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“Trust me, it will be,” Eva whispered as she left the check-in desk to place her mat on an open spot on the floor.

I smiled at Ashley and then at Meg, “well it’s a plan then,” I said warmly.

As I lay my mat down next to my wife, I looked at Eva who winked and sent me a quick mind message:

I love second helpings!

I sent her a quick reply:

Especially when there’s four of us!

The setting sun poured through the gigantic floor-to-ceiling window on the west wall of Spirit Yoga studio, bathing the bodies in front of us in different shades of chimney red, dark orange and auburn yellow.

Incense filled the room, mixing with the musky scent of the hard-working, sweat-drenched bodies.

A pulsating hip hop beat, accented by Indian tabla rhythms and sitar melodies, provided the perfect soundtrack: a sensual EDM heartbeat with global influences. The music was loud enough to soak Meg’s voice depending on where she was walking as instructions dropped from her mouth like mini challenges of endurance and flexibility throughout class.

Sometimes yoga was peaceful — like the call of a loon across the lake on an early spring morning. But sometimes it was challenging — the bodies around you contorting into shapes which, to a rational mind, must be impossible.

Then again, there’s very few rational minds in a yoga studio that is heated to 105 degrees.

My wife Eva was drenched in sweat — early in class she had stripped down to her sports bra and booty shorts. Her brown skin, a carmel mixture thanks to her Dutch and Caribbean heritage, was accented by her light pink bra and shorts. A natural beauty, Eva rarely needed to wear much makeup — just a little eye shadow and some light lipstick — both of which were smeared from the abuse of what had been almost ninety minutes of hot yoga.

Looking around the room of young, fit bodies, I was thankful that as a thirty-something I still took care of my appearance. There was no way I could make it through this class wearing much of anything — in fact, I was in a pair of soaked running shorts. Sweat covered my body the moment I entered the studio, but by now it looked like I was taking a shower.

Occasionally I would glance towards Ashley — one of the first girls at Spirit Yoga that Eva had seduced. Despite her young age — she had just turned eighteen a few weeks before we met her — Ash had turned out to be incredibly fun to be around. If we bumped into her at class, we often found ourselves bringing her home for some real “extra curricular” activities, if you know what I mean. I smiled thinking about the first time I had seen my wife’s head in between the teen’s legs, her tongue buried deep in the young girl’s womanhood.

Meg signaled to us that class was almost over — we had just completed a very intense inversion and now it was time to cool down. To be honest, savasana was always my favorite time of class. It was a time to just let yourself go, relax and melt into the floor.

Having the students lay in silence, Meg guided them in a relaxing meditation. I quickly found myself drifting off into my own thoughts. Amazing thoughts of the incredible night my wife and I had with our lovely, and very fit, blonde yoga instructor.

The fact that she was engaged to be married — and the wedding was now just five days away, made the sex last night even more taboo — and therefore even more fun.

My wife Eva had wanted to fuck Meg for almost a year, and I think that anticipation, mixed with her absolute commitment to no-strings-attached pleasure, was why the sex we had with Meg had been so rewarding.

We had gotten her stoned: very, very stoned. And then we forced her do to things that, well, let’s put it this way: she now has reason to be a “blushing bride”, and certainly should not be wearing white at the alter on Saturday!

Last night, my wife Eva had tried gagging Meg with my cock — shoving my member deep, deep, deep down the young bride-to-be’s throat. As I drifted into a deeper state of relaxation, I smiled thinking about how much Eva had surprised both Meg and I by the kinky, unexpected move.

Meg’s soothing and confident voice continued to guide the class through the meditation.

I must have been relaxed, because I don’t think I ever heard her say the final “namaste” which was the cue for students to know class was now over and they could peacefully roll their yoga mats up and be on their way.

I must have been exhausted from the intense workout because Eva would later joke that I had fallen deep asleep during savasana. Of course, dear reader, I can’t really tell you what may or may not have happened while I was asleep — because I was asleep — but I can tell you just how I was woken from my post-yoga slumber.

I felt a hand run its way from my knee, slowly up my thigh and over to rest on top of my groin area. Feeling the hand began to slowly cup my manhood, I began to get hard. I could feel the fingers slowly reach for balls — with just the fabric separating our skin. I decided to continue to play dead for a little while longer to see what would happen.

As I lay on my yoga mat, eyes closed, I felt the hand leave my groin area, and I momentarily wondered what had happened. I hoped to God it had been my wife Eva, or else some stranger — it could have been anybody — had just copped a major feel!

At least it felt kinda good! I thought to myself. Had to have been my wife.

Just as I was about to open my eyes, the hand reached up the leg of my shorts and immediately began to finger its way around my balls, the base of my shaft and in the area between my shaft and my asshole. I guessed it was my wife Eva, because she knew the exact place I liked to be touched — a spot so sensitive it instantly made me rock hard — and she knew just how much pressure to apply and how to work her hand. She continued using her fingers to dance between my shaft and my balls, making me so hard that it was becoming painful to be so confined by the fabric of my workout shorts.

I knew just by the personalized touch and care that the mysterious hand was my wife’s: but just to play it safe, I ever-so-slowly opened one eye, just enough to peek, but not enough to register that I was watching. As my eyelids slowly became a small slit, I felt the hand continue to work its magic.

My eyes darted open when I realized the hand belonged to Celeste! And my wife Eva was behind her — whispering instructions in her ear like a demon.

“What the fuck?” I stammered without thinking.

I heard immediate laughter from all around me.

I lifted my head off the mat and tried to look around the dimly lit studio. The sun had set and there was now only candles providing light throughout the room. They flickered as I strained my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“Celeste?” I said shocked. “Ummmm?”

Her hand didn’t leave from under my shorts, in fact, she just grabbed the base of my cock and laughed harder and harder as I strained to understand what was happening.

I heard the laughter die down as Eva slid up beside me. She leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“I love you, baby.” She said warmly as she again kissed my head laughing.

“Ummm, what’s happening?” I stammered as my eyes looked into my wife’s and directed her towards the young woman with her hand up my pants.

“That’s just Celeste.” Eva said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I know,” I said, as I smiled very awkwardly towards Celeste.

Turning my attention back to Eva, I again inquired, “not that I necessarily mind, but why is she grabbing my cock?”