by George Glass
Summary: Jenny, nervous about teaching her first yoga class, “borrows” some of her parents’ special incense to help her students relax. But relaxation isn’t what the incense was made for…
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Jenny couldn’t help but take note of the irony: She was about to teach her first-ever yoga class as part of Tri-State Area Fitness Day, and the anticipation of leading others through a series of activities meant to relax the body and calm the mind was making her a nervous wreck. It didn’t help that Candace wouldn’t be there for moral support; the redhead would be teaching a step aerobics class at the same time on the other side of town. But Stacy had promised to come, and to bring as many other people as she could.
The promise had been comforting at the time, but now all Jenny could think about was how many people would be watching her. Noticing her every mistake. And maybe leaving even more tense and agitated than they had been when they arrived, in which case her class would be a total failure.
She needed an ace in the hole—something that would guarantee a positive experience for every participant, regardless of what she did. But what would that be?
Then she remembered the special incense that her parents used when they had their private meditation sessions—sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with other couples—in the yurt in their back yard. They never included Jenny in these sessions, saying that she was too young to be able to handle the effects of the incense. But they always seemed deeply relaxed afterward.
What harm could it do? Her class would be in the school gym, which was a lot bigger than the yurt, so the smoke from the incense would be much less concentrated than it was when her parents used it.
Throwing her rolled-up natural-fiber yoga mat over her shoulder, she went out back and retrieved a burnt-ended stick of the incense, along with a holder and a pack of matches, from what seemed to be an excessively well hidden box inside the yurt. She threw everything into her bag, hopped on her bike, and headed for the gym.
This was a good decision, she thought as she rode. If nothing else, having the incense with her was making her feel much more relaxed, which would help her students relax, too.
She got to the gym about twenty minutes early, and right away, her calm began to erode.
“Your class has been moved to room 318,” said a bespectacled woman whom Jenny faintly recognized as the Mayor’s assistant.
“But that’s up on the third floor,” Jenny replied. “How come I can’t use the gym?”
“A couple of local boys are doing some kind of zero-gravity gymnastics class in here,” the woman answered, her tone as bland as if she were telling Jenny what time it was.
“That’s what it says on the schedule.”
Sighing, Jenny went up the echoing stairwell to the third floor. There was no one else there, suggesting that hers would be the only class on this floor. And when she got to the classroom, it was arrayed with a full complement of desks and chairs, which Jenny would have to move to the back wall so that there would be enough clear floor space.
To make things worse, the Mayor’s assistant (Melanie, she said her name was) showed up again—not to help Jenny move furniture, but to sit in a chair by the door with a stack of disclaimers printed on legal-size paper in a font so tiny that it looked like it would have to be read with a microscope.
Jenny’s mood brightened when Stacy showed up. True to her promise, she had brought along her mother, her little sister Ginger, and her boyfriend Coltrane. Before they could even set foot in the room, Melanie was in their faces with four copies of the disclaimer.
“All Tri-State Area Fitness Day instructors are volunteers who may or may not have licensing certification or formal training,” she recited rapidly. “By signing this waiver you agree that the City of Danville and the Greater Tri-State Area are not responsible or liable for any injuries, property damage, or humiliation that may result directly or indirectly from your participation in activities related to Tri-State Area Fitness Day.”
As Stacy and the others signed the form, more people arrived: Candace’s friend Vanessa, and a guy who Jenny guessed was Vanessa’s boyfriend; a short girl with glasses and a taller one with bangs whom Jenny recognized as members of the local Fireside Girls troop; and a smallish boy of nine or ten with brown hair, a baseball cap, and a golden retriever on a leash. Thinking this a bit odd, Jenny approached him.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “I’m Jenny.”
“I’m Balthazar Horowitz. And this is Midas,” he said, scritching the dog’s head.
“Oh, because he’s a golden retriever!” Jenny replied. “That’s clever. Um, are you here for the yoga class?”
“Yeah, my mom sent us.”
“To a yoga class? With your dog?”
“I think she just wanted us out of the house, and she was low on ideas.”
“Oh,” Jenny said, not sure what to make of that. “Well, welcome to the class.”
Dr. Hirano approached, with her daughters and Coltrane close behind.
“Hello, Jenny,” Dr. Hirano said. “We’re all looking forward to your class today.”
“Yeah,” Coltrane added. “I’ve been doing yoga with my folks for a few years now, so I’m excited to see what your class will be like.”
“Uh, great,” Jenny said, swallowing.
If she had had any second thoughts about using the incense, they were gone now. She immediately went to the front of the room, took a stick of the stuff out of her bag, stood it up in its holder, and lit it. Then she turned to address the class.
“Um, hi, everybody. Thanks for coming today. I hope you have a relaxing and mind-opening experience here.”
“What’s that smoke?” Balthazar asked, pointing at the incense holder behind Jenny.
Jenny felt stupid for not having explained. People were always touchy about things that were on fire.
“That’s just incense,” the girl replied. “It’s to help you achieve a calm and relaxed state of mind.”
I hope, she thought.
“Now,” Jenny continued, “let’s start off by going through the Sun Salutation.”
She led them through a series of poses: standing back bends, a long forward lunge called the Warrior pose, a sort of prone backbend called the Cobra, and Jenny’s favorite, a triangular pose in which one put one’s hands and feet on the floor and bottom up in the air, called the Downward-facing Dog.
Jenny’s mental lesson plan included going through the Sun Salutation three times. As she began leading the participants through the first round, Jenny heard Vanessa speak quietly to her boyfriend.
“Why is it getting so hot in here?”
“I know, right?” Monty replied in a loud whisper. “It’s like one of those Turkish baths that my dad’s always having secret meetings in.”
Having just straightened up from the standing backbend, Monty unselfconsciously pulled off his t-shirt, leaving himself bare-chested. Then Vanessa, just as unselfconsciously, stripped off her aerobics top. Now, only her simple black bra covered any part of her torso.
Jenny realized that it did indeed feel quite a bit warmer in the room than it had when she had first arrived. And neither the number of people in the space nor the burning of the incense seemed to explain adequately the heat that Jenny was beginning to feel all over her body.
“Oh, what a good idea,” Dr. Hirano said.
Straightening up on her knees for a moment during the transition between the Warrior pose and Downward-facing Dog, the mother of two pulled off her top, so that her sports bra was all she had on above the waist. Jenny, who hadn’t ever seen Dr. Hirano in anything more revealing than a suit jacket or a white doctor’s coat, had never before noticed the slenderness of the woman’s waist, or the firmness of her breasts. It also occurred to Jenny that these were strange observations to be making about her friend’s mother.
Coltrane took a cue from the older woman and stripped off his t-shirt. Stacy smiled at the sight of her boyfriend’s bare chest and pulled off her blue exercise top, revealing a sea-green sports bra. The prepubescent Ginger, having nothing on underneath her t-shirt, tied a knot in the shirt to expose her midriff; Adyson and Gretchen did the same. Jenny found herself having to tear her eyes away from the sight of all the lovely skin that had suddenly been bared to her view.
Jenny noticed Melanie wrinkling her nose and began to worry. What would Mayor Doofenshmirtz think if his assistant told him that people had been stripping off their clothes in Jenny’s class?
But Jenny’s worries were dispelled when Melanie pulled off her own top. Underneath she was wearing a blue bra, with cups made of a translucent material through which Jenny could see the woman’s pink, semi-erect nipples.
Others followed suit, and by the time the second iteration of the Sun Salutation concluded, the entire class was shirtless, or nearly so, save for Jenny herself.
Jenny, having demonstrated each pose during the first two run-throughs of the Sun Salutation, spontaneously decided to lead the class through the third one verbally as she walked around the room, looking at each participant’s form and helping them to correct it where necessary.
But as the class went into a full forward bend—standing, with their heads down by their knees—what she found herself looking at was ten upturned asses. And she didn’t see a single one she didn’t like. They were variously big and soft, small and cute, tight and toned; Jenny suddenly wanted to put her hands all over every one of them, feeling and squeezing. Particularly tempting was Vanessa’s curvaceous backside—shown off in magnificent detail by her tight black yoga pants—and, next to hers, Monty’s nicely muscled ass.
Through one of the leg-holes of the young man’s sweat shorts and boxers, Jenny caught a glimpse of Monty’s balls. She had a thing about balls; the way they hung, like ripe fruit, made her think about the male seed that they constantly produced, ever ready to be spilled into a waiting womb. Jenny sometimes thought that if she had a boyfriend, she could probably spend a whole afternoon just fondling, kissing, and tonguing his balls.
The sight of all these lovely asses, seemingly on display just for her, was too much. Feeling as though her body were overheating, she practically tore off the natural-fiber exercise top she wore. Then, in her plain white sports bra, she tried to continue with class.
“Good job, everybody,” she said, panting a little. “Now, bring your left foot forward and go into the Warrior pose.”
They all took a long step forward into a deep lunge. Jenny saw that Coltrane’s form was good, and that his teenage body looked fit...nicely fit. Surely, she thought, an experienced yoga practitioner like him needed a bit more of a challenge.
“Try going deeper,” she said quietly to him, feeling a tiny groin-tingle as she spoke the word deeper.
Before Jenny could think twice about it, she found herself using her hands to correct Coltrane’s form, supporting the young man’s thigh with one hand and cupping his muscular ass-cheek with the other as she helped him extend his lunge.
Whoa, what am I doing? she thought, quickly taking her hands off Stacy’s boyfriend.
“Now,” she said to the class, “bring your front foot back and go into Downward-facing Dog.”
They all did so. Still walking among them, Jenny found herself staring at Stacy’s sweet, slender bottom—and then putting both hands on it. Stacy gasped, but she didn’t move or speak.
“Um, good form,” Jenny said awkwardly as she forced her hands to let go of her friend’s slim ass.
Jenny managed to keep her hands to herself until it was time for the last standing backbend. She came around to the front of the class, well away from her students, which she thought would help her get ahold of herself.
Instead, she found herself looking at half a dozen pairs of erect female nipples, thrusting against the fabric of the bras or thin cotton t-shirts that seemed barely able to contain them. Jenny felt almost as though those upturned, defiant nipples were daring her to touch them.
But even more distracting were the boys. As they each leaned back as far as they could, Jenny could clearly see Monty, Coltrane, and even Balthazar’s erections straining painfully against their shorts as though trying to rip themselves free.
Oh, those poor cocks, Jenny thought crazily. Someone should let them out.
Again, she couldn’t help herself: She went over to Vanessa and Monty, ostensibly to correct their posture, and found herself putting one hand under the small of Vanessa’s back to support her while Jenny’s other hand traveled shamelessly over the curvy teen’s chest. She could feel every detail of the girl’s upthrust nipples as they jutted through the fabric of her bra and against the palm of Jenny’s hand.
“Uhhhhh,” Vanessa moaned softly.
Jenny moved on to Monty. She put a hand under his back, too, but the other hand, although originally placed on his chest, seemed to move of its own accord right down to his crotch, gliding over his erect cock—so hard, so thick—in the process.
“Oh, God,” Monty half whispered.
She jerked her hand away, part of her chastising herself for the shameless and un-asked-for touch even as another part regretted not taking the time to feel for Monty’s balls beneath that raging erection.
Jenny managed to recover her senses enough to tell everyone to come back to a standing position, palms together. They did, and now Jenny could see all of their faces: cheeks rosy with the flush of arousal, pupils dilated with sexual need. And she knew that when they looked at her own face, they must be seeing the same thing. Her rock-hard nipples, she thought, must surely be visible through her plain white bra, and she wondered whether the ever-increasing wetness she felt between her legs was starting to soak through her undies and loose-fitting exercise pants.
And the class had only just started.
“Okay, um,” Jenny said, “everybody get with a partner.”
This was an impulsive act; she hadn’t planned on including any partner exercises in the class. But, she argued in her mind, there was nothing wrong with going with the flow and letting the experience unfold organically into whatever the collective consciousness of the group wanted it to be.
Whatever, another part of her mind said. I just want to see them touch each other.
The participants quickly partnered up: Stacy with Coltrane, Ginger with her mother, Gretchen with Adyson, and Vanessa with Monty. Young Balthazar, seeing that Melanie was the only other student left without a partner, brought his mat over to where the bespectacled brunette woman’s was; Jenny saw a hint of wickedness in the look Melanie gave the boy by way of greeting.
Jenny hadn’t been sure what she actually wanted the class to do once everyone was partnered up, but an idea came to her: a pose she had seen in a book of her mom’s about yoga for couples.
“This is, um, a two-person pose,” she explained. “So, the bigger partner should get on their knees in a, a stable position.”
One person in each pair knelt on his or her mat.
“Now, the smaller partner should straddle the bigger partner’s lap and, um, squeeze a little bit with your legs to help you stay on. Bigger partners, hold onto their shoulders so they don’t fall forward.”
Knowing that this verbal description wouldn’t be enough, Jenny went to the nearest pair—Vanessa and Monty—and helped them get into the pose. She heard both of them moan a little when Vanessa sat her curvy ass directly down on the hard shaft inside Monty’s shorts.
“Good job,” Jenny said, trying not to sound like the perverted voyeur that she felt like at that moment. “Now Vanessa, um, just arch your back so that your spine gets a good stretch.”
Vanessa bowed her back, able to bend farther now than she had on her own. Of course, this meant that her little round breasts and erect nipples jutted out even farther than before. It took considerable willpower for Jenny to stop herself from simply ripping off Vanessa’s black bra and suckling at those lovely little breasts right in front of everyone.
Jenny quickly turned away from Vanessa and Monty and looked at the rest of the class, but nothing she saw did a thing to tamp down her growing horniness. Adyson, holding up Gretchen, had a lascivious smile on her face and was whispering something into Gretchen’s ear that was making the smaller girl look simultaneously frightened and aroused. Balthazar, supported by Melanie, was inadvertently showing off his small but rock-solid erection as his body bowed, and Jenny saw that Melanie was looking at it hungrily over the boy’s shoulder. Little Ginger was on her kneeling mother’s lap, but Dr. Hirano, instead of putting one hand on each of her younger daughter’s shoulders, had put her forearm across the girl’s upper chest, thereby holding her safely in her bowed posture while the woman’s opposite hand freely wandered all over the child’s body, caressing her with loving sensuality, most especially her bare tummy and lower back. The little girl moaned softly whenever her mother’s fingers glided over a particularly sensitive spot.
But the pair that was hardest to look at was Stacy and Coltrane. They had assumed the pose correctly, but Stacy, after doing the backbend for a few seconds, had straightened up and pressed her back against Coltrane’s front. Now, Coltrane was holding her body against his with his arms wrapped around her, and Stacy was slowly moving forward and back in his lap, grinding the mound between her slender legs against the substantial bulge in Coltrane’s sweatpants.
God, she thought. They’re almost doing it. They’re almost fucking.
And then, a moment later: Almost isn’t enough.