I had been taking private yoga lessons with Alex for six weeks, and every single session drove me insane with need. He stood six-foot-three, all hard muscle, with dark hair tied back and those loose gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the thick bulge of his c**k whenever he moved behind me to correct my posture. Every time his rough hands gripped my hips or slid down my thighs to adjust me, my p***y clenched hard and I had to fight not to moan.
That night I booked the last slot purposely. The studio sat empty after hours, lights turned low and warm, the air carrying only the faint scent of incense and lingering sweat from earlier classes. I walked in wearing the thinnest black leggings I owned, the kind that clung like a second skin and left nothing to imagination, paired with a tiny
