My Yoga Friend

Cali Carter twists into a new yoga pose while Gina Valentina’s eyes stay glued to the ass moving inches from her face. When Cali turns them back to back, Gina presses in without hesitation. Her grin spreads wide, both asses tight together. Class ends. Cali thanks Gina for the studio space and turns to leave, but Gina spins her around and starts rubbing her shoulders. “You’ve earned this,” Gina says. Cali hesitates—she isn’t even on Gina’s massage table—yet feels the ache in her arms and gives in. Gina’s palms slide down, steady and warm. “Take off the clothes,” she whispers. “Wouldn’t want oil stains, and we’re both girls.” Cali laughs at herself and slips free of the tight yoga set. Gina pretends to look away, eyes flicking back for every inch revealed. Hands glide over calves, over shoulders, long strokes pulling the tension out. A towel still clings across Cali’s ass. Gina lifts it, oils her palms, and sinks them deep into the round flesh. Cali gasps at the slick fingers—then sighs, melting into the glide. She rolls over at Gina’s command and the last shred of pretense dissolves in the heat building low inside her.