A Secret Revealed

My ex wife and I lay in our respective beds, each wiped out from masturbating. Beth, alone in her room, spent a little too long primping for her affair with a yoga instructor, feeling the immediate urge to pleasure herself. I, alone in my room, watching Beth secretly on my television thanks to a forgotten Skype call.

I stared in post orgasmic bliss at her white butt in front of me as she lay on her stomach, recovering. I enjoyed my own post orgasmic bliss with eyes half open, still wishing I could walk through my television. With the camera on, my son had turned off a hurried request for his shoes. But, he did not shut down the internet connection. The impatience Beth always showed towards Tom and his forgetfulness had paid off.

Gently lifting her head, Beth looked at the clock next to her bed. It was now 11:40am. She had told Ken, the yoga instructor, that she would be there by noon. With her husband away for the Saturday with their 1 plus year old daughter, Beth had planned for a mischievous day. But, alone, a housewife sometimes needs some one-on-one time with her vagina.

Wriggling up her yoga pants, organizing herself, Beth's naked ass disappeared. Though not entirely, as the white yoga pants were partially transparent and Beth started her day without underwear. Without bra also, Beth turned around and tucked her oversized, nursing breasts into her loose fitting half shirt. The dark, excessively large nipples quickly hid themselves from my view. Although back in her yoga outfit, it was going to be hard to get much yoga done in it with her tits flopping around.

Grabbing her phone, Beth dialed and then held it up to her ear. Apparently someone had answered.

"Hey. It's me. Listen... I ran into a problem and was wondering if we could meet at 2?"

Ran into a problem. Ha. More like rubbed out a problem. Her face frowned slightly.

"Yea. I'm really sorry. I promise I'll make it worth it."

Beth's tone would have melted any man. The intention was clear as her deep blue eyes looked coy and mischievous as her lips smiled wryly.

"I've got something I think you'll like..."

Beth's smile became bigger.

"Noo.... It's much bigger than that. You'll just have to be patient."

After a simple goodbye, Beth hung up her phone. She collapsed back in bed, onto her comforter, and shut her eyes. Then, she opened them again, grabbed her phone, and set what I assumed to be an alarm. With one last sigh, Beth lay back and faded off to sleep.

I lay in bed with my ex wife sleeping on the other side of the television. I wondered how she found herself in an affair? What could have caused it? Boredom? I couldn't believe that, being a member of numerous clubs. Always being a social butterfly, with plenty of friends in the town she grew up in.

Her husband Frank, though much shorter than me, wasn't awful to look at. He seemed to have a good job, though I didn't really know what he did. I'd never seen him impatient or treat Beth in any way other than loving and respectful. So what was it?

I ended on her beauty. Beth grew up an attractive Lacrosse player in High School, always popular, and fit. I didn't know her in High School, but her class picture was stunning. She arrived to college 2 years after me, and we dated from the moment we met at a mutual friends. I had always known people to fawn over her blonde hair, compliment her princess like appearance, delicate beauty, and majestic confidence.

Every person we met would compliment me on how pretty she was, ask if she was a model. But, she was just a 5 foot 6 mom. And, as she grew older, became more of a mother, I guessed she needed to look harder for the compliments. The fawning. The affection. And what else does a yoga instructor do other than tell his class and students how good they look. How fit they are. He isn't going to say anything else. Not if he wants to get more clients.

I could have been totally off base, but I considered myself smart enough to know Beth and her tendencies. She may never admit it, not even to herself. But, I was pretty confident her weakness was her beauty. It proved to be mine.

Slowly, I got myself out of bed and headed to the shower. I figured all shows for the day were over. The warm water relaxed my body, cleaned the sleep from my head, and I finished refreshed and ready for the rest of my day. Being a Saturday, I skipped the shave and walked into my room, seeing Beth still asleep. It was 1:10pm. If she was getting anywhere by 2pm, she was cutting it close.

I got on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and organized my bed, trying to clean it up from last nights and this mornings fun with Beth. It was a pretty close tie between watching her bend over for her husband the night before, letting him lick her butt, and watching her bend over for me this morning, spreading her butt. I guess I had to lean towards the morning since it was just the two of us. A three way with two men was not really my style after all.

As I got dressed, Beth's alarm went off. 1:15pm. I stopped in the middle of pulling up my pants, watching her reaction. She rolled gently to her side as she grabbed the phone, turned off the alarm, and lay on her back. Sill in her yoga outfit of white pants and a tank style tee shirt, Beth rubbed her face and pushed her hands back through her hair. Her blue eyes opened wide, stretching out her skin, letting the light seep into her pupils to wake her brain.

With little fanfare, she slipped out of bed and back into the bathroom. The yoga pants hung tightly to her cute, round ass. The small of her back was exposed from the shortness of her shirt. I cringed at the sight of her back dimples again. Beth got right to work repairing her appearance, grabbing the hairdryer to blow the mess out of her hair.

The show from this morning was repeating itself. I'd already seen Beth's primping and pampering of herself result in a pleasuring of herself. I grabbed my socks, ran a comb through my hair, and zipped out of my room. There was a decision I had made as soon as I woke up from the brief nap. I was going to see who the hell this Ken guy was.

I found myself running through the house and out to my car. Not because I was worried Beth would get there before me. Not because I was late. But, because I was excited. Eager to see what type of guy Beth would have an affair with. Meet the man behind the curtain. The source of her sexual role play with her husband. The source of her sexual role play without her ex-husband. I was going to find out her secret.

I remembered the name of the place and googled it as I drove. Lucky for me, there was only one Bikram yoga in town. And lucky for me, I knew right where it was when I saw it on the map. In the same strip mall as the Whole Foods, almost directly above the Starbucks. It was the perfect hunting ground for any Yoga instructor looking to fill a class with rich milfs desperate for attention, needing to shed a few pounds after plopping out a baby.

Driving down the road, I pictured all the woman sitting in Starbucks, chatting friendly with each other over the latest stroller fashion, or how artistic their little 2 year old Timmy was, or that Samantha was already learning French at 3. And, one at a time, every 10 minutes, they would leave and walk up for a private yoga lesson, letting themselves be directed and manipulated in ways that they never allowed their husbands. They didn't have to live with a yoga instructor and keep his respect.

I slammed on my brakes, almost ramming the car in front of me. Beth was probably just getting ready to leave her house, so I didn't have much time. Getting into an accident was not an option. I gathered myself and focussed on the task at hand, driving, stopping for the next light, moving into the turn lane, and finally arriving at the mall.

I didn't dare park right up front and have Beth recognize my car. Not that she would care or notice, but still, I felt there was no need to risk it. Finding a spot behind the building, I walked to the side entrance. It was one of those upscale malls that had the usual Starbucks, Panera, Bath and Body Works, and a bunch of other odds and ends stores on the first level. The second level was offices, jewelry, a tanning spa, and apparently the yoga studio. I opened the door and strolled up the stairs.

There was no definite plan that I had. Instead, I was just moving forward, making decisions as they came to me. I started to think I could just walk in and ask for some information. Say that a friend of mine in the class had recommended him, that I was just trying to get in shape for an up and coming vacation. The usual.

The studio was in the back left, the last door to the last business. My heart began to beat faster as I walked towards the door, expecting him to open it and yell "Get the fuck out of here!" But, that was insane. We had never met. He had no idea who I was. I just needed to act like I was supposed to be there.

"Closed." The sign hung on the door, showing the hours of operation to be Monday through Friday only, 10am to 8pm. I was at the wrong place.

"Shit."

The glass door led to a small waiting room of about 10 chairs. It wasn't as formal as a Dentist's office, but still had an organized, professional look to it. The chairs looked more functional, wide and without arm rests. I guessed it was some type of prep area. The place sure didn't look closed with all of the lights on. A wipe board was on the wall opposite of me. "Ken's Challenges!" was at the top, with a bunch of yoga terms after. Apparently, this was not the wrong place.

I tried the door. It opened quietly into the room, welcoming me into his dojo. I mumbled at my own stupidity. Of course there wasn't going to be yoga customers coming and going, chatting happily about there workout or the soon to be arriving customer Beth. Obviously this type of activity had to occur around normal business hours.

I stood in the room, wondering what my next step should be. I thought of yelling for someone, calling out the fact that I existed. Instead, the secretive nature of the entire affair kept me quiet. I moved across the room to a door that had light spilling in from under it. Next to it, on a different wall, was another door. It was dark with the word "Office" on a plaque. Below it was some motivational crap that started with, in bold letters, "Yoga, Why We Do It!"

I was not interested in the "whys." I wanted to know the "whos." Turning the handle gently on the lit door, I slowly pulled it open, expecting to uncover some devious operation on the other side. Who knows what goes on in these yoga studios. The liberals and hippies could be planning some bizarre world takeover based on the incredible stench they create during their workouts.

"Hello?"

Nobody answered. Instead, I found another empty room. Nothing sinister. Just all walls, no windows, with a few mirrors that allowed the class to watch themselves work. A carpeted prep or small workout area was to the right, and to the left, a large open area with wood floors. Large balls lined the far left wall, and to the right, a few more could be seen. Not seeing anyone, I didn't look around and quickly shut the door.

The office was all that was left. I did the typical knock and open at the same time with an inquisitive "Hello?" Again, nobody. I found a light switch and flicked it on. Just a a small, windowless office with a desk right in front of me. Instead of finding Ken looking up at me from it with a quizzical face, I found people on the walls in various yoga poses, all smiling back at me. Happy to see me. Hell, they looked thrilled to see me.

One cheerful poster was of a man, legs perfectly straight, bent over at the waist, laying his hands flat on the ground, forming a perfect triangle. For a brief moment, I found that I was admiring his ass.

Next to him was a woman, on her hands and knees, extending one leg back and towards the sky. So, I guess it was hands and one knee that she was on.

And on the wall next to her was a woman on her legs, bending her stomach away from the ground so that her chest pointed right out in front of her.

Another woman, in some kind of upside down position, with her hands and legs both on the ground, pelvis thrust high into the air, breasts stretched tight, and head hanging down.

As wild and as obscene as some of the poses were that I was looking at, they were all being done in essentially what looked like underwear. Sports bras and boy shorts, except the guys did not have the sports bras. I couldn't help but find myself aroused and attracted to every woman in each picture. Yoga really just seemed to be an anglo saxon version of the Karma Sutra in a group setting. Caligula would be proud.

Behind Ken's desk was some larger chart with various positions and names under each one. Childs Pose. Cobra. Locust. Tree. Boat. On and on, each with a scantily clad woman displaying her body in a way I could never imagine Beth posing in. There was not one position I could have ever asked her to strike for me in our 10 years of marriage without her calling me a creep or that it wouldn't make her feel comfortable. I stared at the image labeled "Downward Dog" and wondered who in the hell was the charismatic man that talked the first woman in the world to place herself in that position. Jesus christ.

Suddenly, I heard the front door close. I panicked, knowing I was in an office I should not be in. Instinctively, I opened the closet next to me and deftly slipped in, shutting the door softly. I listened intently, trying to determine if my presence was known or not. The office door stayed closed. Was it Beth? Ready for her appointment? Or Ken, returning from some quick errand? I stared at the door, surprised at the bright light that was shining on it. I turned around, curious.

I had entered a fairly large walk in closet. To my left was a long row of hanging clothes, mostly T Shirts and Yoga pants. Apparently Ken sold his own product as a way to supplement his income, whatever it was that yoga instructors made. And across from me was an assortment of small weights, shoes, and other crap a guy might gather if he was performing the yoga. But, what my eyes had instantly locked onto was the strange scene before me.

The light in the closet was streaming in from a rough three foot wide cut out in the wall that extended from the base of the floor to six feet in height. I was staring through the opening and into the small private workout area that was to the right in Ken's studio. He had apparently put up a one way mirror in a strategic location to spy on his class or students. As invasive or perverted as this was, the tripod and camera in front of me sealed the purpose. Ken filmed his students.

And I have to be honest. After looking at the woman on the walls, in their poses, with the small amount of clothing that they wore, I might have come up with the same setup. The butt hugging spandex. The chest thrusting sports bras. The leg spreading, butt arching poses. The yoga pant didn't invent the camel toe, but it sure as hell showed the world how to make a good thing better.

Looking out into the practice room, Ken appeared. I could instantly see the attraction for Beth. For any woman. Tall, with loose fitting sweat pants and a t shirt that showed his slim but muscular frame, Ken looked fresh out of college. He might have even been in college judging by the youthful appearance of his face. A full and neatly sculpted head of hair. A face that was roman in features but masculine in appearance. I suppose the best way to describe his was a tall body double for Brad Pitt.

Ken put the bag down along the wall. A Bath and Body bag. I guessed it focussed more on the body than the bath, not seeing a bath anywhere around. Ken walked right towards me, looking at the mirror. I moved to the back left, thinking I might have given myself away somehow. Instead, Ken bent down and positioned a large yoga matt right in front of the mirror.

A ringing broke the silence. Panicked, I grabbed my phone, frantic to shut it off. Thankfully, it was not mine. As Ken answered his, I made sure to turn mine off.

"Dude. What's up."

I was surprised at the clarity of his voice. He stood up, walking away.

"I know. I can't. My noon changed to two."

I watched him move out of sight and back towards the door. His words became muffled as he left the room. The office door opened. I couldn't just stand in the middle of the closet, waiting to be caught. So, I slinked to the far back, behind the hanging t shirts and yoga pants. His voice was louder, closer.

"Yea. Some milf. But man, she may be old, but she is cute."

Beth would not have wanted to hear herself as "old." My smile, however, turned to panic as the door opened. I froze, waiting to be discovered.

"My god, get this, though. She's not just a milf, she's a fucking milky milf."

I heard some noises as Ken seemed to be adjusting and focussing on the camera. Then, with an audible beep, Ken shut the door. I sighed, relieved that my hiding spot was not discovered. I listened as he kept talking.

"Seriously. Man, it is incredible. I mean..."

Ken walked out of his office and the conversation tailed off. Ken was obviously well aware that Beth was nursing. And, it sounded like he had some first hand experience, some who knows what time with Beth, that excited him to no end. I could certainly appreciate his lust for Beth's chest when nursing. I experienced the same feeling on a daily basis when we were married, and for that matter, when we weren't. The door opened again.

"I swear it, dude. You've got to... Hang on."

I slowly crept out from my corner, not wanting to make a sound. Once again free, I looked at the camera and saw that Ken had turned it on. I could see a faint green light to indicate power. Nothing more. It was about three feet away from the wall, four feet high, and pointing at a slight downward angle. I got down on my stomach, slid forward, and placed my head up to the mirror.

I found Ken looking at his phone, typing away. My position was fairly comfortable on the soft carpet, lying down, looking into his studio. I wondered how many woman he had recorded, doing who knows what. I thought of the yoga demographic, the young woman, incredibly fit and desperate to keep their tight bodies. The moms, past their prime, willing to do anything to try and restore their body. The High School girls, not wanting to miss any trend, willing to break any rule or moral barrier to show their independence. Ken's possibilities were endless.

"I've got to go. She's here. I'll tell you more later."

With that, Ken hung up and put his phone down on the floor next to his purchases. He walked over to the mirror, inspecting himself in the grey yoga sweats and simple white t shirt. His body didn't have a single hair on it. His face was chiseled and freshly shaven. Ken ran his hands through his hair, making one last adjustment. Then, he just stood still and inhaled, deeply, holding his breath, flexing every muscle in his body, staring at himself.

30 seconds. 60 seconds. 90 seconds. Finally, at what seemed like a full two minutes, Ken slowly exhaled, face red and flushed. His body was ready. His heart was ready. His mind was ready. Slipping his hands into his pants, Ken adjusted himself. His penis was ready.

A knock was heard, followed by a spirited "Hulllooooo?"

We both turned to watch Beth arrive, smiling, in a long black down coat, holding two coffees on a tray. Her blonde hair had returned to the golden elegance the world was accustomed to. The ruby red had been restored to her lips. The deep blue of her eyes sparkled. The soft paleness of her skin contrasted the deep black of her coat. Beth did not disappoint when it came to making herself up. She looked like she was ready for a modeling session. Remembering the camera, I guess that's exactly what she was going to do.