This is the fourth story in a series describing Adam's first sexual experiences, a lot of which involve public nudity. I recommend reading them in order.
Chronologically, most of this series comes before "Adam in Asia", but it doesn't matter which one you read first.
All participants are 18 or over.
Prologue
My name is Adam. I am 19 years old, and I live in London with my mother.
Meet the parent
I was driving my new car, a second-hand Mini, on the M25 motorway/carpark that encircles London. Traffic was heavy. I was not past Heathrow, and it had taken over an hour already. It was the longest I had ever driven before, and twice that still to come. Still, I was going to spend a week with Nathalie, a sexy French girl whom I had met a few months earlier.
We met on a film set in France. I was playing the part of a young Englishman out of his depth, and she was a production assistant whose main job was to make sure that I was in the right place at the right time. We had a similar sense of humour and got on well from the start. Unsurprisingly, we ended up in bed together.
It was a relief to find that traffic was flowing smoothly on the M40 towards Oxford. As an inexperienced driver, I was focused on my own driving and the vehicles around me, but I was able to take in some of the surrounding countryside. I left the motorway near Banbury, which is where things got tricky. Being alone in the car meant I had to navigate myself. I stopped frequently to check the map and Nat's notes. At last, I found myself driving into the pretty little village of Compton Dennis, then making the final turn onto Manor Lane.
I knew that Nathalie's mum ran some sort of training centre, but I did not know what to expect. What I found was an old stone manor house, a wood-clad barn, and some other buildings that looked more modern.
As I got my bag from the car, Nat appeared. With an excited squeal, she ran across and gave me a big hug and a sloppy kiss.
"Eugh, you're all sweaty!"
She was right. Four hours in the middle of summer in a car without aircon, plus the stress of driving and navigating myself for the first time, had taken a toll, and the back of my shirt was soaking wet.
"It's cool inside, come on. But I must warn you that Mother is 'full-on' today."
I had no idea what she meant by 'full-on', but 'cool' sounded good.
Inside, a tall, black woman was standing at the stove, stirring a pan.
"I'm Chantal, and you must be Adam. Give me a hug," she said, stepping forward.
Nat and I tried to warn her, but it was too late.
"Oh," she exclaimed.
I expected her to step away in disgust, but instead, she pulled me closer, her substantial breasts pressing against me.
"I love a man with a bit of sweat on, but you probably need rehydrating. Nathalie, get him a drink."
Chantal's attention was having an effect, and she knew it.
"Mum, if you don't put him down, I'll pour this cold water over you!" Nat demanded.
Gratefully, I took the offered glass, draining it in one go.
"Right, Adam, welcome to Manor Farm. I am delighted you are here, as I need an extra man for the weekend. I assume that you will be sleeping with my daughter, but if not, there's plenty of space in my bed.
"Now, Nathalie, go and give the man a shower before he starts to smell like one of the animals around here."
"Mum, he can shower himself," she replied with exasperation.
"I'm sure he can, but it won't be as much fun. Off you go!"
Together in the shower, I asked, "Is that what you meant by 'full-on'?"
"That's only about 'half-on'. My mother is full of contradictions: black woman, wealthy family, Cambridge graduate, diplomat, mother, hippy, English woman, French ex-husband. You never know which you will get, and sometimes they all turn up at once. Ultimately, I think that is why she and Dad split up.
"Given half a chance, she probably would have you in bed, so I'll try not to leave you unguarded."
"Could be fun!" I joked; Nat rewarded me with a punch on the arm.
"What did she mean about needing an extra man?"
"Probably there are more women than men signed up for this weekend. So, you," she jabbed a finger at me, "are going to be doing a yoga course!"
Over dinner, Chantal explained how the place worked. People hired the centre for residential courses, mostly covering arts like creative writing, painting, and photography. They could use the barn, the old machine shed or be out in the countryside according to the weather and their needs. Sessions varied between a few days and a week. Some of the villagers helped with cooking and cleaning.
"We've had a group of birdwatchers in this week. They will be leaving tomorrow, so I'll be busy changing sheets and the like. On Friday, people will be arriving for a yoga retreat over the long weekend. I'm leading that, and you two are going to be taking part."
Nathalie groaned, "Must we?"
"Yes, I am short of men, so you two will be making up the numbers.
"The food will be 'hard tack', but you will survive."
"She means vegetarian," explained Nat, "but don't worry, I know where the meat is stashed, and the pub does a great sausage and mash."
It dawned on me that we had not discussed what we would be doing during my visit. Now it seemed like a decision had been made for us.
Tired from the long drive, I was yawning my head off.
"Take him to bed and fuck him to sleep," instructed Chantal, "it will be an early start!"
"Mum, potty mouth!" complained Nathalie, but she did as she was told. She did most of the work: removing my clothes, pushing me back on the bed for a slow blowjob, and then mounting me.
She was full-breasted and curvy, with a mass of frizzy hair. It was a magnificent view and the sex was great, but as I fell asleep, I could not help wondering what it would be like with her mother. Was she really the man-eater that she appeared to be?
~
The door slammed open. Chantal stood in the doorway. It appeared to be morning outside.
"Time to get up sleepyheads, get a move on, downstairs in 5 minutes."
"Mum," Nathalie groaned, "I told you we wanted a lie-in."
"This is a lie-in; I gave you an extra hour! Chop-chop!"
"Fuck off," Nat said to an empty doorway.
"We'd better get up or she'll be back with a bucket of cold water."
She threw a bathrobe at me. "Put that on, you won't need anything else."
"What are we doing?"
"Yoga," was the exasperated reply.
In the kitchen, Chantal handed us a rolled-up mat each and led the way outside.
"Just follow me," she instructed, spreading her mat on the lawn by the house.
I should have realised what was about to happen, but I was still half asleep. Chantal and Nathalie shed their robes, giving me a view of two beautiful naked women. A frosty look from the older one and a giggle from the younger brought me around. I shed mine too.
The breeze on my genitals reminded me of the situation. I was standing outside with two women, all of us nude, and about to do... something. My dick started to stiffen.
We started standing with our hands at our sides; that was easy enough. Arms up, bend forward, drop into a sort of press up, bend up, bend down. I was watching Chantal, trying to follow her lead, but where she was smooth and graceful, I was an uncoordinated mess. Nathalie laughing at me was not helping. I collapsed in a heap before they had even finished the sequence.
"That was 'Salute to the Sun'. We do it every morning here. Don't worry, you will get the hang of it," offered Chantal, donning her robe.
Over breakfast, Nat explained that her mother did the routine every morning, preferably outside and nude.
"I think the locals are used to it now, but the postman still has his leg pulled about driving into one of the gateposts when he first saw her doing it."
"I kind of get it," I said, surprised at my reaction. "It felt good, even though I must have looked like Bambi on ice."
"We'll make a yogi of you yet," beamed Chantal.
By lunchtime, the birdwatchers had all taken flight, leaving Chantal, Nathalie, and a couple of women from the village to prepare for the next group. I pitched in where I could, happy to help, and by evening, the rooms were all ready. The next day, Friday, was all about preparing food.
After another superb dinner cooked by Chantal, Nathalie and I spent the evening in the village pub, the Spinner's Arms, returning 'a little the worse for wear'.
~
"Rise and shine, the sun's burning your bloody eyeballs out!"
Chantal.
Another gentle re-entry into the world lost forever.
"Ugh," was the best I could manage, until I remembered how good 'Salute to the Sun' had felt yesterday.
It felt good again today as the breeze explored my body, the sun warmed my skin, and my muscles responded to the exercise. The presence of two naked women helped.
Later that morning, I drove us into Chipping Norton to have a look around the historic market town. After lunch in The King's Arms, we picked up some groceries for Chantal and headed home.
The first of the yoga class, a middle-aged couple, had arrived and were gamely helping Chantal in the kitchen attached to the accommodation block. Huge pans of lentils and vegetables were simmering on top of the industrial stove. Each needed stirring frequently. Nathalie was put in charge of welcoming new arrivals, which trumped my ideas about spending the afternoon in bed together.
By 7 pm, most of the guests had arrived, so dinner was served at a long trestle table in "The Shed". The group was a mixture of young and old, singles and couples. I found myself seated between a couple named Alan and Bridget, who had been to Manor Farm before, and a young woman named Angela, who was on her first yoga retreat.
"I have been to a few evening classes, but I wanted to get stuck in," she explained.
Of course, they wanted to know about me, too.
They assumed that I was another guest until Bridget asked how long I had been doing yoga. 'About 36 hours' was an answer that needed some explanation. The idea of doing 'Salute to the Sun' every morning appealed to them all; I didn't mention the nudity bit.
At the end of the meal, Chantal announced that we would be starting at 7:30 am on the lawn outside. Then everybody helped clear the tables, which I thought was nice. They seemed to be a thoroughly pleasant group of people; I wondered how they would cope with her bullying them the next morning.
As Nathalie and I headed for bed, her mother told us tomorrow's 'Salute' would be clothing optional, so she had left something suitable on our bed. Sure enough, there were some clothes there, but we cast them aside in a rush to fuck.
