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As a yoga teacher, I was used to having a studio full of mostly female students, with one or two men. I taught a hot, athletic power yoga, and by the end of the class, everyone was dripping with sweat, including me.

I guided the class from the front of the studio, but walked around and gave the students adjustments, holding a leg or foot, pressing down on their sacrum when in child’s pose, or using a strap to pull their thighs back in downward dog. When they were in the final pose, savasana, resting on their backs with legs and arms loosely on the ground, I would walk around and gently press their shoulders down, or give a quick massage to the back of their necks, or pull on their feet.

I always asked in advance if they didn’t want me to touch them, but no one ever said no. I think the women liked the idea of a muscular, lean, flexible and good-looking 30-something man touching them like that. (Me, that is!). They liked it that there were the boundaries of the teacher/student relationship — if any one of them and became attracted to each other, we could enjoy feeling that feeling, but not act on it. They liked it that they could get hot and sweaty in their tight, colorful yoga pants and tank-tops, and not be self-conscious before their teacher.

I wore a tank-top too, and loose, long shorts, and usually no underwear, since it got so hot in there, and the length of the shorts kept my privates hidden, though I must admit sometimes I felt myself getting aroused with the friction against me, and the sight of so many women in such skimpy clothes. I had to move my mind away from these things and deliberately try not to get hard in front of them. After class, after everyone had left, I went to the studio’s co-ed sauna or steam room and sat there dripping sweat with a small towel draped over me. In the steam room, where you could barely see a foot in front of you, I often wondered if someone would quietly enter and sit beside me, and we would be invisible to each other, until one of us reached a hand to the other.

There was one student who began to come to class regularly, towards whom I felt a gradual attraction, and in her own energy, I could feel the attraction might be mutual. I kept the studio dimly lit, so there was a certain intimacy created, and when I walked around giving instructions and adjustments, I often gravitated towards her. She was hard to resist. She was tall, leggy, with short cropped blonde hair, strong hands, blue eyes, and buttocks that curved like … well, you can imagine. You can tell I noticed everything about her — especially how she closed her eyes and gently smiled when I pressed her shoulders down in the resting pose. Anna — that was her name.

I particularly liked giving some assistance to her when the class went into triangle pose. I would stand close to her from behind, strongly press my thigh against hers to prop her straight, and hold her upper wrist — the one that reached for the sky in the pose — in order to help her extend and lengthen. Then, later, in downward dog, I would stand in front of her and with both hands push against her sacrum to stretch her back and thighs, and often I could hear a small sigh escape her lips. I could almost feel her prepare herself energetically for my assistance, readying herself for my hands.

One day she stayed after class and asked for more help in headstand. We were alone in the dimly lit studio. She placed her hands on the ground, and the top of her head, and I stood firmly before her and asked her to slowly raise one leg and then the other into the air, where I held them. She straightened her back and tucked her tail, and I placed a fist between her knees and asked her to squeeze. Then she lowered one leg and then the other, and came to her knees, flushed, and smiled at me. “Thank you,” she said. “I really want to master that.” I was kneeling just a couple of feet away from her and for a second, I thought she was going Escort Bayan Bahçeşehir to kiss me. “You’re a good teacher,” she said. “Very skilled and kind.” Then she turned away, as if she had said too much, and gathered her things and left. I watched her walk away and it seemed like she was deliberately swinging her hips and swaying for me, and then she shook droplets of sweat from her short, shaggy hair and walked out. I went immediately to the sauna, which was empty, and played with myself until I came into my towel. Then I hit the cold showers. I was in love.

It was a time when I wanted love. My marriage had fallen apart; I was single and trying to make a living teaching, working part-time at the organic food store, and writing late at night. Anna embodied the kind of shy but radiant confidence and beauty, and brevity of words, that I so liked.

The flirtation with her — if that’s the right word — continued, both of us (I think she was on board with this) enjoying the mutual attraction that was limited by the ethics of a teacher/student relationship. There were a few times I wondered if she was starting to push the boundaries though. In one class, as I pressed down on her upper spine and her sacrum in child’s pose, I could feel her move her buttocks up against my hand. Another time, after rubbing the back of her neck briefly in resting pose, as I stood up and began to move to the next student, she opened her eyes and smiled at me, and rested her hand on my bare foot for a second.

She stayed more and more after class, asking questions, asking for help in doing certain poses. I had my hands on her body often, lifting, pressing, pulling — sometimes standing behind her with a thigh against her butt, my hands on her shoulders, rolling them back. I had the beginnings of an erection, and I felt it graze against her, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she nestled back against me for a microsecond and arched her back. We both pretended that nothing had happened. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower, maybe a steam bath first or sauna, I love the heat.” It was winter. I wondered if she was extending an invitation, or just wanting the extra heat on a cold day. She went off, and I hurried out to my car and drove through blinding snow to my other job at the store.

The next class I tried not to think of her. I had been feeling increasingly aroused at touching her and thrilled by her smiles and new “good-bye” squeeze on my upper arm. Once she had tousled the hair on the back of my head on her way out. That class, I almost ignored her. At the end of class, as everyone was filing out, she approached me. “You seem a little off today,” she said. “Are you OK?” I mumbled something. “If there’s anything I can do …” she said, touching my arm and smiling gently, her pretty brows furrowed, as if concerned, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth. “It’s nothing,” I said. “I just need to warm up, I was freezing this morning. I’m going to the sauna, I think,” blurting out that thought at the very end.

She nodded. “I’m going to practice headstand a little then,” she said. “Get the blood up into my head for a while.”

I headed to the men’s locker room, stripped, and grabbed one of those short white towels that are so common in studios like this. It was quiet; this was an evening class, so the front desk person had gone home, the students were putting on their shoes and heading out, and it was up to me to lock up once the place was empty.

I sat in the sauna, on the top level of cedar wood, sweating and dripping, my towel wrapped around my hips and upper legs. I turned the lights down low, so it was very dim, and poured some water on the hot coals. Steam rose, and so did the temperature. I loved the feeling of sweat running in rivers down my chest and between my legs and over my cock and balls. I kept them clean and shaved because I liked that naked, İstanbul Escort open feeling. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes and thought of Anna, wondered if she had finished her headstands, wondered if she changed out of her yoga tights into street clothes, wondered what her skin felt like naked.

In this dreamy state, I heard the sauna door open and quietly click closed. I opened my eyes to slits. It was Anna. She climbed onto the second level of the sauna about three feet away and below me, and sat down. She was wrapped in one of those tiny white towels too. It hardly covered her, the top edge a line just above her aureoles, with a deep valley of cleavage between, and the bottom edge of the towel loosely clinging to her, an inch below her hips. My eyes were drawn to the sheen of sweat on her legs and collarbones, her long legs and strong calves.

She leaned her head back against the top level of seating, and I could see her eyes were closed, and she had a Mona Lisa smile on her face. She drew her hands over her neck and chest, stroking the sweat across her collarbones. “Hey,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t mind me coming in here.”

“Of course not,” I said, trying to hide the trembling in my voice. She ran her fingers through her damp hair; she lifted one foot onto the bench and massaged the sole of it, bending her toes back and forth, and her towel moved up her leg and there was the hint of the soft white skin of her inner thigh. My breathing became heavy; I felt my heart beat faster. “My feet are a bit sore from that class, you,” she said.

“Let me rub them, then,” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

“Would you? That would be great,” she said. She moved up to my bench and we sat facing each other across its length. She leaned back against the wall and I slid closer, taking her right foot in my hands and resting her heel on my bare knee. There was her long leg, slippery wet, the edge of her towel just barely hiding a view of her pussy.

I massaged her foot, pressing my thumbs into the arch, and she sighed. She tweaked her toes against the sweating skin of my belly, playing. “Wow,” she said. “You’re as wet as I am. So much sweat in here. It feels good. Now the other foot, please!”

“You have such strong, beautiful feet,” I said.

“Mmmm,” she murmured, as I massaged and then caressed her left foot. I held her ankle and gently ran my fingers along her toes, her instep, the skin on the top of her foot, concentrating, but feeling myself growing hard at the same time. I focused on that foot, its warmth, its damp heat, its soft skin. My cock was nudging at my towel, threatening to move it aside.

I glanced up and inhaled sharply. Anna had let the top edge of her towel slip below her breasts. With her eyes closed, she was stroking her nipples, and I saw a drop of sweat make its slow way down to her navel. She arched her back against the wall, and slid her foot higher up my leg. She flattened it and slipped her toes under the edge of my towel, lifting and pulling. These towels were so loose, barely tied at the waist, so it slipped to the side and my cock rose out, pulsing, my towel not covering me at all now. She slid her foot slowly up my belly, up my chest, and her toes tickled my chin.

Her own towel dropped away now too from the movement of her leg and there she was, beautifully naked, body glistening, legs slightly parted – her slim waist, perfect hips, delicious breasts, shaved pussy and pink labia like flower petals … and a head of damp blonde hair that inexplicably made me wild with desire.

“You know,” she whispered, “I’m kind of in love with you.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at me. Eyes the deepest blue.

“God,” I said. “Me too, with you, I mean.” I felt this intense urgency arise in me, coupled with a powerful feeling of finally being able to relax with her.

I quickly slid closer to Escort İstanbul her on the bench, so that her extended leg slipped between me and the wall, and she bent her knee and hooked her heel at my lower back, and she reached for my shoulders, and I put my hands loosely on her waist, and we drew our faces closer, eyes locked. We kissed, first slowly and tentatively, and then she probed my lips with her tongue, and then we were urgently kissing, tongues intertwined, and she nibbled my upper lip, and I took her head in my hands and ran my fingers through her damp hair, and her hands went to my chest, and pinched my nipples.

Our bodies were pressing closer and closer and then my hard cock was flat against her wet belly and my balls rested against her inner thigh. She pulled back, looked down. “My God,” she said. “It’s gorgeous. I want the whole huge hot thing in me now! God. I want you opening me, filling me. I want to suck you. I want it all, all…”

She dropped her hands to me, cradling my balls with one hand and gently stroking my cock with the other as we continued to kiss. I cupped her breasts in my hands and caressed her nipples with my fingertips, and pinched one, and she arched her back again and lightly just stroked the head the head of my cock, up and down a few times, circling the top. She brought up her other leg and wrapped it around me and then she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed, raising herself up, and slowly, excruciatingly, intensely, she lowered herself down. I reached around her so far that I could touch her pussy from behind and I found her labia and spread her apart, and she gasped as her hot wetness met my hard cock, and then she slid down completely onto me, and we both moaned and I knew we could both come in seconds at that moment.

She squeezed me and rocked back and forth twice, lifted herself up and down three times, holding my neck tight, her abs so tight and contracted. She threw her head back, cried out, her whole body quivering, and gradually stopped moving, trembling. “I’ve never come so fast,” she whispered.

Then she began moving again, first slowly, and then more quickly. Our mouths were locked; my hands supported her buttocks; her arms were around my neck. I pulsed up into her, all eight inches of me, and I could feel how tightly I filled her, how her labia were stretched to the maximum to allow me to slide in and out, and how wet she was, how hot she was inside, the heat of her driving me wild. I held back as long as I could, tightening my ass. “Come,” she whispered. “I want you to come on me.”

I was on the edge of exploding, and then I pulled out, she reached down, and with a stroke of her hand, I was coming onto her belly and shooting up between her breasts, and it felt like it would never end. She looked down at the cum on her body and smiled, and with her other hands she spread it over her skin like lotion. She squeezed the last out of me, and held me, and we both breathed heavily against each other, spent.

For the moment. Because we stayed in that sauna longer than is recommended, touching each other, exploring, kissing. Then we moved to the steam room where we could barely see other in the mist, and she bent over and I took her from behind, pulling against her beautiful hips. Finally, to the shower, to cool us off, to wash away the sweat. First in cold water, we gasped and held tight to each other. I was hard for her again, and with the cold water streaming on us, I lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around me and we pumped against each other until we both came again, together.

As we dressed in our street clothes, we looked at each other shyly. She looked so different in her jeans and boots and black down jacket.

“When can I see you again?” I asked. I stood up right in front of her and reached for her shoulders.

“Next week in class, of course,” she said. When she saw my disappointed look, she grinned. “I’m teasing. Any time you want. Like, now? And, like, in the morning when you wake up next to me?”

And that was the beginning. Just the beginning. And now, so many years later, I can’t forget Anna. Especially because we still wake up next to each other, and the first thing she does is kiss me and hold my balls in her hand.

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