Notes for Reader. A small amount of French is used in this story. For any non french speaking people the keys words are:
Mon petite = My little | Oui = Yes | Monsieur = Sir
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PART ONE
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Whenever Bernadette went to her hot yoga class it was inevitable her mojo would perk up. 30 sweaty bodies of all shapes and sizes packed into a relatively small, blow up, purple tent. Tent wouldn't be doing the hot pod she frequented justice though. It was like stepping into the warmth of a moist velvet pussy. The design was near perfect for the symbolism. A small round zipped entrance which you needed to duck when you stepped in, veiled by the flap which when pulled back, would reveal the humid womb within.
Welcomed by a very low lit padded studio, the ceiling closed around you in a tunnel which offered rib upon rib of purple serenity. It often skipped through Bernie's mind she would like to meet the hot pod designer and congratulate them on their inspired creation. It always set her mood just right.
The class itself was challenging, the 40 degree heat was one thing. The twisting and contouring of bodies was another. Needless to say it was hard to resist the temptation to look. The smallest and tightest of yoga gear was the general dress code and were purposefully made for revealing stomachs, arses, abs and tits. From silicon mountains that hardly moved to natural double F's that fell heavily, even when the owner was wearing 2 support bras. Bernie's favourite breasts to look at were like her's fairly petite and no need for a bra at all.
It was almost impossible not to think about sex in the pod, for Bernie and her raging mojo at least. In one pose, the humble warrior, the class would lean down over their front leg, bowing to the ground with their arms clasped tightly behind them. Fingers locked and then drawn up behind them. If a man was to take advantage of a pose like this, the woman would be completely subservient to his desires. Pushing her arms higher, she would be pinned in an arm lock and have no defence against a strong penetrating cock from behind.
Looking between her legs, Bernie could see a row of tits tumbling over tops. The big tits would almost suffocate their owners whereas the seemingly flat chests, rolled upwards towards the chin to create a beautiful bulge and the most perfect cleavage. This was the other sexual position Bernie thought could be interesting. Tit wank or blow job from the humble warrior. Oh it would be a fascinating class if she ever got to teach one. Her creative ideas and suggestions of adding extra play into the mix would be most enlightening, she was sure of it.
Bernie was a MILF and proud of her body, not so much the ironing board stomach, pumped hips and filler lips which the younger attendees seemed to love. Her's was natural, full of flexibility and grace which she put into every class. A continuous cycle of breathing and movement she likened to a bedroom work out. Measured, judged and purposeful. The pelvic muscle pulled in and tightened, limbs stretching and sweat pouring.
A few men attended yoga from time to time but never the type Bernie would go for. Rugby players or folks fighting the middle aged spread. One seriously hot teacher but she could never go there. She wouldn't be able to come to the class anymore if it all went wrong and the sex disappointing. Or if it really good and she went bunny boiler on him. As hot as he was, lose, lose with that one, Bernie had quickly concluded but he was always nice to look at.
So on an average Monday as Bernadette warmed up, an Adonis lined up next to her. Immediately she could feel an energy between them. Was she imagining it? A rush of tingles that made her pussy instantly awake. From her side, the feeling was tangibly real but he didn't look over. No one talked in a yoga class but hell, she was going to enjoy taking in the sights of her next door neighbour today.
His muscle tone was perfect, his naked torso revealed and reflected the twelve ribs of the pod only now they hugged his chest. The sweat glistened, as he swan dived down from a plank then up into a half press up or upward dog as the teacher called it. Hips trusting forward almost humping the ground, Bernie couldn't help but want to be his mat feeling him glide across her body. Alas, the end of the class came too soon, as the teacher thanked everyone for their mindfulness and reminder to wipe their yoga mats, Bernie passed the hot guy a hand towel.
'Merci' he replied. Oh god dam could he get any sexier?! French too, Bernie adored an accent. She liked nothing better than to be whispered to in her ear telling her all the deviant desires her lover would like to do to her. All that, with an accent too, that was totally her thing.
The minute everyone stepped out of the warmth of the pod the cold would instantly hit like opening a fridge. Bernie's nipples became similar to hard nuts, poking out of her top and clearly visible as she reached up to put her mat back on the rails. Being small she always had to be on tippy toes to put them back. Struggling a little, she felt a body move in behind her, a dick rub against her skin tight yoga pants and a strong arm reach over to hook her mat into place. Not wanting to break the moment of welcomed non-consensual contact, firm dick pressing into her cheek, Bernie casually turned her head, smiled and said 'thank you, monsieur.' And she really did mean every bit of the Sir.
Exiting the showers there was a little disappointed to see only her trainers in the locker. Chatting to the teacher and collecting her stuff, Bernie walked out into the bright sunshine and towards the car park feeling vibrant. Distracted and fiddling on her phone, she didn't notice the French man leaning against her car and Bernie was slightly taken aback to see him.
'Are you waiting for me?' She asked quizzically.
'Yes' he replied. 'I believe we have something. Did you feel it?'
Bernadette stood there almost speechless as the hot French guy started to trace his finger across her face and circle the lines of her lips. There was no mistaking his intention, it was just too perfect. She didn't need to reply with words either as she leaned in to kiss him. Tongues exploring the playful roles of sexual interaction and their individual approach to touch. Dopamine pumping, this was every bit of her yoga fantasy.
Breaking away from the kiss he said 'Come, I have a motor bike and I want to take you to mine to practice some kinky kama sutra. Does that sound interesting to you?'
Bernie's mind was racing, this is all she ever thought of when in the class, a hot guy that can stand on his head unaided. Body of a ripped surfer, and the added bonus of the most alluring accent on the planet, asking her to have kinky sex with him. But she didn't even know his name. Or where he lived. It was a mad idea but Bernie's mojo was totally spurred on by lust and French allure.
'Kinky kama sutra you say?! Do you have a spare helmet?'