

“Ray! I’m shocked! A gentleman would never reveal that sort of thing!” I feigned indignation and laughed.

“Good,” Ray countered, “then nothing is stopping you from telling me all about it. First beer’s on me.”

________________

On Saturday morning, I got up earlier than usual and caught up on a little work from the time I had missed on Monday. I made my usual yogurt and fruit, and granola parfait for breakfast, and served some to Hazel, who mumbled her usual thank you. Irina would need a mat, so I took stock of my yoga mat collection.

I continued to use the same Manduka mat for years, even with its signs of wear, though I had also acquired various high-end and boutique mats and accessories. Being a minority owner of a yoga studio had some advantages. I selected a Jade for Irina. It was a high-end mat, and the favored brand of my ex, Margaret.

She ran the studio for years, and one benefit I got from it was regular yoga practice and a teaching certificate. Ray and I were the only two guys in our teacher training class (with 11 women) and after the divorce, he offered me a teaching spot at the studio after he bought it from her, or at least her part of it. As a minority owner and silent partner, I didn’t need the money, but enjoyed the teaching, so I took the late spot on Wednesdays and had been doing it ever since. He would have liked to see me teach more, but the money is in the fitness crowd, and I no longer had any interest in teaching like that.

Margaret was a fit, vivacious woman who singlehandedly lifted her studio to the place to be, and be seen. We both wanted a child, but the demands of raising her caused me to quit my job to be a full-time dad. Once Hazel was a few years old, I did the teacher training and started teaching some classes, but rapidly became disillusioned with yoga as a fitness technique. Thus began a series of value shifts that led to Margaret moving to Los Angeles. We were supposed to follow in time, but her new life didn’t include either of us.

It had been seven years, and I wasn’t sure Hazel would ever recover. They talked sometimes, and it was amicable enough. I made sure it was, but there was no overlooking the underlying betrayal and abandonment. Hazel had cried and begged to live with her mother, only to be flatly refused. I had been given full custody in the divorce, and Margaret easily paid the token amount of support requested. She would never articulate why she left, only saying she was happier now.

I tried to make it up to Hazel; as if I knew what I was doing. I got into the dating scene, hoping to find someone who could end up being a maternal figure for her, but realized the ridiculousness of that idea. So, for the past seven years, I plunged myself into cybersecurity and raising Hazel, and kept myself busy and distracted. We vacationed occasionally in LA so Hazel could visit her mom and I could go to a conference or training.

At 10:56 I grabbed both mats and started out the side door, stopping to say goodbye to Hazel. She actually lifted her eyes from her phone. “Two mats, Dad, what’s up?”

“I have a private lesson with our new neighbor, Jake’s mom.”

“Miss Florakis? Yeah, she’s gay. I like her.”

“Oh?”

“Jake told me. He’s gay too.”

“Am I the last straight person on Earth?”

“Yeah, Dad, get with the program.” She went back to whatever she was doing on her phone.

Once out my side door, it was 23 seconds until I was standing in front of my neighbor’s house. The front of Irina’s house had a small window, the front door, and the door of her two and a half car garage, with a tall wooden gate that led to the backyard. I rang the doorbell at 10:58, and Jake, a tall, dark-haired adolescent with olive skin and dark eyes, greeted me. He was on his way out.

“Hey Mr. Sommer.”

“Hey Jake, leaving?”

“Yeah, off to hang out with my buddy.” Irina walked up behind him.

“Tom, you’re...” she glanced at her watch, “right on time.”

“I appreciate punctuality.”

“I’m sure you do. Jake, honey, I put some money on your Greenlight card, in case you guys go to the mall. You don’t have to spend all of it.”

“Sure, Mom, spend it all. Got it.” He breezed by me and out the door as we heard a car horn in the street.

“Don’t forget to shut the door on your way out.”

His voice carried from outside. “Mr. Sommer will get it.” I cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged.

“Mr. Sommer will indeed get the door,” I narrated, shutting it behind me.

She flew into my arms, kissing me, one hand on my waist and the other playing with my hair. I held her and felt myself becoming aroused - not that I wasn’t earlier - but now I was noticeably aroused. She was perfect in my arms. She reached down to tug on my baggy shorts, and I could feel her grinning as we kissed.

“No hot, tight yoga pants for me? What does a girl have to do to get some eye candy?”

“If a girl is very good, she might get more than she bargained for.”

“Bargained?” she laughed. “You gave the first one away for free.” I didn’t have a ready retort for that one.

I was determined to have her do some yoga, so when we came up for breath, I disentangled myself and presented her with the Jade yoga mat. In honor of our five-day anniversary.

“Oh, Tom, I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

“What can I say? I’m a bad romantic.” I paused. “And I didn’t realize you were gay. Or Jake, for that matter.”

“Wha... oh, did Jake say something to Hazel?” She looked confused. “Did she say that Jake is gay? She thinks I’m gay?” She laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, Hazel is gay too. You all have me outnumbered.”

“Tom, don’t you think it’s time to get with the agenda?”

“Aha! They were right. There is an agenda!”

“Yes, after we visit the Subaru dealership, we can shop at IKEA.”

“Well, when you put it like that, being gay sounds appealing.”

“Yeah. Now I’m wondering if it’s too late to sign up?”

“I don’t think it’s ever too late, but what’s up with our kids and why does Jake think you’re gay?”

“His dad… since his dad left...” She trailed off, seeming uncomfortable. I felt like I had struck a nerve and regretted saying anything. “My ex-husband was... difficult. Jake likes to tease me and say he turned me gay.”

“It’s okay, Irina, you don’t have to explain anything unless you want to.” I moved in to hold her. “I’ll take you the way you are, no questions asked.” She settled her head against my chest, and we stood like that for a few moments, enjoying the silence and the closeness.

I do not know how long it took for her to come up with it, but the first words out of her mouth after that were: “I feel like I’m in an episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.”

“Young lady, do not mock Saint Fred. Blasphemy.”

“IxNay on the OckeryMay, got it. Pinkie promise.” She held out her curled right pinky, and I returned the gesture. Naturally, I had questions about her ex and what had happened to this playful, charming woman afterwards, but she seemed comfortable with me, so I figured I’d let everything unfold in due time.

“Besides, Fred Rogers rarely fucks his neighbors.” I waited a beat. “But if he did, it would be a booty-full day in the neighborhood.”

She giggled and rolled her eyes at me. “OK, Mr. Sensei, where do we begin?”

“Well, we’ll roll out our mats...” I looked for a suitable hard surface, although it’s not a requirement. Mats weren’t even a requirement, but I was a bit of a traditionalist. The tiled kitchen floor was not the best surface, but it would do. “Over there in the kitchen.” As we walked in that direction, I explained she shouldn’t feel the need to buy any fancy clothing. “Anything that is comfortable and doesn’t restrict movement is OK.”

“Oh, thank God, I hate tight clothing. I can’t even stand wearing a bra.” And with that, she took off her clothes. “Ah, much better.” I was getting far too distracted and losing my determination. I wanted to take her then and there, bent over the kitchen table.

“Yes, you look comfortable.” I tried, and somewhat succeeded in not staring at her breasts like I did last time. “At least now we aren’t dripping with sweat.”

“I’m just a big, fluffy cushion.” I watched her in silence as she unrolled her mat. “Where do you want me?”

‘On my cock’ sprang to mind, but I told her, “There is fine,” and unrolled my mat next to hers. We started out with basic sun salutations, and I decided not to use Sanskrit names. I explained that if all she ever got from yoga were these basic poses, she’d be doing well. She said Mountain was her favorite, complained about Plank (like many people), thought downward doggie was fun, and by the time we had done eight of those, we were both breathing faster. I had sped it up to make it a little easier.

“When do we get to the tantric stuff?” she blurted out.

“Tantric? Where did you get that?”

“Cosmopolitan.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Please tell me you’re luring me into a tantra cult to make me your sex slave.”

“Damn it, woman! How did you guess?” I tried to feign indignation, but wasn’t sure I did a very convincing job. I leaned closer to her and whispered, “Is it working?”

“You’re off to a promising start,” she answered before giving me a quick kiss.

“Um, this kind of yoga isn’t precisely tantric.” I wanted to explain, but it was complicated. “I mean, it’s not not-tantra, but tantra is more a philosophy and another path to enlightenment, despite what you’ve read in Cosmopolitan Magazine.” But she threw me off with that one, and I started thinking.

I had read several Tantras and had even attended a training retreat in Las Vegas to become a tantric master. “Commercialized and superficial with a thin veneer of Hinduism” was how I described it, but I still got a certificate and even learned about some fun sex techniques I had never gotten to use. The self-styled guru who led the retreat had been convicted of fraud and assault not long after.

Through my further studies, I learned that tantra, or at least the tantra that I ended up working with, was essentially ‘liberation through sense enjoyment’. Sex and intercourse were in the mix, but so was food, and beautiful art, and music, and any other thing that brought us pleasure. Or pain. All of it was offered to the divine, and we are the sacrifice. I found myself wanting to share this with Irina.

“Hello, earth to Tom,” I heard her say.

In my momentary reverie, she had lain on her side, elbow on the mat supporting her head, just looking at me. Her curvy body, with its hills and valleys stretched out, stole my resolve. Fuck it, I was going to try something new. She perked up as I took off my shorts, boxers, and shirt, and my semi-erect member popped out and started slowly bobbing.

“Now you’re talking,” she purred as her free hand reached out. I sighed as she placed her fingers on the head and lightly stroked it, running her thumb down the shaft and back up again. She was rewarded with a fully hardened prick and a small drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip, which she rubbed into the head with her thumb. She seemed fascinated by it. Being circumcised, there was no foreskin to contend with; what she saw was what she got.

I enjoyed her exploration for a moment and then got back to it. “Plenty of time for that later. For now, more of your lesson.”

“Such a cruel taskmaster... take pity on me.” She furrowed her face in a frown and batted her eyes at me, all while sliding her curved fingers up and down my shaft. I almost gave in, but I had ideas, and I was determined to try them.

I moved back, out of reach. “Get on your hands and knees.” She flashed disappointment on her face, but then eagerly complied.

“You’re going to show me another doggy position?”

“Irina. You’re going to be the end of me.” I took a deep breath, tempted to just kneel behind her, but steadied myself instead. “We’re going to start with cat-cow.” I made sure her knees and hands were in proper alignment, because even in fun I still took my yoga seriously. “Now arch your back, suck your belly up, and lower your head. That’s cat.” I let her stay like that for a moment. “Now, bring your lower back and belly down and raise your face to look upward. That’s cow.”

I had her do that a few times, and we laughed when she made mooing noises. Once she had them down, I got on my back and slid my head underneath her, so her breasts hung in my face. “Now, I’m going to milk the cow.” She seemed startled, but I just kept going. “Cat... cow.” I started licking her nipples as they rose and fell, poking them with my tongue when they were further from my face and placed my lips on them to suck when they were lower. Every few repetitions I tried switching nipples, and soon she was moaning and trying to spend more time in cow.

I caught myself stroking my cock as her natural scent had asserted itself past her freshly showered fragrance, but it wasn’t time yet to surrender myself to this experience, and I stopped. I don’t think she noticed. Her breathing had increased, and she was moaning, which was not something I attributed to this easy sequence of poses. After she stopped doing cat at all, I just stayed there with her nipple in my mouth and enjoyed its hard thickness.

I scooted myself out from underneath her, and she made sad cow noises. After sitting up, she hadn’t changed her position, so I scooped her hair off to one side and started nibbling at the back of her neck. She shivered at that. “What’s this one called?” she asked dreamily.

“Irina’s Yummy Neck, my favorite.” I stopped after a minute and prepared for the next step.

There was only one good pose to put her in for access to cunnilingus: happy baby. I helped her lie on her back. “Draw your knees up parallel to each other, your knees at a ninety-degree angle, and grasp the outsides of your feet.” I helped her get into position. “We did this one the other night; it’s a great hip opener.”

“There you are again, talking about my hips.”

“I like your hips.”

“Especially when they open for you?” She looked at me with a big grin on her face.

“Girl, you have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea.”

“Doesn’t that feel good? How everything is relaxed and gently opening?” I pulled her knees away from the center and out a little. “Go ahead and rock a bit. Spread your legs a little. Try to straighten them.”

She rocked a bit and moved her legs. “It does feel good.”

“Hatha yoga, physical yoga, originated as a way to make you more comfortable in your body so you could meditate longer. When done slowly and for long periods of time, it was meditation in itself.” I moved so I was down at her feet, enjoying the sight of her fully exposed inner thighs and labia. Even her puckered brown little anus was exposed. I wondered how she would feel about anal sex?

“Do you like the view, Sensei?” She had lifted her head and was looking at me between her knees.

“Very much so.” I licked my lips exaggeratedly. “There’s only one thing I want more than the view,” I said, as I moved in closer. “Now, hold that position…”

My hands pressed against the bottoms of her thighs, helping to spread them open a little more, and my face leaned down to greet the long opening the position created with her labia. I realized she had shaved since earlier this week as my tongue reached out to penetrate her folds. She moaned as I slid my tongue up and down the length of her lips, enjoying the musky smell emanating from her.

Her lips were dewy with moisture, and I realized how wet she was; a blossom waiting for the bee. Like a stinger, I jabbed my tongue between her lips and opened them from bottom to top, tasting the whole of her. At the top I felt her tight little bud which needed no coaxing to emerge, ready to be sucked on and licked while my fingers penetrated her lips and probed deeper, stroking the inner walls in search of that hardened lump I would massage vigorously.

She moaned more deeply, and I could feel her hips opening more as she settled and relaxed into what she was experiencing. My tongue darted frantically over her swollen bud as my mouth sucked it between my lips. She let out a series of deep sighs as my fingers stroked her G-spot and my tongue wrote sutras on her clit.

Soon, I could feel her trying to arch her back, and she let go of her feet, bringing her thighs against my head with her ankles crossed on my back. Her hands found my hair, pulling my face in even tighter as she quivered. My tongue gently circled her clit, and my finger stroked her even faster. She started to thrash, and her moans became deeper and more urgent.

I held her as firmly as I could with one hand, continuing my attention as her climax approached and rose in intensity. She started crying out, “Oh my, oh my,” and her hands tried to push my face away from her rather than pull it in. Her hips shifted violently, and it was all I could do to keep my finger in her when I felt a jet of liquid hit me in the face, followed by another. She threw her head back in a deep moan and shook as several more squirts hit me, tapering off in their intensity as she recovered herself, breathing hard and turning her head to look at me. “Oh my God. Did I just, what the hell?”

“Looks like you squirted,” I stated. Never one to pass up the obvious. “Is that unusual?”

“Yeah, I’ve never done that before.” A satisfied smile filled her face. “Damn Mr. Yoga Man, you’re just full of surprises.”

“Surprises? Like getting squirted in the face?” Her face registered concern for a moment until I leaned over and kissed her. “Looks like we’re both full of surprises.”

I let her relax for a moment while I scrambled up to find some towels, and while she lay on her side, her one shoulder off the mat and on the cold tile, I wiped up all evidence of her first squirt. “I wasn’t sure that would happen, but I’m glad it did.”

“Me too. I’m not sure how you’re going to top that.” She closed her eyes and smiled and reopened them. “My sexy tantric yoga god.”

“Au contraire, I am simply providing due obeisance to my dark-haired goddess.”

“I like your obeisance, whatever that means. Can I have some more?”

“Your wish is my command.” I hoped I could give her a lot more.

“What’s my next lesson?”

“Sandwich making. Time to know your place, woman.”

OH?!" Her face brightened and the mischievous look was back. “How about another ‘your face between my thighs sandwich’?” And she simulated squeezing something with her thighs. “I will crush your head this time.”

“No doubt you could.” I paused and smiled. “And I look forward to it.” I stood there a moment, looking down at her and she up at me, with my hard-on bobbing in excitement, and then I said, “OK, enough foreplay.” She started to lie back down on the mat, preparing to spread her legs, but I kneeled down and took her by the hand, and made her sit up. She looked a little puzzled. “We’ll be seated for this one.”

“Are you going to make me meditate?” she asked, and then added excitedly, “Am I going to be on top?”

“Not exactly.” I seated myself in easy pose, basically cross-legged sitting, and pulled her forward so she was sitting on my ankles and helped her adjust her legs so they wrapped behind me. It was awkward getting her into position, and she gripped my shoulders strongly to keep some semblance of balance as I got her settled in. My cock, which had lost some of its former ardor, was now again at full, and pressing at her mons.

She wrapped her arms around me and shimmied a little, bringing her opening to touch my cock, inviting it in. She hadn’t moved far from her original position, but it was enough to make my ankles hurt. I tried to still her by placing my hands at the sides of her face and drawing her in for a kiss, but that just made her want to use her hand to move my member into her perfumed grotto.

“Shhh, be still,” I whispered. “We’ll get there.” She sighed and relaxed into me, returning my kisses, which I tried to keep slow and sensual. Applying gentle pressure, I pushed her back until our faces were at arm’s length. In my best ‘guided meditation’ voice. I told her just to look at me. “It’s not a staring contest, and you don’t need to make faces. Just look into my eyes. Look away if you get uncomfortable; it’s not a contest, and no one is judging you.”

She settled herself and looked into my eyes. Her eyes were very brown, very warm, and beautiful. She looked serious for a time, then smiled, suppressed a giggle, became serious again and then looked uncomfortable. This was all normal. I had learned this from my first day of yoga teacher training. Partners were assigned, and I got Ray. We were to spend 10 minutes simply sitting a few feet apart and gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s supposed to develop intimacy and trust, and it did. Ray and I have been great friends ever since. It doesn’t always work, however; some partners were just never meant to be.

I was taking a risk doing this with her.

I gazed at her, blinking naturally, and witnessed my rising thoughts. Are those crow's feet? Look at her eyes. I wonder how she got that scar? Eyes. I wonder what she thinks of this? Eyes. The experience can be uncomfortable, but it’s important just to return to the beginning and look into their eyes without fear or judgment. I have no idea what she was getting from my steely grays, or if she was looking at the freckles, pouches, or lines, but her face became more relaxed, and she stopped smiling or frowning and just continued looking at me.

I experienced several emotions gazing into her eyes like that, and even those were distractions. Sadness, fear, joy, elation - all passed through my head and lingered in my chest. I pushed them aside and just continued gazing at her. It wasn’t really about you; it was about the willingness to sit with someone in discomfort and share space, to be exposed to them and to foster intimacy and empathy. I wanted to be open to her, and I returned to just looking into her eyes. My penis had long since shriveled up.

I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for her, as if my heart wanted to leap from my body and join with hers. It was powerful, and a little frightening, and I wondered... eyes. Return to the eyes. And in those eyes, I saw tears. One fully formed and hung for a moment before running down her cheek. Then another. I began to wonder if I had made some dreadful mistake, inadvertently playing with her feelings in this very intimate practice. Her chin quivered, and her mouth pinched as her eyes welled with tears.

She pitched herself forward into my arms as the tears burst, and she began sobbing into my shoulder, hands clutching me tight. “I see you; I see you,” she whispered between sobs, barely able to form the words, “and you see me.” She choked on the words, “No one has ever seen me before.” I held her close for quite a while, and we sat in silence, sharing space with one another.

I did not know what this meant, or what she experienced, and I would not know until we talked about it, but for now, her crying had ceased. She played with my hair and caressed my back with light fingers, tracing them over the areas that just days before she had scratched in the throes of passion. I pulled back enough to cup her chin, and we slowly kissed, unhurried or even aware of outside distractions, as if the world had ceased around us.

My arousal returned, and she felt it too as my manhood swelled, sliding along her thigh and pressing against the crease at her hip. “I want you inside me,” she whispered. “Please, Tom, make love to me.” I adjusted my seat, as my legs had cramped a little, and hefted her a bit, making her hold on to me as my legs uncrossed a little to where she was resting on my ankles, with the soles of my feet touching.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.” No quips, no jokes. I was afraid I had broken her. She just settled comfortably on me and reached her hand down to guide my again stiffened prick into her waiting gateway. I breathed in sharply as I entered her, or rather, she welcomed me in, and she tightened her grip on my back as she also made a breathy sound. We pulled each other closer as much as we could, and simply rested like that, stroking each other’s hair, and lightly caressing each other’s backs. We sat like that for a while, chakras aligned, heart to heart; unmoving.

I felt myself beginning to lose hardness, so I adjusted my seat a little, and her inner muscles contracted, slowly massaging me back to life. We did that dance a little, and I would have been satisfied to end it there, enjoying feeling unhurried intimacy and hoping she felt it too. But old habits die hard, and I wanted very much to feel her stiffen beneath me, shuddering as she cried out in pleasure, and so I started a rocking motion, pushing her forward with my body, and then pulling her towards me.

Her response was to open her eyes in delight, and then shower my face with kisses. She wiggled her butt to get more comfortable, and I freed one hand to pinch and tease one of her nipples while she pushed me a little further away so we could get more leverage for a wider rocking motion. We rocked back and forth, and I watched her face as she experienced sensations, and felt at times as though I were approaching climax, only to have it fade again. I thought she was cumming a few times, only to have her calm down and open her eyes, smiling at me.

“Are you alright?” I whispered at one point after we had been doing this for a while.

“Never better.”

I had to agree with that.

Eventually, I felt her muscles squeeze against me, caressing my still hard rod, and she let out a series of barely audible moans as I felt her tremble and hold me tight. I continued our rocking motion, and her trembling intensified as her pussy gripped me tighter and I could feel myself rising to climax.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she started whispering into my ear. “Oh Tom...” she trailed off.

“I’m here with you, Irina, I want you to have this.” She squirmed a little, and her moaning took on a higher pitch. It grew with greater intensity as we rocked, and between the slight friction we created and her internal spasms massaging and squeezing my cock, I knew that soon, I would cum too.

Soon, her breathing was heavy, and she almost seemed as if she were in pain. I became concerned that she would be able to cum like this, although I knew it was just a short matter of time for me. Rather than hold her with my arms around her, I placed my hands at the base of her ass cheeks, hoping to create a little more friction.

The simple act of grabbing her ass seemed to set her off. She didn’t stiffen, there was no tension, just the sound of her suddenly crying into my neck as she tightened her embrace and her whole body trembled and quivered. It was as if a dam had burst, and she was crying and moaning with complete abandon, her body shaking, and with each spasm that wracked her body, she became more relaxed, and her orgasm subsided.

I was filled with great joy at this and felt that familiar feeling welling up in my groin. It was as if my whole body felt it too, which was a new one for me, and I could instantly relate to why she started crying, as I felt tears well up in my eyes and wrapped my arms around her again, holding her tight against me as my entire body lit up and wave after wave of cum spasmed from my raging hard-on and pumped deeply into her. I heard myself let out a groan, and then a few wracking sobs as my own body shuddered from the deep pleasure I was feeling from being inside her.

“Oh Tom,” she cooed, “for me, for me.”

I’m not sure how long we sat like that, idly stroking each other’s skin and sighing into each other’s necks with tender kisses. But eventually I had to address my numb legs, and at least get some blood circulating. Reluctantly, she slowly got off of me, milky white cum dripping from her, and graciously helped me up when it was obvious I was challenged. I glanced around for a clock and realized it had been over two hours since I had first arrived. We looked at each other and I stiffly limped to the sink to get some water.

“You know, yoga can help with that, old man.”

And I chuckled. I hadn’t broken her, she was still my feisty dark-haired goddess.

She hadn’t moved and was standing and swaying where she had stood. “Are you alright?” I asked, finding a drinking glass in the cupboard and turning on the tap.

“Yes, just a little dizzy.” She glanced at me with a smirk. “Don’t say it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said in response, attempting not to smirk in return. I filled my glass as she walked stiffly to the sliding glass doors overlooking the backyard. It was still hot and muggy out, but she opened the door and motioned for me to follow. We were both a little sweaty despite not moving much, so a little extra couldn’t hurt.

Once outside she sat on the chaise and extended her arms to welcome me. It was pleasant being outside with complete privacy, feeling the warm air against my skin and the sun shining on parts that never saw it. I drank some of my water and extended the glass to her and she gladly finished it. I set the empty glass carefully on the round patio table and joined her on the chaise.

She lay back and pulled me with her, and we wrapped our arms around one another with our faces next to each other. She sighed and snuggled closer. It was nice being there with her, outside in the sunlight. Some time passed before Irina spoke.

“Tom, what are you doing with me?”

“I’m lying here with you in the sun.”

“Smart ass.” She poked me.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?”

“With me. Why are you with me?”

“Because you invited me?”

“No, I mean…” She pulled back a little so she could look at me. “Why are you not with someone else? All those people at the studio, your friend Ray; they all love and respect you. Some of those women in your class would gladly have you, and at least one was not happy to see me there.”

“Irina, you must be reading something into that. None of them are interested in me and no one knows about us. Except Ray. He somehow figured it out.”

Irina laughed. “See? Ray saw it. Oh Tom, women know. Trust me.” She pushed the hair off of my forehead. “Do you want to know why I cried when you were looking into my eyes?”

“Yes, actually, I would.” I sat up a little. This was the closest to a serious conversation we had had so far.

“My ex-husband, Jake’s father, he was, well, he wasn’t a good man, let’s just put it like that. I spent several years getting away from all of that, and lived with an equally,” she paused, looking for the right word, “equally abusive woman.” She stopped, smoothing my hair back from my face again.

“Is that why Jake refers to you as gay?” She nodded. “I’m sorry, Irina.” I really didn’t know how to respond to this admission.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, not physically abusive, but emotionally…” She paused again. “I just never felt I had value. Like I wasn’t good enough.” She placed her hand on my cheek. “And it’s not like they were such great, worthwhile people. I didn’t see it at the time but now I know they were just selfish, trying to make themselves feel worthwhile too.”

She leaned forward to kiss me, and then looked me in the eye. “I’m sure it’s wishful thinking, but when we were looking at each other, I saw…” She stopped, and it sounded like she was getting a little choked up. “I saw love.”

“Irina…”

“I know you don’t love me like that, and I don’t expect you to, but that’s what I felt. Like I was safe with you. Like I was enough.”

“You are enough.”

“But you don’t know me,” she interjected. “I felt as though you saw me, all the way down, and you…” She choked back her words, tears welling in her eyes. “You saw me, and I still felt you… you loved me.” She sniffed as a single tear rolled down her cheek. I kissed it and made a point of tasting it. Salty, like the sea.

“A woman’s tears are a powerful drug,” she whispered, “Careful Mr. Yoga Man, you might get trapped.”

“I could live with that,” I whispered as I leaned in to kiss her again.

“I would never do that. I do use birth control by the way, so you don’t need to worry about getting me pregnant.”

I laughed. “Vasectomy.”

“Tom,” she sighed, “I just don’t want you wake up one day and decide I’m not worth it. I’m not sure I am.” Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she sniffed again. “You,” she started, choking back the word, “you made me feel like I might be.”

She started crying again, and I held her. At least I didn’t have to worry about getting tears on my shirt. When she was done, I wiped her tears away as best I could and kissed her on the nose.

“Look, Irina,” I said in a soft voice, “I don’t know what will happen. I can’t say if I’ll fall in love with you or not, but I hope I do.” Her eyes snapped to mine. “Right now I am enjoying getting to know you and exploring you and I’m enjoying getting to know myself again.” For some reason I felt tears gathering in my eyes too, and continued. “You are worthwhile and it doesn’t matter if I or anyone else sees that or not. The only people that will ever matter are the ones who recognize that.” I stopped for a moment, swallowed and continued. “We’ve only known each other a short period, but I want to know more and we still have a lot of exploring to do.” I stopped because she suddenly smiled a little, and I had to chuckle too. She shivered as I trailed my finger down her body, barely touching her, and squeezed her ass for emphasis. “A lot of exploring.”

She laughed at that. “Tom, I know you’ll treat me right. I’ll try to trust you and hopefully, you’ll trust me. Just be honest with me and when you get bored, let me down gently.”

“Of course, Irina. Pinky promise?” She curled her pinky around mine. Half lying on her, my body curled around her hip, I wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn my pasty white ass. “We might want to get some sunscreen on my pale parts.”

“Oh, of course.” We started to get up. “So, Tom…” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Yes?”

“When do you think you’ll be ready for some more exploring?”

“That depends,” I replied, delivering a sharp smack on her irresistible ass. “Do you have any chocolate syrup?”