The Futa Yoga Gangbang
Heather Simmons
"Okay, ladies," I said as my women came in for their yoga class. "So good to see you all. Janet! Corey! Abigail, how's the back!"
"So much better," Abigail said, a bright smile on her lips.
"Rosa," I continued. "Zelda. Ooh, that's cute."
"Thanks," Zelda said, her rainbow scrunchy holding back her hair had these fun tassels that fell down with her blonde tresses. "Dollar store."
"Good bargain," I said as the class was rolling out their yoga mats.
They were all in yoga pants and tank tops, the straps of their sports bras peeking out in most cases. I was in my own yoga pants and tank top. I stretched, arching my back and jiggling things. That felt good. Then I wiggled back and forth a few times, humming happily to myself.
This would be a great class.
When they were all ready I faced them and pressed my hands together. I bowed to them and said, "Namaste, ladies."
"Namaste, Heather," they all said, bowing back.
I clapped my hands together, smiling at them. "Okay, okay, we're going to do our stretches. Let's all get loose. Shake it out!"
I shook my hands and my body, relaxing every bit of me. I was so ready to have a great class. I would teach them all I knew. It would be a great day. I stretched my back and rolled my shoulders. I was so ready for this to be a kickass session.
* * *
T. Ropex
"Teleporting you to the next vacation session,"
the AI said. The program was letting me have all the phone of watching the many live recordings on human fornication in person. It was so much more exciting even if the reality needed to be tweaked.
Maybe I was just watching the extraordinary examples of humans. That made sense. The average just weren't worthy enough to have their sexual exploits broadcast. Good thing the AI could make them into perfect specimens and allow them to cross these strange hangups they had.
No incest?
They were just humans.
Fidelity?
Such a strange race. Their betters who made the live recordings understood how things worked.
I appeared in the corner of a yoga studio. I smiled in delight at the sight. There were five women of various ethnicities all bending over before me. Their yoga pants molded to their butts, but... Not as much as they should. I could see panty lines and no cameltoes. Their tops were tight but not to show off any skin. None were transparent or even mesh.
They even had on bras.
They were doing such ordinary stretches. None of them were touching each other. "Helping" each other while copping feels. This place should be reeking of feminine juices as a yani yoga session happened. That was what they were called when it was all women.
Yani.
It was so strange way to say lesbian or dyke.
No lesbians here. Maybe it would be a dickgirl scenario. A futanari hiding her big dick in her yoga pants. I glanced at the teacher. She did not have any bulge hiding in her yoga pants. She was fit and perky with blonde hair and rather modest breasts.
Definitely not the epitome of womanhood with huge knockers.
"Okay, let's do some downward dog," she said and they bent over again.
None of them were checking each other out. They weren't biting their lower lips or licking them. They weren't lusting for each other. It was just so prosaic. Where was the fun in this? They should be getting into some of the action by now.
There wasn't even any suggestive dialogue.
"Okay, ladies, warrior pose," said the teacher.
I just had to be patient. They would get aroused by each other doing these poses. They were all wearing tight clothes. That had to be useful to awaken their inner yani slut. To make them want to feast on pussy, but...
None were growing flushed, either, and their tank tops weren't low-cut. They weren't really showing off much flesh.
"And chair," the instructor said, switching poses.
They contorted themselves in an impressive way, but none of them were staring at the instructor with lust. She wasn't turning them on or getting turned on. None of their crotches were getting soaked with their juices.
I sighed.
"And goose," the instructor said, her voice wasn't throaty. It was soothing. The opposite of what it should be. Where was the sultry purr? Where were the compliments to her student's body? "That's a good pose, Corey."
"Thanks," the ebony-skin girl with the almost no tits said. No tits!
"I am adjusting the scenario to be more in line with your desires!"
AI said.
I smiled as suddenly, the women were in legwarmers and thongs that vanished between their butt-cracks. The thin cloths, all bright hues of pinks and greens and purples, cupped their pussies, barely hiding their cunts. They wore pasties on their breasts. They were all big now, some fake, some natural. Even the Black girl was stacked. Their cheeks were flushed. Sweat gleamed on their brows.
As they moved, their thongs clinging to their vulvas, they glanced at each other. Tongues flicked over lips that were plumper. Smoky eyes drank in the sight as they worked through their possess. When they bent over, the girls up front shook their asses at the girls behind them.
"Mmm, very good ladies," purred the teacher. "Yes, yes, you're all looking so
fit.
Mmm, so... toned and perfect. I love that lustrous skin, Abigail."
