Naked Yoga: Voyeur Erotica (paperback)

I'd always enjoyed yoga. There was something about the simplicity of it that appealed to me. No weights, no fancy equipment, just me stretching my own body to tone and relax my muscles. For sixty minutes every day, I had my own island of tranquility on my little yoga mat.

But it was more than that. It was the sharing of the experience with like-minded people in the quiet, serene comfort of a yoga studio. Listening to the breathing of my fellow yogis as they stretched and relaxed their bodies inches away from me. For the longest time, I never found anything sexual about the practice. We were just focused on connecting with our own bodies and freeing our minds of extraneous thoughts.

But my recent encounters at the dinner party and in the dark room had given me a new appreciation for the female form. Most of the participants in my advanced class were women, longstanding members with exquisitely toned bodies. And they all wore tight spandex leggings and tops that hugged every curve and valley of their figures.

For some reason, in today's class I was far more interested in focusing on what other people were doing than channeling my own chakra. As I transitioned from one pose to another, I couldn't help looking out the corner of my eye at the women surrounding me while they spread their legs and arched their bodies in ever more suggestive poses.

When the instructor asked us to move into the plank position, I stole furtive glances at the women facing me, as their breasts clenched tightly together between their outstretched arms. When we did lunges, I peeked between their legs to see if I could detect the outline of their labia in their tights. When we did the wide-angle forward bend, I ground my pussy into my mat trying to stimulate my tingling love button. And when we moved into the plow position, I fantasized about crouching over their upturned asses and rubbing our pussies together like Emma and I had done in the dark room.

The instructor's gentle exhortations were a blur in the background as my mind raced with lascivious thoughts. I'm sure she would have disapproved of my breaking the cardinal rule of yoga, which was to free your mind and let the distractions of the day melt away. But in my case, something else was melting. The more turned on I got, the more aware I became of the growing wet spot between my legs. I couldn't stop imagining all the positions I wanted to get into with my yoga partners. When we moved into the bridge position and thrust our hips upwards, all I could think about was fucking someone—anyone—as I ground my mound against an imaginary partner.

The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I began to undress the women with my eyes, imagining what they'd look like doing their poses in the buff. Occasionally, I'd catch some of them stealing glances in my direction.

Were they having the same fantasies as me?

When the instructor guided us into the wide-leg balance position, where we spread our legs and grasped our elevated toes, I thought I was going to faint. So many beautiful women were opening themselves up to me, daring me not to stare at the joint between their legs. I had to will my body to stay in place as I mimicked their pose. My glutes wanted to crawl like a sand crab across the floor until our bodies touched, pressing our pussies and breasts together.

By this time, the wet spot between my legs had grown completely out of control. I could no longer pretend that it was just sweat running down my legs or my ass from the tension of holding the poses. I excused myself and gathered my mat, holding it in front of me as I walked toward the women's change room. When I got into the locker room, I went into one of the stalls and quickly closed the door behind me. I lowered my tights and began jilling my clit furiously, trying to stifle my moans in case anyone else entered the room. It didn't take more than a minute for me to come hard, as I hunched over and stood panting, my back leaning against the stall door.

After I collected myself, I grabbed a towel and headed into a shower stall. I turned on the warm spray from the overhead faucet and felt the water trickle over my tender breasts. As my nipples hardened, I reflected back on what had happened in the yoga studio. I unconsciously bent over into a downward dog pose and felt the stream spray on my exposed ass and pussy. The feeling of being naked, imagining myself performing my yoga pose as other women watched me was electrifying. Within seconds, I had another powerful orgasm as I held my ankles, shaking in convulsions.

Ten minutes later, after I'd changed into street clothes and other women began filtering into the change room, I noticed one of them glance at me with a knowing smile.

Maybe I wasn't the only one who harbored this fantasy of naked yoga, I thought.

I resolved to investigate the idea further when I got home...