It was our first nude yoga class, and the Florida heat had nothing on the tension between us.
Carol and I, both in our athletic fifties, stepped into the private yoga studio in Tampa, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity.
Carol, ever graceful, moved with calm confidence, her slim figure and pert curves drawing subtle glances even before the session began.
Her brown eyes met mine with a playful flicker, as if she already sensed the night's unraveling path.
The instructor, Andrew, arrived last. Young, toned, and tanned with an Italian air of confidence, he moved like someone used to being watched,?and enjoying it. He was hung like a horse.
His eyes found Carol within minutes.
She stood tall in mountain pose, and I caught the subtle hitch of her breath when Andrew approached her from behind.
"Let your hips relax more," he said softly, guiding her hands upward. His fingers grazed her sides, drifting a little too far over the curve of her breast.
Carol didn't flinch. She just exhaled and let him adjust her.
I tried to stay centered, focused on my own breathing but it was impossible to ignore the energy between them.
Andrew hovered around Carol throughout the session, correcting her posture far more than anyone else's.
During downward dog, he knelt behind her and slowly rubbed circles into her lower back, his palms sliding lower until they openly cupped her ass. Carol shifted her stance slightly, almost inviting him.
I watched, stunned, blood rushing to places that had nothing to do with yoga.
Then came happy baby pose. Carol lay on her back, legs lifted, pussy completely exposed.
Andrew stood above her, gently pressing her thighs apart, his face just inches from her bare pussy's glistening center. He didn't rush. He adjusted her as if it were part of the flow, but the way his fingers lingered, his focus entirely on her. pussy, there was no mistaking his desire.
I stayed in head-to-knee, my cock thick and twitching, knowing everyone else could see what was happening and that I wasn't stopping it.
Carol wasn't either. She was letting it happen. Almost wanting it.
The class ended with a brief relaxation pose. I lay on my mat, breath ragged.
Carol sat cross-legged while Andrew knelt before her, taking her feet into his hands and beginning a slow massage. She closed her eyes and let him work, moaning softly. When he finished, he brought her toes to his lips and kissed each one gently.
Carol looked at me and smiled like nothing was out of the ordinary. Then she leaned over and whispered: "I want a private session. Just Andrew. You can come... and watch."
The next afternoon, we returned. The studio was empty except for the three of us. Carol got naked without hesitation, her eyes locked on mine as she undressed.
Carol noticed how Andrew was hung.
Andrew watched her openly, licking his lips. I stood aside, naked, already hard, watching.
Carol stepped onto the mat and bent into her first pose.
"Watch closely," she said to me, her voice low. "You'll see how flexible I can be when I'm inspired."
Andrew guided her into poses slowly, intimately, his hands always exploring just beyond what seemed necessary.
Carol didn't stop him. She moved with grace, but her eyes flicked to me often, watching my reaction as he touched her: pressing his palm against her bare ass, grazing the side of her tits, cupping her hip while pulling her deeper into a stretch.
He positioned her in warrior two, then stepped behind her, his chest flush to her back. His hands slid down her arms, to her waist, then lower to her ass.!She stayed perfectly still.
Her nipples were hard.
