Yoga Exhibitionism and Desire

There was a time when all our group of couples went away to celebrate something or other. I think someone had a 'big' birthday perhaps. Whatever it was, we all made sure that kids and pets would be well looked after while we were away, and we prioritised a weekend trip in a big house share that we rented for the occasion.

Being an exercise enthusiast, I knew that I'd want to do at least something while I was away, but also understanding that it might get quite raucous, and there may well be a hangover involved, I only packed the bits and pieces I'd need for a yoga session. Calm, sedate, but taxing enough to make me feel I'd done enough.

The morning after the first night's celebrations, I was up as planned, and ready to go. I was a little surprised to find some of the other women in the group also up and apparently waiting for me. A few drinks and a loose tongue the night before and I'd mentioned my plan to be here in the morning. Apparently, a few of the girls had decided to join me. One of them had even dragged her husband out of bed for the workout.

We got down to business, with me taking the role of unofficial leader of the group, the others were looking to me to take them through the sequence of movements. The early morning sun was shining on the glass walls and roof of the little conservatory room, and it quickly got too hot. I felt more than safe removing my cropped training jumper, since I knew that underneath, I had on my all-in-one bodysuit that I brought especially to do the session. It was completely backless and perhaps a bit risqué for a normal class, but I was comfortable here with friends. What I hadn't appreciated is that while I was stretching and contorting, the somewhat lower-cut front of the suit had slipped, and both my nipples had popped out over the top.

I quickly hoicked myself back into place and checked around quickly to see if I had got away with it. I was pretty sure I was quick enough, and no one had noticed. Though, perhaps I did see a raised eyebrow look between the wife and her husband. A little embarrassed and more than a little conscious that it might happen again, I continued the session carefully. We didn't rush it, but we definitely finished sooner than I anticipated, and we all went off to enjoy the day's celebrations.

The next day, unsure if there would be a group waiting for me again, I went back to the conservatory early(ish) in the morning. This time the dynamic in the group had flipped, and there a group of men and only one other girl. Even at the time, I thought that it was pretty strange. A man or two in a yoga group is a fairly regular thing, but a group made-up overwhelmingly of men is pretty much unheard of. I also had the fleeting thought, but dismissed it quickly, that the husband from the day before might have mentioned my boobs popping out to the other men and they'd turned up to see if there'd be another show?

In hindsight, maybe I dismissed the through a little too quickly. As we got into the session, every time I moved into something like a Crescent Lunge or an Upward Facing Dog, anything that had me stretching upwards and backwards, pushing out my chest, my cropped top was riding higher up my bodysuit. I could very much feel I was being watched.

As the session went on, and once again the room heated up with the sun, the group started to remove their top layers, there was a definite 'air of expectation'. An especially real sense of 'thirst' as they all watched me and could feel the temperature rising.

I think all this just seemed to make me feel even hotter. And while I wouldn't normally be one to rise to this kind of a challenge, a small part of me was thinking, 'what do I care?' I was almost stridently daring myself to give them a little of what they came for... I was, however, keen not to completely make the same mistake as the day before, so before I removed my top, I did a quick mental check that everything felt like it was all still in place, and I was safe to go.

Taking off my top, only slightly exaggerating the movement, extending both arms way above my head, I look down just to doublecheck, and damn it, the right one has escaped again!

I'm ready to be crippled with embarrassment, a contrast to the hubris I felt only a moment before, and I immediately look up to see who has seen. Most of them have the decency to quickly and obviously look away, a few of them are smiling as they do, but they do get busy looking elsewhere. There is one though, he has a look of defiance, almost daring me to call him out for brazenly watching me jostle my boobs back into place.

Careful not to reveal anything else, I carry on with the informal lesson, though I'm really pushing the limits of my bodysuit. Nothing is said, but if I thought I was being watched before, it is nothing compared to the close attention they're all me paying now.

While they're watching me move from pose to pose, I notice something new. I feel it in my stomach, lower than that even, I feel my lady-bits start to twitch. I'm being drawn into each of their individual fantasies. Maybe I'm imagining it, but I feel them eye-fucking me and in me finding it hot and erotic, I'm feeding it. I'm complicit.

Then it builds into something else. While they're eyeing me, I see looks that pass between them. There is an obvious group acknowledgement between them that they're in this together. They each know why each of them is here and they're willing to share this experience, and I'm the object of what's going on. It actually arouses me even more to know that this yoga session will live on as a memory for them, this is never going to be forgotten. It's very likely they will even discuss this between themselves when it's finished. They might even tell other men that aren't here to see me in the flesh, and those men will only be able to imagine what they missed.

Later, it occurs to me that most of them, maybe all of them, once in a while, will think about me and our yoga session when they touch themselves, or even think about me when they're getting-it-on with someone else.