The words hung in the air.

"I love you."

I guess I did still, despite all of the aggravation over the years. Beth apparently sensed it during our infrequent interaction and used it against me. Gaining compromises when I shouldn't offer any. Making it clear how happy she was with our divorce, knowing that I was not. I did love her, feeling it as my penis lay inside of her bottom, limp. That was the "why."

My ex wife, feeling my hands release their grip, crawled out from under me, her bottom essentially throwing up my penis. She stood up, kicking me hard as she bent down to grab her yoga pants, frantic to put them on. Her body was shaking from our recent encounter, thinking of the lewd and disgusting things that Beth had let me do. Thinking it was her yoga instructor. The blindfolds had done their job.

I looked up at her, almost becoming aroused again as her nursing tits swung back and forth as Beth quickly pulled up her yoga pants and hid the bald pussy she so carefully prepared for today's adventure. Ken, her yoga instructor, was young and hot and muscular. Beth was middle age, losing her beauty, and a mom. They were the perfect match for each other.

Instead, today, she got me. Ken had been taping her sessions and I had walked into his enterprise, catching him in the act. With the upper hand, not only did he turn over the thousands of hours he had recorded of various girls and woman over the years, he willfully and eagerly agreed to blindfold Beth for a yoga lesson and let me be the "instructor."

Beth performed every pose to the best of her ability. Some naked. Some in her wonderfully hot yoga outfit. Salute, Downward Dog, Cow, Camel, Stretching Cat, Happy Baby -- my personal favorite, Garland, Plow, Corpse, Wide Leg Stance, and finally, Puppy. Every crevice, every inch of her body was exposed in the process. And Ken filmed it all. It was a porn for the ages.

Beth grabbed her coat and ran for the door, holding it against her. She just wanted out of the room, leaving her green leotard and shoes behind. The initial shock, which turned to anger, then grief, was now forming rage.

"You just fucking raped me. I'm going to RUIN you!"

With that, Beth ran out the door. I imagine she put on her coat before getting to her car. But, in her state, I assumed it was a fifty fifty bet.

Ken opened the door, slightly nervous, but smiling.

"Jesus, that was pretty wicked. What do you think she is going to do?"

I moved over to my own pants, looking down at the brown smudges on my penis as I pulled them up. I wondered how I could bottle the material as a reminder of the days events. I guessed the video would be enough.

"Nothing. What's she going to tell them? Or her husband? No, she'll do nothing."

Ken's phone suddenly buzzed. He looked down at it.

"It's Elizabeth..."

Apparently she was going to do a little more than nothing. Ken read the text.

"You make me sick. I hope you like jail."

Ken did not seem happy to get the text. I calmed him down.

"Don't worry. If anyone show up, just tell them I knocked you out when you stepped into your office. I would put something in front of the mirror, though."

Ken seemed appreciative at the suggestion and my willingness to take the fall.

"Just give me the card from the camera and I'll leave."

The camera was basically thrown at me.

"Take the camera too. I want nothing to do with this anymore. I'm getting married and am happy to be rid of all of this shit."

I bent down and grabbed Beth's shoes and then moved over to the small, green piece of fabric on the ground. I held it up and admired the thin g string, wondering how in the hell Beth knew where to insert her legs. Ken sighed as he looked at it.

"Man, she sure looked good in that."

I had to agree. However, as I walked out, I turned to Ken, probably seeing him for the last time.

"But, christ, she sure looked better out of it."

Ken smiled. I shut the door and left.

I walked in a bit of a dazed stupor. My body had recovered from the sexual marathon, but my mind seemed stuck. I just kept going over and over the various yoga poses that Beth willingly put herself through. How did she get herself into the situation? And I guess it wasn't really a situation, the more I thought about it. It was a state of mind, a need. Her husband Frank didn't seem to be the type to be mean to her, but who knows what goes on behind closed doors. Almost every married couple I have been around spends half of their time arguing or bickering. I guess Beth and Frank were probably no different.

Still, what is the process that takes a woman from taking yoga classes to letting the instructor take her yoga ass. Does she just walk up and tell the guy that she wants to have sex with him? Does she start to masturbate in one of her poses and the instructor joins in? How did Beth get from point A, a married woman with two kids, to point B, a hot and horny milf pulling down her pants for the hottest 20 something stud she knows?

Approaching my bank on the way home, I realized the answer was not far away. The cards, the tapes, were all in my safety deposit box. The hundred plus woman all recorded by Ken during his private lessons. I pulled in, grabbed the card from the camera, and entered my bank. I was going to make a deposit and a withdrawal. Beth's last tape was going to be traded for her first.

I thumbed through the cards, again amazed at the sheer number of woman and cards. Beth was number 62, and I hoped that the cards were numbered. Sure enough, Ken was an organized deviant. I put the most recent card in and grabbed the 30 gig storage device clearly marked with a "1" in permanent marker. I slipped it in my pocket and left the bank.

It had been at least 30 minutes since I last saw Beth and not a peep. From her, her lawyer, her husband, the police. Nobody. I turned down my street, imagining a row of squad cars storming my house. Instead, it was perfectly quiet. Beth was certainly mad, and could be an incredible devious bitch at times, but I knew she was not stupid. If she spoke to anyone, her stay at home mom life would be over. And, she'd have to find another husband to marry, spread her legs for, and bear children for. Even though it was all she knew how to do to secure her future, it was not something she wanted to do a third time.

I walked into my house and grabbed a beer. Sure, it was lunch time on a Tuesday, but I had accomplished everything I wanted for the day. I was going to relax, thinking of the the memory stick in my pants. Wondering what was on it. Would it simply be a series of lessons, Beth not yet allowing herself to be violated? Maybe it was Beth in the larger class as he scouted her out. Who knew, which was why I walked to my desk to observe the material.

I put it in. The computer opened up the folder, showing a list of 6 different files of various sizes, but all substantial in size. The smallest was 4 gig, the largest 7.4. What I was looking for was the oldest date. And there it was, about 2 months after she gave birth to Emma, the daughter she had with her current husband. I double clicked the file.

The moment of Beth's first private yoga lesson was going to be relived.

...

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth."

Oh my god, I said Elizabeth way too loud! I practically yelled it at him. What is my problem? Just calm down. Your not some girl in high school, for christ sake.

"Hey, I recognize you from class. I'm Ken, but, I guess you already know that."

What a smile, wow. He is cute, no doubt about that. 25, maybe, but certainly not older. Nobody over 25 has arms that look so good. And his chest, fuck, his chest is shaped nicely. Just look at his eyes, don't let him catch you checking him out. Those hazel eyes, smiling at me, staring right into my soul. And man, he's a tall boy. My tall yoga instructor. He's looking at me, waiting to speak. It's my turn. Quit staring. Speak, Elizabeth. He'll think you're a freak!

"Yea, I'm in the Wednesday night class. It's really amazing."

Amazing? What are you, a girl from The Bachelor, where everything is amazing this, and amazing that? Get a grip. Sure, he has on some tight yoga sweats, and wow, his shirt is really hugging his body. Oh, fuck, I just licked my lips. Did he notice? Bite your teeth together and do not let that happen again. Fuck, why is he so hot?

"Well, thanks. It really is a great group, so I'm glad you're able to be a part of it."

Incredible. What a perfect way to respond. Respectful of the group and appreciative of me, all in one sentence. He sounds pretty articulate for a yoga instructor, almost smart. I bet he went to a great college. He looks like he could get in to any school he wanted. Oh, christ, why am I taking a yoga class from such a young guy that I have nothing in common with? You know why. Because he's hot, that's why.

"Yea, they are great."

Great? You don't know a single sole in the class, you moron. Who's great, that fat dude that was behind you, the guy you kept catching in the mirror as he stared at your ass? The women who look hideous in the tight yoga pants, fat bulging in all of the wrong places? God, I'm so glad to have nobody around from the class. That it is just you and me.

"So, have you ever had private yoga class before?"

Do I look like I've had a private yoga class before? This mom with baby fat all over her? The lady who just gave birth two months ago? Seriously, you are cute, but not very smart or observant.

"No. I thought I'd give it a shot when I read about the program on your blog. I figured I save myself some embarrassment and actually learn what I'm supposed to be doing!"

Oh, nice. Play the ignorant student looking for help from the teacher. Way to not sound desperate for attention. And can you try not to laugh so hard at your own jokes? It wasn't even that funny. Although, he is laughing with you. Man, you look cute when you laugh.

"Ha. It does help to get some of the basics down, so I completely understand. What do you want to try and work on?"

Work on? Oh my god, do I have to say it? It's so embarrassing. Why did you have to ask? Now, I have to talk about how big it is. And then you'll look at it. And then I'll just die. What should I say? Oh, this was such a mistake. Just say it. He's looking at you. You're waiting! You're making it worse. Just rip it off like a band-aid and say it, for gods sake!

"Oh, well, I guess my legs, and, uh, my bottom...."

Your bottom? Are you fricking six? Seriously. Christ, if you don't want to say butt, or ass, or gluttes, or rear, just say the usual! Every woman wants to work on their ass. Is there a place to crawl out of here? Did you see his eyes, almost laughing at the word? I mean, come on woman. Get your shit together.

"Your legs and your bottom. I have to say, you are not the first, you won't be the last, and every one in between says the same thing. But here, let me take your coat and then we can walk over to the wall of poses."

What a smooth guy. He didn't even flinch at the word or make me feel funny for saying it. You see, just relax. This is what he does all the time. It is only you who are making things weird. And a gentleman, offering to take my coat. He's coming up behind me. His hands are on my shoulders. Oh, christ, he'll be able to see my huge butt. Just be sure to thrust out your chest. Your nursing and engorged. Everyone looks. You know they do. Make sure he does.

"Here, I'll just put it over in the corner."

He didn't even give you a second glance. You spent all morning getting ready, doing your hair, makeup, nails, putting on your new yoga pants and top. For what? For nothing. He just took your coat and walked away. But christ, what was he supposed to do, stand and stare? Tell you how hot you are? Seriously? Get real. He's seen much younger girls wear much less. You have your yoga mom outfit on.

His butt sure looks good as he walks away, though, doesn't it? Yours might be flabby, but his is definitely firm. God, and now he's turned around. Look at the small bulge in his pants, the man version of a camel toe. Fuck, is that hot. But shit! He's walking towards me! Pretend you were looking at something else! Anything! Quick, before it is too late?

"So, what are those balls for?"

You IDIOT. Can you find something else to ask about besides the giant rubber balls in the corner? I mean, come on! Sure, it was the first thing you noticed, but can you try to filter out the word "balls" from your vocabulary. Please.

"They are to help with stretching and practice some of the harder poses."

He's looking at your outfit. Stand tall. Make a good impression. Smile. Push up your shoulders, and try to suck in your stomach. This is your first impression. Make it count. The black yoga pants might hug your bulky bottom, but the hot pink top hugs your bulky top. You wore the one with a large cleavage for a reason.

"I like your outfit. It's really cute. And those shoes, where did you get them? I've not seen them before."

He likes. He's looking at your shoes, so he's noticing all of you. Stand tall. Stand proud. He's eyes are still locked on them. Looking. Lingering. And then, hello eye's. They have found your cleavage. Staring, admiring. Stripping. He was a good boy, waiting an appropriate time. But, eventually, he had to look. Oh, you are so proud, grinning, knowing you are the worlds biggest tease.

"Oh, from Macy's...."

Eye contact again, and Ken is slightly blushing. Oh, you are so busted. My eyes see in your eyes that you know my eyes saw your peek. Can you see in my eyes that I see in your eyes you liked what your eyes saw?

"Well, your definitely one of my best dressed yoga clients. So...let's walk over here...."

Yes, I'll walk behind you, staring at the fabric bunching between those cute buns.

"So, Elizabeth, your request is pretty common. But, I must say...here...stand here. Now look at the mirror behind you."

Oh my god, there is a mirror here on the carpeted area. I don't want to see my own butt. I know what it looks like. But, he's looking at it. Staring at it. Waiting for me to join him looking at my ass. I guess I'll have to turn around. Oh my god, my yoga pants are buried in the crack of my bottom. And my butt cheeks are outlined perfectly.

"Look at the girls in the pictures, and look at yourself. There really is not much difference, so, we can focus on your butt for now because you want to, but your body is proportioned perfectly, and it's important to have yoga work with your entire body."

Oh my god, what a good salesman. There is no way it is close to the girls in the pictures. Maybe that one, the round Kate Upton type. I'd say she has a bit more cushion than I do. But, not that girl with the tight yoga shorts and tank top. Maybe when I was 16, but certainly not now.

"Well, thanks, but it's just a little softer than it used to be."

Just a little. Ha. More like, just a lot of motherly baby baggage.

"Alright. Well, I've got a group of poses that I generally work people through for lower body. We do it for forty five minutes, and then, for the last fifteen, we do a cool down workout or massage. It's up to you, but really, what you do after yoga is just as important as yoga itself."

I don't think so, buddy. In your dreams. I'm not some 18 year old who has no clue about the purpose of your massage. Spare me.

"Well, I'll probably just do the cool down. I'm not much of a massage person."

Sorry to disappoint.

"Sure, whatever you feel comfortable with. But for now, here are the 6 poses we would work through today, and if you come back, we can always add more."

Oh my god, if I hear the word Downward Dog again, I'll flip. It's so embarrassing when the whole class is looking around, some of the girls giggling off to the left. Thank god nobody will be behind me, staring at my ass. That was number one reason for getting out of the class. I cannot do those any more in front of people, especially when I keep tipping over and can't hold my balance.

"So... We'll start with the Cobra.."

Not bad, just lying on my stomach, but well, isn't she just poking out her chest.

"Then Upward Facing Plank Pose..."

For my legs? Seriously? How does looking at the sky on my hands and toes help my butt?

"Here is Bridge with a Kick in this picture."

Oh, right, I'll almost be able to do that.

"And Divers Pose..."

How do women bend so tightly and make it look so graceful?

"Three Legged Dog..."

Oh, of course. A dog pose. My god, who comes up with this stuff? It may work, but I mean, really, does it need the name?

"And, because you look like a goddess, it is only appropriate that we end with the goddess."

Wow. Now that is a pretty pose. And, he called me a goddess! Way to earn some browning points. But sorry, it's still no massage for you today.

"First, though, you should probably take off your shoes."

My shoes. Right. I completely forgot. My mistake. The standard on one knee and take them off should work. And I feel his eyes, looking directly down into my shirt. My breasts are slightly bulged between my arms. Stop trying to show them off, pretending you are not. Don't lie to yourself, Beth.

"Here. I'll put them with your coat."

Whoa, hello Ken, leaning into me as I stand up. On my bare feet, toes polished a bright red. Take my shoes, thank you, and place them over by my coat. Butt walking away again. Penis walking back. I'm looking at your eyes, but there it is, bulging in my peripheral vision. I see it. I wonder if he sees that I see it. His eyes are mysterious. His lips full. He's talking again. Listen.

"Do you have any questions? Thoughts?"

Questions? Like, how do you expect me to put my body in those positions? Thoughts? Nope. None. Your smiling all of the time makes it pretty hard to think. And, you have a dimple. My mind is blank.

"Nope. All set."

God. The time has come. He's sliding a mirror to the top of the matt, opposite the wall mirror, creating a an infinite series of reflections. It's a little freaky.

"Great. Then, here, we'll use this matt right in between these mirrors. To get better, it really helps to watch yourself. I'll do the pose first, show you what to do, and then we'll spend about 5 minutes with you on each one."

I have to watch myself make a fool of myself? Can we just turn the mirrors off? I don't want to watch myself get better, stay the same, or get worse. But, whoa. You are lying down right in front of me, looking long and muscular, staring at me in the mirror. There are your twins. I guess I don't mind watching. That butt. Flexing. Back arching, head lifting.

"Now, for the cobra, this is the goal. Hold your head high, stomach on the ground, and arch your back as hard as you can, trying to point your chest right at the mirror.

Look at you, getting into the pose so effortlessly, so smoothly, and then casually standing next to me, expecting me to repeat it that easily? Seriously? Can you do that again? I've already forgot.

"So...just get down and lie on my stomach?"

Christ, I'm bending down right in front of him, letting him get a nice view of my butt. He's just standing there, not doing anything. Watching me lie down for him, crushing my chest. My breasts better not leak. That would bring things to a quick end. My arms are by my side, legs together. And, now, arch... Holy crap, my back is not happy with the sudden movement.

"Pretend you are pushing your shoulders back..."

Ken's kneeling next to me. My face is breathing hard, puffing out. This is not a very flattering experience. But, my hair looks awesome. And my lips still have their bright red. Look at yourself, stretching, lifting up your chest. Pushing it out. Boobs straining against your yoga top. Exposing your bra, the white sheer skin that is an official top portion of an engorged breast making an appearance.
"Here....pull your shoulders back..pull your chest to the sky..."

Ken is now leaning into me, hands on either shoulder, helping me bend my body. His eye's are clearly looking down my cleavage. Peaking. Trying to enjoy the white flesh that is stretching into view. Go ahead and try. I have a bra that has a better defense than the White House. Nobody jumps my fence. But, I'll arch a little harder and tease you some more.

"OK. Nice, but lets start over. Now. Arch your cobra pose, like you are about to strike."

The second time sure seems a bit easer. Especially with you pulling. Oh. Pull harder. I need your help. Look at me, nursing boobs taking up all focus in the mirror. My tits look awesome, and Ken, I see you looking at them in the mirror also. We are both admiring. Wondering if they will strain out of the thin fabric holding them in place. Oh, wow, I licked my lips. My mouth is dry. I need a drink already.

"Again."

Ken, your hands have a firm grip, in case you didn't know. The way they hold me down, pause, and then pull me back. Oh my god, your palms are moving below my neck for a more stable surface, more leverage. I'm watching your fingertips sliding onto my chest bone and press me back. Your palms are pressing into the top quarter of my nursing boobs. Feeling the warmth beneath. I have to slow my breath down and relax. You have to feel my heart pounding blood through my body.

"Thats five. Great job. I must say, Elizabeth, you really look good."

Lets look good. One last flex, pushing out your chest. Nice finish. You did it. The first of six. Done. The cleavage on my outfit seems to have stretched out some. Ken is standing, so I guess I should too. There you are, miss hot pink top, profile in the mirror. Your butt isn't quite that wide from this position. God, exercising feels good. It makes me look good.

"Thanks. It wasn't that bad."

"The next one is pretty tough, but great for legs. Basically, from a sitting position with your legs extended, put your hands like this, slide your feet forward, and lift your hips. An Upward Facing Flank."

An upward facing penis. Oh my god. Look at that. Your basically presenting it to the mirror, like a gift, staring at it. I'm staring at it. Your hips flex and your penis flexes. Are you even wearing underwear? Is that, wait, is that the outline of your...of the tip? I'm standing almost right over it, looking down at it. Shit, it just moved. Jiggled. Breath, Elizabeth. It's just a penis.

"It looks hard."

No, it doesn't. I wonder what it would look like hard. If Ken would mind me pulling down his yoga pants, just to get a look. Too late now as Ken has slid his legs back, out of position, and is now standing next to me. He must know that I just stared at his crotch the whole time. Am I smiling at him to thank him for the little show? I guess I am.

"No, you can handle it. Just sit down and don't think about it. Just do it."

I'm sitting. Looking at me in the mirror. Sliding my legs forward, glancing up at Ken's reflection, seeing his eyes once again burning a hole in my yoga top. Let him look. If he can show me his penis, I can let him look at my breasts, though he'll get no intimate outline from me. Now, lift my hip and.... Oh, my stomach. This is not my strongest muscle. But, I've got it, looking at myself in the mirror, trying to balance with a slightly wobble.

"Great. Now, tilt your head back as far as you can and stretch your legs forward."

The mirror. The ceiling. The wall behind me. I'm stretching, feeling my neck strain, my hips rise, my breasts stand proud. I don't think I can hold it. I feel my body sagging. It's not going to last.

"Here..."

Sliding feet, and then... Oh my god. Hands on my ass! Ken is propping me up, keeping me straight. My body almost jumped to the ceiling at his touch. I wonder if he felt the sudden squeeze of my ass, scared at the unexpected pressure. His left hand is palming me, stretching his fingers across my butt crack. It's not like he is slipping his hands down my pants, but christ, doesn't a guy need to take you to dinner before something like this? It sure motivates me to keep my form!

"Now relax..."

No more hand, thank the lord. Try to be a bit graceful as you lower yourself. Just a bit more. Now, you can lay back and not look like an out of shape, middle age woman. Just close your eyes and relax.

"Again..."

Oh, shit. Sit up, extend the legs, and...lift! If Ken was presenting his penis to the world, you just introduced him to your heavily disguised camel toe. Your granny panties won't let it appear in normal situations, just walking around. But, pushing your crotch to the sky changes the physics of things. Luckily, your heavy bush is providing ground cover. Ken's eyes, a foot away, just have the basic mound and shape. But, it's certainly more than you ever showed anyone else. Yoga is definitely not for the modest. You are going to be modest, Elizabeth.

You get to relax, this time just dropping your butt to the ground. Then, on cue, your hip thrust is magnificent, pushing your pussy swiftly into the air. I think Ken definitely stared at your boobs this time, watching their jiggle back and forth, settling down as your head came to rest. You didn't sag at all this time, but Ken placed his hands on your butt again. Oh, this feels nice. You look good in the mirror, long blonde hair draping beneath you. Throwing my head back, christ, it probably looked like I just came.

No hands on the butt, but sweet lord, he is cupping the underside of my back and my thigh. My upper thigh, fingers curing around to my inner thigh. Inches away from my lady parts. My vagina. My labia. My clitoris. My birth canal. My god. His fingers moved, keeping me rigid. I feel my strength faltering, unable to focus on my pose, but rather his hands. Hands that push harder into my sagging weight. Hands that are pushing into my flesh, which is bulging against my butt, which is pushing into my vagina, where my clitoris grows. He's three steps away from masturbating me.

Oh, please let go. Please slide your hand closer. I'm finished with the pose. I need to stop. Hold me up, push into me. Don't you dare wiggle your fingers. But go ahead, squeeze, touch, help. Please don't go. Please come back. My butts on the mat. Open your eyes. Clear your mind from the wandering lurid visions of probing fingers. You're scaring me, Elizabeth.

"Could you feel it? Working inside of you? I thought you planked great."

Did I plank great? I guess I did. I didn't see much and left it all up to you, my head back and breasts high. It's only two poses and already, your body is sore. Am I that out of shape? Has it been that long since I exercised?

"Yea. I definitely felt it."

My chest is glistening with sweat, just a light sheen. Look at me, in the mirror, the yoga mom all primped and pretty. You haven't worked yourself out of the light dusting of makeup you put on this morning. And the bright red nail polish on your finger and toes stand out against your pale while skin. Arching feet with curled toes. It looks like I am crawling into bed, getting ready for some nooky. I need to focus. Ken is staring at me as I stare at myself.

"Alright, the next one is probably the hardest. Better to get it out of the way. The bridge."

Ken is moving towards the mat. I guess he wants it. I'll just slide off. My body does not want to stand. And now he's lying, six inches away, bending he legs. Giving me directions on where to place my hands, my feet. He's on his back, telling me it is about lifting my hips and, he's lifting his. Thrusting them up, legs separated. His shirt is pulling back and there is is flat, rippled stomach. Just above his penis, stretching into his fabric. I can see the outline of his balls. Hanging below what looks like the formation of his shaft. If I move just a little...yea...this is a better view.

"...just relax...and lift..."

He's humping the air. His body lowers, and then lifts. He's not sexually aroused in the slightest. Imagine if he was, his long dick pointing into the waiting air. Would I rather masturbate him and watch him cum, spraying all over? Or give him a blow job and feel the texture of his yoga penis, tasting his sperm. I'd rather watch. I need some water. Licking my lips is not working. Wait, the penis is gone. Left. Ken has rolled off of the mat.

"The hard part is getting a good arch in your back and holding it. Do it sideways, so you can watch."

Now it's my turn on the mat. Ken twisted it so I can turn my head to the side. Am I really going to do this. My feet are touching the cold mat. I slide them back, bending them, opening them slightly. Ken is looking down at my swollen chest, rising and falling beneath my heavy breathing. I hold my breath, pursing my lips, and lift my butt off of the ground. I turn my head, watching myself push up to the invisible man on top of me.

God, if I didn't have my top on, these boobs of mine would be in my face. Look at this angle. Ken is looking down at my form, eyes right between my legs. I can feel the fabric stretching around my pussy. I can feel my wetness growing. I fucking hope I'm not sweating through my pants. Oh, please, I don't need to add to the show. My fuck me pose is enough. My shirt is even rising away from my hips. Three inches of pale white stomach, the soft stomach of a mother. The...

NO! Holy fuck, is that...? Close your eyes... Don't look. Now, open them. Is that what you just saw? Oh, fuck! It is. A thin wispy trail of your bush is poking out! I knew I should have shaved! I can't believe it! It's so embarrassing! Maybe he doesn't notice. Your yoga pants are black. As black as your thick curls. I can't thrust up again. I'm mortified. Roll your stomach and try to move the fabric back into position.

"Now lift..."

If you draw attention to it, trying to pull up your pants, it will only add to the humiliation. He obviously hasn't noticed yet. Maybe it was a figment of your imagination. The fabric. Look at it again. Just glance in the mirror. Christ, arch your back so he doesn't focus on your sagging bottom. Push high. Now open. Peak.

Mother of...You stretched even more of your bush into exposure! At least half an inch! And it isn't just peaking out, there about a thousand small black erections, at least an inch tall! You are throwing it up, into his face. At least a five inch gap of stomach skin is now exposed, including your belly button. How can he not notice? Not look? Oh, you idiot, just letting your bush go wild since getting pregnant. You haven't touched it once! What did you expect? Fuuuccckkk!

"Relax...."

Oh, my god, I need to relax. Get out of this pose. How many is that, six? Four more? Just don't stretch so hard. That is the key. Christ, it's not like he hasn't seen it before. Yea. On his mom. Girls these days clearly shave themselves for a reason. To avoid the vulgarity and embarrassment. I'd give anything for a bald pussy right now!

"Lift..."

Slow down your breathing. You'll only the situation worse. Relax Slowly lift, don't force up your hips to high. Keep the springy jobs in place. Oh my god, his hand is on my back, pushing me up, helping me. Higher than I went before. He's lifting me. Oh, what am I going to do? Just go with it? Pretend I'm not exposing myself to him? God, if I can let some man put his hand in my vagina and pull out a baby, a strip of pubic hair should be nothing. Come on. Get a grip.

"Great. Nice bridge work. Why don't you get a drink and take a break. Halfway done."

Oh, my mouth feels like I've been in a desert. But you don't have a drink, do you. You spent all your time getting yourself pretty and you forgot about a drink. Thank God his back is to you, getting his own drink. Pull your freakin' pants up, now! He's probably scarred for life, seeing such a wide and hairy patch of hormonal pubic hair. Grossed out beyond compare. Just get out of here and get a drink.

"I'll go to the drinking fountain. I didn't bring water."

Yoga and no water. Real brilliant. A double threat girl. Brilliant, and a giant bush.

"Oh, hey. Have mine. I've got plenty."

He's giving me his water! God, what a charmer. Maybe it's his thank you for the intimate show you just gave him. Maybe he's one of those guys that likes it? Ha. I bet. Try not to show so much teeth when your smiling at him, thanking him for such a simple act of kindness. You're acting like he just saved your life!

"Thanks. That's sweet."

Sweet. Are you his grandmother? Can you act your age? A young, yoga hotty is offering me his water. Take it. Enjoy it. Open it, drink it, watch him while you drink it, throat bobbing. Like swallowing his cum.

Oh, you sicko! Are you that hormonal? Postpartum, that you are turning everything into some wild attraction that someone has for you? That you have for them, trying to see if they will also then have it for you? Can you buy groceries without trying to see who in the store is checking you out? Wondering if they are undressing you with their eyes? Admiring your butt as you bend over to look at the produce? Just because he is drinking water does not mean mean that he is hot for you. But, he does have the certain twinkle as he looks at me. I bet...

"Alright. On to the divers pose."

Oh, god, the one where I have to fold myself in half. I'll be lucky to make it halfway.

"Just stand tall, feet shoulder width apart, arms extended to your sides, stand on your toes, and...bend as low as you can."

Holy bulging balls. They look like they are small water balloons about to burst! And his ass is opening right before me. God, can I see his butt-hole? Is that where it is? Where it would be? And jesus, his schlong has gotten longer, thicker, almost swollen. I'd say he has gone from completely flaccid to semi erect. I guess he might be a bush man after all. Oh, momma. What would the view look like if I just pulled down...

Oh shit. He looked to the side, making sure I got the idea and saw me checking him out. He's holding the pose, staying still, inviting me to look. Don't do it. Stare directly at his eyes. Don't turn your head. Outlast him. He's standing. Wow, that was tough.

"So, sideways to the mirror, place your feet...and..."

He's behind me. I'm not even going to look in the mirror. I know his feet are just two steps in back of me. I'm going just going to look forward, pretend nothing is happening. I'm doing this in my room, bending over, feeling my butt cheeks spread wide. God, my pussy is stretching against the fabric between my legs, probably smiling at him. A happy clam. I can't even get halfway, oh, my legs are burning.

"Nice...just keep your knees straight..."

He's on the ground, kneeling behind me, head inches from my spread bottom. He's pulling back my knees, straightening my legs. Don't fall back or you'll plant your ass crack right on his nose. Keep straight and steady. God, at least you were smart enough to buy the double ply pants and wear your heavy granny panties. Even the government couldn't get a glimpse at what you're hiding between your legs.

"Bounce a little, on your toes..."

Bulge, bulge, bulge goes the pussy. Just look, just for a second, see what your profile is. God, your butt is round, curving from your back to your thighs. Nothing excessive, just a nice round bulge. And, there are his eyes. Riveted to the center of your butt. Staring at it swelling back to him. I bet he would flip out if I just reached behind me and pulled down my pants. Gave him the view of his lifetime. Do you think he'd respond? Take the next step? Is he at all interested? Do you dare test him?

"Stand and dive again."

He didn't move as I stood, watching my bottom squish together. He's still on his knees. Waiting. Ready. Your butt isn't that bad, so just relax it. Oh, christ, you just flexed your ass. Your yoga pants are showing every movement and wiggle. Get the pose going. Arms, toes, bend. Slowly, don't back your bottom into his face. Feel it bulge. Feel it open. Feel your pussy flare. Present it to him. Thank him for the water, because you are going to need it again. And, done. You have spread your ass for Ken.

He's not saying anything. The room is oddly quiet. Should you stand up. I'll just peak in the mirror. And...Oh, shit. He's definitely checking out my ass. And your exposed back. Oh boy, and your back dimples are exposed. And the yoga pants are pulling low, just at the y of your butt crack, right at the top. He definitely is getting a good view. If I just reached back and pull down...

"Nice... just a few more seconds...great. You held it for 30 seconds. That's pretty good. Turn this way."

Ken is sliding to the side. At the top of the matt. I turn obediently. Why? How is this helpful?

"It might be easier for you if your legs are a bit further apart...and I'll push your back to help..."

Well, if he says so, then in must be so. Pointing my chest out at him, firm and proud, the hot mom that I am. He smiles at me and I smile back. He looks, just for the briefest of glances at my chest, unable to resist my presentation, and looks back at my eyes. Both of our eyes acknowledge the trespass, and I know he thinks I'm hot. I feel it. I am beautiful.

Reaching down, my butt is aimed right at the mirror. I look between my legs, staring at my own spread ass. The outline of my white panties is perfectly clear. Fuck, even the swell of my lips where I gave birth to two kids is smiling back at me. At Ken. It isn't crystal clear, but I see it without a problem. And the top of my butt, now with an inch of crack exposed!

Ken is pushing into my back, looking at my eyes in the mirror as I inspect myself. And now he inspects, looking at my butt, watching it bend open as he pushes harder on my back. He's almost bouncing me, pushing me to a smooth rhythm. I feel my butt smile in unison with the pushing.

His eyes are no longer looking into the mirror. He is looking down my exposed bottom crack! I wonder how far down he can see? Just the top? Or, the black hairs that form a trail of tears down to my butt hole. My bunny hole. My poop hole.

"Do you feel it here..."

Ken puts his hands to the back of my thighs, pulling on my legs. The fabric of my yoga pants stretches from the tugging. He squeezes my legs, almost massaging them as he holds me. My pants feel like they are being pulled down. I let it continue. I want him to stop, but christ, is he actually going to do it? I close my eyes, ready to scream.

"Nice. You certainly have a flexible body for the first time."

Ken stands back. I look up from my position, right into his penis. More erect. More outlined. Pointing, almost, off to the side of his legs. I stand up, flushed, ready to get home and just take a warm bath. With candles. And nobody home but me. I will probably be in there all day. Just two more, and then it is play time.

"Yea. I fell real good."

Oh boy, I feel good. I'm going to feel myself real good.

"Nice. Now, you've down Down Dog in class, but this one is a bit different. It's called three legged dog. Just face the mirror, get in your down dog position...and..."

Oh my god, you are bending over right in front of me. Look at those balls again. Your penis is definitely awake. It's tucking itself along your thigh. I wonder if you'd jump if I just touched it, ever so gently. Maybe squeezed those balls. God, this is my image for bath time. Remember it Elizabeth. Touch yourself to it.

"...kick."

Christ, look at it fold and move between your legs as you kick. It's like a little person, living down there, moving around, exercising with us. Tell it to do some jumping jacks, or sit ups. I'd like to see your dick do the downward dog.

"Now. Your turn. Five kicks each leg, five times, holding each kick for five seconds."

Shit. How can you do this one with any sort of modesty. He's waiting for you, right behind you. His smiles are softer and more purposeful. It makes him look so sexy. His face is so chiseled. His warm penis, right in line with your bottom. Spread your legs, look at yourself in the mirror, and bend. Eyes on yourself, but looking at his reaction. Slow, hands in front, ass in the air, watch his head tilting. Admiring your hot bottom. Thirty five and you still got it. Let him look. He wants to look. This guy, fresh out of college, is loving you.
"Now, extend your leg back and kick..."

Straight and high. Flexing your ass. Oh, this is going to be tough to do, holding it for two seconds, then releasing. My butt is rolling left and right. My one leg is wobbling, not used to the position. But Ken grabs my extended ankle and holds it, keeping me still. His hand is on my inner thigh, just above my knee, squeezing. Touching.

Again, and this time, my balance is better. My legs are split open as Ken pushes my leg high. I look in the mirror, shocked at the image of Ken standing behind me, bent over, as though he is fucking me. I wonder what it would feel like to have him fuck me in this position. I don't doubt he could just slip right into me, my vagina wet and ready for him. Now that would take some serious skill on my part. Practice might make perfect.

Ass spread, kick, insert penis, drop leg. Ass spread, kick, insert penis, drop leg. All of this kicking and my shirt is slipping down my back. Dimples are back in play, and so is my butt crack. The Bermuda triangle. Go head Ken, fly your ship over the area, watch it get lost. Lift my leg up. Make me hold the last one longer. That's it. Keep me balanced, placing your hand on the side of my hip. Your fingers against my exposed midsection. Feeling the softness that is my waist.

"Nice position. Now, the other leg."

Ugh. My legs are killing me. Time to stand up and move them around. And my arms, stretched out in front of me. This is awful. Shake your arms, get them loose, bend your legs, work out the soreness. Look at Ken in the mirror, watching you wiggle around. I've never felt so admired, so longed for, so beautiful. And I'm just a mess. Actually, looking in the mirror, I'm not that frazzled. My hair still looks good. Should I give him a little more tease? Reward him for being such a doting boy? I don't have many poses left.

"Yea...it's getting towards the end, so you are probably getting a bit tired. But, when your sore and tired, you accomplish the most. Let's try and finish..."

Yea. I'm going to try. Going to try my best Ken. But first, let me adjust myself, get ready, stretch to the right, the left, run my hands along my legs, pull the back of my yoga pants down just a bit, nobody's looking, nobody's noticing. Just a friendly hello to you from my bunnies. Let me turn around, back to the mirror, bend over to the down dog position, look between my legs. And...

Perfect. Just the top inch of each cheek. There you go, Ken. A quick thank you. Now, I'm kicking up my leg, towards the mirror, and you get to watch the top of my butt roll from side to side. Again. Kick. Hold. Expose. Kick. Hold. Expose. And now, I see you, coming behind me, moving to hold my leg high, resting your hand on the side of my hip again. Thumb on the very top of my butt. I know you're there, sensing you, but not looking. Now, peaking up, between my legs, between your legs, watching your penis harden as you stare at me. Do I make you hard?

"Great. That's it. You'll feel that tomorrow."

I'll feel it when I get home, that's when I'll feel it. I've been watching you watch me, and I've got quite the image collection in my memory bank that I'll be cycling through. And if Frank is lucky, hubby will have some left overs to work on as well. I've got a feeling bath time will not be enough time to go through all of the images from today.

"Now, you're going to look beautiful in the last pose. If anyone can make it look incredible, it's you."

Oh, what a way to make the client feel good! I will absolutely make it look incredible for you Ken. I will not disappoint. I'm just not able to remember what it is. Was it "D" something, or did it start with "G"....

"The goddess pose for a goddess."

Goddess. Yea. That's right. My favorite from the bunch. It looked so sexy. So Egyptian.

"Spread your legs wide, twist your feet out, arms out, bend the elbows, hands to the sky, and...."

What the fuck. Your penis is folding up into your waste, almost trying to climb out of your pants. Even your balls are now facing me, as though your entire package was waving at me from a cruise ship. "Hi. Here we are. Look at us!" Your thighs are facing me, causing your penis to practically jump for joy at the freedom it now gets to experience.

"...squat low, almost in a siting position. Now, your turn."

Ken is at the back of the mat, once again waiting, watching. Ready for me to make a mockery of some yoga pose and then come to the rescue and help me find my balance. He made it look so easy, just opening up your legs. But, the foot thing is weird. I'm squatting, opening my thighs, wiggling my butt, trying to twist my ankles. Here comes my hero, kneeling behind me, face practically in my ass, pulling my toes and forcing my feet into position. Oh, this pose tingles as my loins are pulled open.

"Yea. The feet are tough, but you need them in position. It really opens up the pose."

It sure does. My inner thighs are now outer thighs. My arms are now bent and pointing up. I'm a leg spread fly on a windshield. That's what I feel like. Ken pushed down on the top of my legs, forcing me into a deeper squat, almost bending my legs at a 90 degree angle. This is not easy, and I know I'm about to fall back, my center of balance unable to find anything remotely close to center. My body is tipping. I'm going to have to move my feet.

Hands on the ass. Oh shit. Ken is propping me up, letting me sit in his hands for posture and support. His fingers bend all of the way to the front, with his little fingers running dangerously close to the center of my crack. I feel the digits push into my bottom, squeezing me, supporting me. A perfectly acceptable action for any yoga instructor and their client. But Ken, fuck, Ken is too warm and attractive to be feeling my butt. The only reason my gynecologist get's to look between my legs is because she is old and fat.

"Stand and squat again. I'll be your chair."

So, he wants me to sit on him. I can't believe this is how he makes a living. Letting his hands be supports for middle age moms. Up. Now, down. Lower, wait for the feeling of his hands. Lower still, almost at a 90 degree bend between your knees and legs. A bit more, now bent low so that your pussy is hanging down and your butt cheeks are folding open. And, there they are, the soft hands waiting for my ass. Ready for it. Waiting.

Ken looks over my shoulder, fingertips poking forward underneath me. We are both looking at myself, arms and legs open wide, butt low, chest thrust forward. Ken is not smiling, but struck with a serious, focussed expression.

"You are a goddess. Seriously. You make this pose beautiful."

His hands are now under my thighs, palms up, fingers wrapping around for a grip. Ken is pulling me open, stretching my loins, watching my crotch as he does it. He is pulling the fabric into me, low on my stomach. I close my eyes, giving him permission. It is a simple action, one he has performed daily on countless woman, I'm sure. It is his job. But, now, he seems to be purposefully dragging my pants. Slipping it to where the wide bush of mine starts to come into view.

He stops, staring at the woman before him. I let him. Desperate for him to just keep going. But, he doesn't. Ken is not going to make a move on a suburban mom during her first yoga class. If at all. What have you been fantasizing about this whole time? He probably stopped on purpose once he saw your pubic hair come into view, not meaning to expose you. He'd have let his hands slip multiple places throughout the session if that was his intention. Everything was a simple close call, easily explained as day in the life of yoga. Just get home so you can get the orgasm out of you that is clouding your vision.

"Wow. Nice job today. I'll have to come up with something a lot more challenging if you come back."

It's done. Open your eyes. Stand up. Let your body relax. The beautiful yoga instructor made everything worth it, even if it was all in your mind. Look him in the eyes. Tell him thank you. Your body is sore, ready to soak, and you need to pump your breasts. Engorged breasts might be a great way to keep people watching you, and you might have been trying to impress your yoga boy, but they are certainly uncomfortable when they are being moved in so many different directions.

"Not too much, I hope. I am already starting to feel sore."

That's right, mention your soreness so you can look in the mirror at the source of your pain. Your bottom, round and well defined in this yoga pants. The center of your butt fabric deeply wedged into your ass, showing the right and left cheek as individual units. Move it from side to side, see if it shrank any during the day. Let Ken stare also, looking at your progress.

"Well, like I said, I'm happy to massage it out. It can be an important part of the workout."

Oh, yes, spare me, again. You've mentioned it twice, and I'm declining again. Your hands do not need to be moving all over my skin. I can do that just fine myself. Who knows what kind of operation your running here, but I'm definitely not having it.

"OK, yeah, I'd like that."

You'd like what!? A massage? Are you out of your mind, woman? You must be, because this is your mind talking, and you are not getting a massage by some yoga guy, no matter how young and handsome he is. You have no idea where his fingers have been, or might go. Definitely not going to happen.

Yea? Well listen mind, this is your body speaking. If I don't get a massage, I'll die. And how many hot young guys are roaming around my neighborhood offering? None. Because the husbands will fucking kill them. I don't see any husbands here. What Frank does not know, will not hurt him. It is just a stupid massage, and I'll be fully clothed.

"Oh. Great. Then, let me grab a couple things and I'll be right back."

Bye, bye Ken's butt, walking out the door. Hello sexy yoga girl, primping in the mirror, getting your hair back into position. Wet your lips, smooth out your eye brows, wipe the beauty back into your eyes. Smile, check your teeth, lick them clean. Your makeup may have faded, but it's not gone yet. The doors opening. Turn away.

"Here is a large towel and robe. Just get comfortable however you want, and then knock."

Yea. What are you going to do now, body? The mind would certainly like to know that. Ken has left and the door is now closed, waiting for you to knock. To prepare. So, how do you plan on preparing?

Shit. OK mind, I wasn't thinking about this. What the hell. I could just leave on my yoga outfit, but that would be about the most middle age woman thing to do in the world. I may as well be my own grandmother if I do that. I am not getting naked, if that's what you're worried about mind. No chance in that. Not under a towel or a robe. So, christ, I guess that leaves two choices. I can just run and never come back. Or.

Alright mind, this is what I'm going to do. I'll wear the robe over my underwear. My bra and panties are more like weapons of mass protection than anything sexy. The Hubble telescope couldn't peer into my galaxy while I was wearing them. And, I'll wear the towel over them as a redundant form of cover.

Body, you are so lost, it's not even funny.

Screw it. Off with the top and thrown, to the wall by my coat. God, it was squeezing my tits. It is actually a relief to get it off. And the bottoms, more like a second skin. Man, my legs can feel the cool air, already enjoying their release. Now, stand in front of the mirror and look. What an unsexy sight. A bra that might double as a nuclear radiation suit, and panties that look more like adult diapers from the back. Just pull down the front of your panties...

Yikes, there is that massive, unkempt bush that kept making an appearance. Smooth it down, brush it. And rub that towel between your legs, into your wet folds, wow, they were wet. I doubt it was all sweat. Dry the small sweat from your legs and stomach, now bra. Lift it up quick and, well, there are some pretty sweaty boobs. Thank the lord he can't see the size of your swollen nipples. He might think you are an alien. Tuck them back into place, wrap yourself up in the towel. Robe on...

There, mind, not so bad. I have wrapped myself up pretty tightly. Time to knock and let him know we are ready. Fuck, the towel untucks as I walk. Just hold it, keep it in place. Tap on the door, wait, and here he comes.

"Alright, you look cozy. Here, let me put this here."

Another large towel, right on our workout mat. Smack in between the mirrors. I guess this is home base. And hello bottle of oil. I didn't think of that, adding another little twist. Perhaps the mind was right about running. Although people in the parking lot might look a little concerned at the lady who looked like she just flew over the cuckoo's nest.

"But...it might be easier without the robe...."

There you go, body. Nice plan. Just cover everything up so he can't give you a massage. That's a brilliant way to get a massage.

Alright, mind, nobody likes a know-it-all.

"Sure. Yea. I don't know what I was thinking."

Just let it fall. Now, instead of tightly wrapped ball of cotton, you look like you just got out of the shower. Wonderful. Just lie down and hide. Close your eyes. Relax. Listen to the bottle open. Hear his hands rubbing the oil between his palms, warming it up.

My feet! Oh, my feet are being touched. No warning that we are starting. Fingers squeezing into my arch, my heel, oh, it feels so good. A wave of warm energy sweeps through my body. The oil makes his fingers slide right into my muscles, my skin.

"You've got beautiful feet..."

My feet. They feel so relaxed as Ken sits with his back to me, kneading them. I peak from under my eyelids, looking down at the moving hands, fingers running between my curled toes. Decorated with fresh polish. Up to my shins, pressing into the calves behind them.

It is pure bliss, feeling the hands of such an Adonis, roaming over me. Not the hands of an out of shape husband, soft and losing his crisp features. Or a gynecologist, medical and uninterested. Your body deserves the careful attention of a beautiful, sexy, strong man of youthful appearance. Even if he did just get done staring at your bottom.

"You have the legs of a goddess..."

A goddess. You. That is what you are. How you should be treated. Pampered, like a Queen, by her servants. Each one more gorgeous than the next. And if that means the towel slips away as his fingers push into your knees, slightly parting your legs, it is perfectly fine. Beauty is meant to be beholden. So what if he beheld my ass.

Your legs are alive with the electric relief that comes from a deep massage after a workout. Ken was so right. I feel so much tension removed from the deep pressure, the blood rushing into my muscles as his fingers release their pressure. Both hands now rubbing my upper right thigh, forcing the towel to gap open around my midsection.

Onto the left thigh, pushing, distorting. Oh, why does it feel so good? My legs want to spread open, let him probe, inside, where I'm warm. Ready. Is he nervous? Scared? I'm practically naked lying beneath him. His hands are so close. Please, Ken, slip inside of my panty line. I just let you look. Now, I want you to touch. Touch your goddess.

Brushing over the sides of my underwear, I can't believe it. He's totally bypassed the one area that is becoming most interested in a massage. The massive chia pet of a crotch must just gross him out. Fuck! I need to start trimming it. His hands are moving the soft tissue in my stomach, fingering my belly button. My body is sagging in disappointment.

The towel falls completely to my side. I'm totally exposed, feeling the cool air rush over my body. I've shown more skin at the beach, but didn't let the closest guy walk up to me and start rubbing oil into my body. But why has he stopped? His hands have paused, his body no longer moving. I open my eyes. What is he doing?

Holy christ, it's my bra. My nursing bra! I bet he's never seen something so horrendously unsexy on a woman. No black lace. No pink flowers. Bulky, heavy fabric rising high over my engorged breasts. As white as my skin. His eye's look like he is seeing an alien walk off of the mother ship. I have to defend myself for such a hideous display.

"It's a nursing bra."

Ken looks at me, dumbfounded. Eyes wide as he realizes the implications of the statement.

"Nursing..."

Look at Ken, admiring them. Almost worshiping them with his surprised stare. Lusting at the mysterious treasures. I've held them out for every man in the mall, nursing my kids. Couples out on romantic dinners, nursing in the restaurant. Husbands stare, wanting them, but they remain off limits while breast feeding children. Yet, with this young man, leaning over me, adoring every part of me, filling me with confidence, beauty, and happiness, they are completely on limits.

"Just unsnap the top..."

You just gave him permission! Asked for a tit massage! That was not on the agenda, body! His hands are trembling. The confidence in his movements is gone. The nervous energy, ready to reveal a never before seen object. Lactating breasts. He unsnaps the top of my left breast, slowly pulling open the material, and shows you just how beautiful you are.

"Oh...Elizabeth...it's unbelievable...it's gorgeous..."

Oh, christ, his hands. They are so warm. So soft on the top of my chest. I can feel my milk letting down, swelling my nipple. The blood vessels are bulging, pumping blood, moving nutrients. His hands are cupping me, feeling the weight, gently squeezing their firmness. My breasts are orgasmic, ready to release.

"Careful...I haven't nursed today..."

Too late. His gentle prodding of your distended three inch nipples has done the damage. A small spray, erupting, but I'm not embarrassed. He's mesmerized, repeating the process, watching the milk stream to the side and down the side of my breasts. He speaks to no-one.

"It's milk..."

He's looking at me. Mouth open. Eyes asking. Begging. Seeking permission. You've never, ever let anyone other than your children taste. Period. You need your husband's respect. Never would you debase yourself with him in such a manner. But a yoga instructor, young, slim, an Adonis. Just tilt your chest slightly. Raise it. Present it to him. Look at your nipple, indicating your willingness.

Ken is leaning in, so close your eyes. Just let it happen. OMG! His lips, surrounding my breast, tongue extended, licking! My milk is letting down. My body tingles. I feel the sprays entering his mouth! Oh, I feel it between my legs. I always do. Push up your chest, hands behind you head, and enjoy the feelings.

His hand is running down your stomach! Oh, god, his touch is so warm. So electric. Moving into your waste-band, searching. It feels so much better letting someone else touch you, feel you while breastfeeding, instead of yourself. I could never let Frank know what I do while nursing. How could he look at me?

Fingers are playing with my bush, feeling the hairs. God, Ken, move lower! Don't toy with me. My body is expecting it. Ready for it. Oh, shit. Your touching the top of my pussy. Pressing into my clit. Thats it, rub it, move your hands, feel how wet you've made me. Have I made you hard? Open your eyes, check.

Elizabeth, look at the erection in his pants. He's raging hard for you, kneeling next to you as he nurses. Run your hand along his hip, feel his tight buns. Oh, slide lower, pushing into the hard outline of is pants. He is so hard. Because of you. He wants you. Let him have you.

The suckling on your breast has stopped. The toying of your pussy has slowed. Ken is leaning back, looking at your bush, pushing down the front of your underwear. Look at you in the mirror, spreading your legs, large bush proudly displayed between your legs. Your wet slit, pink and swollen. Nursing bra open with one tit hanging free, glistening.
"Elizabeth...this is so sexy..."

He isn't grossed out by it. Instead, it is so unique, so different than the young, bald pussies that he sees so often. It excites him, just like the newness of a lactating breast. He is pulling on your hairs gently, stretching them, marveling at them. Sliding down his face, smelling your must inside of the hairs. Tasting them. Licking them.

Lower Ken. Here, let me help you. The hairs on your head are so soft as I rub them, pushing you lower, trying to force your tongue to just the right...

"Oh....there..."

You found it Ken. My clit. My Betsy. The girl who has been looking for attention since she got here. The little lady who enjoyed looking at your ass, wanted you to look at hers, tried desperately to poke out of the yoga pants and let herself be kissed. Lick me, Ken. Oh, it feels so nice. So good. So new. So exciting.

Stopping? Already? Oh, please no. Don't. What are you doing, looking up at me, slipping my panties back over my bush. I'm just getting myself going, feeling your rhythm. Do you want me to hold myself open wider? Take off my panties? My bra? Anything. You can do anything to me. Just keep the feelings alive.

"Turn over..."

You want me to turn over? Oh, jesus, you want to lick me from behind. I don't do it like that. It's not how I cum. Not how I've ever cum. My bunnies don't get involved, don't make an appearance. How are you going to find Betsy? She'll be hidden. I don't want to turn over. I won't.

"Alright..."

Oh, fuck, if you want me to, I will. I'll try it, as long as you keep trying. Just roll over gently. Oh, wow, you can see your back and pantied ass in the mirror. Your bottom looks huge, bulging as you lie on your stomach. Which is why I never do it at home. At least, not with any lights on. And the one boob you didn't nurse from is firm, pressing into me, still full of milk. I don't like this position. How can I ever reach an orgasm?

"Here, let me tuck this under you..."

Tuck what? My eyes find you in the mirror, holding a large cylindrical pillow. I obediently raise my hips, my mind too focused on reaching an orgasm to question anything. I watch as my ass rises into the air and feel the pillow slide under my stomach. It's in place. Relax, let's see how this feels.

Christ, my ass is now over my head, bulging wide from the angle and pressure. My boobs are being crushed. Use your elbows, lift up. Look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is flushed, your hair is disheveled. Your eyes are a deep blue. Ken is now rubbing your back, looking at your face.

"You have such a beautiful body..."

His hands push into your shoulders, rubbing them hard. His hands slide under your bra strap, unable to release it with the clasp in the front. His fingers probe your muscles, trace your spine, swirl around your small back dimples. He is gripping my ribs, on the side of my body, squeezing me. He is so strong. Oh, look at the lust in his eyes.

"You're a goddess..."

Your eyes meet and lock as he moves lower, to your legs, squeezing your calves. The vulgarity of your position is now perfectly clear as you look into the mirror, staring at your ass high and the pale white thighs spread slightly below. Opening gently. Revealing a damp patch of fabric clinging to your pussy. It sure looks like Ken will be able to find Betsy after all.

Just close your eyes. Let him find it. Enjoy the fingers, pushing into the back of your thighs. Spreading your legs wider. Your ankles move, now about a foot apart. His thumbs are gripping the inside of your thighs, squeezing your thick muscles, massaging them deep. Feeling the tender flesh that has been touched by less than six men. And never with such obscenity and force.

Fingers are slipping under my panties, pushing into my bottom. God, he's getting close. My vagina is ready for another run. I'm in this position for a reason. God, would you fucking get to it. Rubbing the cheeks of my butt feels nice, feels so sexy, especially since it is so forbidden. But, come on!

Oh FUCK oh FUCK oh FUCK. Hands on the top of my waistband. Fingers curling. It feels like he's about to, yes, my god, it's happening. He's just lowering the top, pulling, exposing your crack. Pulling them over the curve of your bent ass, over the round flesh, well beyond halfway. Cool air is rushing over your cheeks. A tinge of fear hits me. Why the fuck am I letting him pull down my panties?

The confidence he must have to do this. The desire for me. The need to visualize what he imagines. He called me a goddess. Shit, you've exposed yourself to so many men who didn't deserve it. Your ex husband, for starters. The few boys in college when you were drunk off your ass. Doctors. Nurses. Here is a young, gorgeous, and in shape stud desperate to explore you. That's fucking why. Woman all over the world should be so lucky.

My god, but when did I last poop? Holy shit, please let my bunnies be clean. Where was I? Think! I was at Colleens, dropping off Emma. And, oh my god, she had that awful toilet paper -- I wonder if I have any stuck in my butt? If I could just go and make sure I'm clean, oh, lord. Just peak. Look

Holy shit, thank god, I can see my ass crack perfectly. Nothing. Nothing, that is, but the eye of my bunny hole, flaring open at me, surrounded by thick dark hair. Oh, fuck! I just instinctively squeezed it shut. It is now just a tight pucker. Ken is also looking at me, watching me stare at my own ass, at my own asshole breathing like a fish out of water.

But, thank god, no toilet paper. But...oh my god, I want to die. The hair around my anus has thin layers of poop, smeared into it. I want to just cry. To throw up. Forget about the birth canal, spread open, revealing the inside of your vagina. The wetness, clearly showing how excited I am. I could give a shit about anything but the shit!

"Elizabeth...you have the butt of a goddess..."

A goddess who can't wipe. I'm mortified. Oh, just close your eyes, pretend it is not there. Clearly, he could care less. He has the bottle of oil, squirting small amounts at the top of each butt check. You can feel it, cool, running slowly into your back. His hands are on the top of my butt now, pushing into the oil.

He's rubbing the oil into my globes. I feel my butt cheeks molding around his fingers, flexing as he pushes into my soft flesh with ease. Around the sides he rubs, towards the center, squeezing my butt cheeks together. And now, he's spreading me open, holding my bottom wide, looking at the flared pussy just above your panties. The panties your mother bought for you, hanging just below your butt cheeks. If she could see them now.

Maybe you were mistaken about the poop. Just peek again. Oh, fuck. He's looking at your face. Rubbing your ass, wanting you to see what he is doing. Why is he staring at me in the mirror? God, who the fuck cares. It's there. His hand hands are now at the bottom of my ass, pulling. Fingers are touching my pussy lips. We watch my birth canal open to the watching mirror.

"And your pussy...look at how sexy it is..."

My hole looks wide and deep. Ken is playing with me, touching the pink walls inside of me. Fuck, what did you think would happen when you got in this position? The sooner he explorers, the sooner he plays. Arch your back, excite him, get his juices flowing. You are the goddess. Move your legs slightly wider, help his peering eyes. Show him your wetness. Look at his eyes. Show him lust. Lick your lips. Maybe then, he'll lick yours.

"You can do anything you want..."

Oh, yea. Talk sexy. Let him know how much you want him to want you. Close your eyes, pout. Oh my god, more oil. It's dripping into my crack, slowly, like a finger. Moving towards the hard bone, finding it, and then turning. Oh, feel it! Sliding towards my poop hole. Past the ring of hair, failing to defend it. Into the crinkled skin, now puckering hard. Finding the center, pooling, stopping. Oh my god!

Ken's hand is at the top of my ass now. Tracing the path of the oil, sliding between my cheeks. You know where he is going, sensing the impending car crash but unable to stop it. Open your eyes. Watch. It is too surprisingly exciting to ignore, despite your abhorrence when your husbands try. It is too taboo. It's almost there. Past the hair. It's...

"Oh my god..."

Did you just say that out loud? Let him know how exciting and turned on I am? Having my butt hole massaged, rubbed, toyed with. There are so many nerves. Oh my god, it is so disgusting, feeling the hairs fold into my skin, the dried pieces of poop being swirled into my bottom. Which is exactly why I don't let my husbands do this. It is vulgar. It is degrading. And it feels so good.

He's pressuring it, greasing it. Holy shit, your eyes are bulging, wide open, looking at yourself in your deep blue eyes. His finger has entered your ass. The virginal hole is being fingered. Look at his middle finger, bending in and out of your bottom. Your anus is flexing open around it. You are holding your breath, longer, watching, shocked at the pleasure you are receiving. Exhale!

"Uuuuggghhhhhh......"

Oh, that was more of a grunt. A gurgle of pleasure. His hand is moving onto your stomach, pushing between it and the pillow. Raise your hips. Let him find his way, into your bush. Rubbing. Pressing into Betsy. Your vagina is being played with, ready for the rubbings. With the finger touching your poop hole, your bunny hole, your body is charged and ready.

"Oh...yea...there..."

He's found your spot, pushing hard. His mouth is now kissing your bottom, biting gently the inside fold. His mouth is now over your swollen lips, slipping between them, tasting the inside of your pussy. Fucking you. Push back, hard, into his face. Into the licking tongue, the rubbing fingers.

Spread your legs wider, he's trying to crawl between them. It's go time. His finger has slipped from your butt hole, and you can feel it gasping for air. Looking for the lost digit. Holy Shit! He has replaced it with his tongue, licking it, rolling the dirt into your bottom. Cleaning you. Tasting the must. Pushing his tongue into your dirty hole as he pinches your clit.

"Oooocchhh...."

A cry of pleasure. My orgasm is close. My first rimming is creating feelings I never thought I'd experience. I want to explode. Push hard into his mouth. He's chewing on my butt hole, using his teeth gently. Eating my ass. It's so gross, but so unexpected. Squeeze it shut hard. God, just move lower. Lick my pussy. Please. Just tell him. Let him know. Guide him. He will please you however you ask. You are a goddess.

"Lick....my pussy..."

Move your hands back, spread yourself open, show him the target. Make it stand proud. Uncover it from the mass of pubic hair. Provide a clear access. Just lean on your shoulders to prop yourself up. Help him help you. It's working. His face is moving. His tongue is rubbing, licking. It's...

"Oh...right there...hard..."

It's coming. You feel it. Deep inside of you. The licking of your clit is dragging it out of you. Oh, and his fingers, now gripping your ass on the inside, helping to keep your ass spread. Fingers are slipping towards the inside. Dragging the anal hairs around your bottom. The orgasm is coming.

"Ohhhh my Gaaawwwddddd..."

Ken has slid his finger deep into my anus! My asshole! Oh shit. I'm exploding. Stars. Dizziness. An internal anal massage, digging out the sexual feelings my body is longing to release. I'm humping his tongue hard, pushing into his probings. My muscles are convulsing. My legs squeezing together, crushing the body between them.

Further Ken is pushing into my bottom. My eyes flash open at the shocking feelings. I am now watching myself cum. Grimacing to the mirror in front of me. Nostrils flaring. Bucking my body to the young man behind me. There isn't anyone I'd rather cover with my vaginal juices. Beauty deserves beauty.

My orgasm, so strong, is slowly washing away. The taboo feelings of anal probings, from a person who's last name I don't even know, to whom I've muttered less than 100 words, is so erotic. More erotic than playing with myself while in the bath, or with my husband asleep next to me, or while breastfeeding. My body sags. I'm spent.

Ken senses that I'm done. His face is no longer buried between my legs and his finger is slowly removed from my rectum. It feels like I'm pooping him out. I can hear the slurping noises and then a final plop. Ken stands, looking down at me, the mom with her panties pulled down. The mom with her ass spread for the mirror. The mom with the swollen, wet, and matted pussy. The mom with her lactating breast exposed and crushed under her body.

I look in the mirror with post orgasmic shame. How did I end up allowing myself to be so abused. I have two kids, and if they came in and saw me now, they would be scarred for life. I reach behind me and lift up my panties, desperate to hide the hairy mess between my legs. Ashamed that I just allowed some man to lick my asshole clean. I told him he could do anything he wanted. He sure did. And I let it happen.

My heart drops as I see Ken in the mirror, lifting his shirt over his head. His erection is straining against his yoga pants. Fuck. He wants his turn. What the hell are you going to do now? Give him a blow job? Ask him to take care of it himself? Like you do your husbands? Shit, what the hell is he going to do now?

His pants are practically ripped off. There it is. His raging erection, but oh my lord, he's completely bald! No hair, anywhere. Not around his shaft, not on his stomach. His chest, his legs. Not even on his balls. He looks nubile. It's amazing. You have to touch it. To see if it is real. To see if it is as soft as it looks.

He must see the look in my eyes, the lust of a hormonal, middle age mom. Desperate to play with the boys penis in front of her. To inspect it, maybe even put some baby lotion on it. To diaper it. And I want to do all of that. Ken is going to let me, standing still, watching me kneel in front of him with my one tit swaying and exposed, the other covered.

It's so hard to my touch. It flinches, bobbing up and down. The veins are so clear beneath his stretched skin, pulsing blood to his throbbing member. His balls are so smooth. The inside of his thighs are so soft. His pee hole is staring at me as though it sees my sole and knows I want to suck it. Taste it. I do. I lean forward and open my mouth.

"Oh...Elizabeth..."

It's so warm, slipping easily into my mouth. My lips wrap around it, feeling the soft flesh push into my throat, sliding over my tongue. His heart is beating into my lips, through the walls of his erection. I don't use any of my hands, like I do with Frank, attempting to jerk him off with fingers and not my lips. But, for Ken, for his hairless penis, I let him enter as deep as he can, fondling his balls.

I know how to give a blow job when it counts. High school was a long way ago, asking Steve to stand up for my first attempt, braces making me proceed with caution. I guess it really didn't matter then how skillful I was. He sprayed all over my face in less than a minute. But, college guys and men need more work. More attention. My tongue is providing it.

"Shit...Elizabeth...by the mirror..."

Ken must like the visuals, as I guess all guys do. I can let him watch. I can let him observe how much I know. He gave me a killer orgasm. I can do the same, better than any teen bitch he may have been with. Show him that mom's give good head, better head. Look at you in the mirror, swirling your tongue around the tip. Letting him slip inside of you. Maybe you'll even open your mouth and let him jerk off into it.

Do it for him. Jerk it. Look at your tongue, hanging out, begging him to cum on it. I bet this look will turn him on. How long do you think it will take him? God, your husbands some times are fucking you for thirty minutes. You can spend thirty minutes doing this. Talk to him. Help him get off.

"Cum on my face..."

Jerk him harder. Maybe if you grab the oil. Let's just see. His dick is so hard, he has to be ready. Look at his face, see how close he looks. Christ, he doesn't look close at all. He's just sitting there, watching you, pointing his dick at your open mouth as you jerk it in front of the mirror. He isn't anywhere close.

"Suck my balls..."

Maybe that will help. The skin is so soft compared to what you are used to. You can feel the large eggs rolling into your mouth, hard, full of semen. You look like a squirrel in the mirror with a penis about to poke your eye out. Ken is tilting your face so you are looking at your mouthful. God, this is not the look you were hoping for when you dressed this morning.

Thank god, he's backing away. My mouth just made a loud popping sound as he slipped free. Jesus, how are you going to make him cum. His penis is wet all over, glistening from your work. My pussy is an option, I suppose. I can live with it. Frank will never know. I am not going to suck him for the rest of my life. Shit, just let him do it. He'd be the hottest guy you've ever had sex with. You deserve it.

"Do you want to have sex...?"

Who is he, your husband? Did you just put the kids to bed? Is this that special event that occurs one a month some times? Yoga teachers don't have sex. Young co-eds don't have sex. They fuck.

"On the mat..."

I guess that is a yes. I guess you are going to do it. So, give him something to remember. Make it a fuck worth of a goddess. Squeeze your vagina. Get it tight. Try to hide the fact that two kids have passed through it. And make the angles work for you. Give him a view of your hot, goddess ass. You may not do it for your husbands, but for this guy, bend over in front of him.

"Face the mirror..."

The mirror. It's all about the mirror. So, give him double the pleasure. Put the yoga pillow right under your hip, make your butt the focus. Take your fucking bra off, it's killing you. God, my tits, they are hot. So fucking hot. And, look at the one that hasn't been touched yet. It's swollen. You look so good. Get ready Ken, I'm not going to let you have sex with me, I'm going to let you fuck me.

He's bending behind me. Spread your legs, give him room. He's rubbing himself, keeping himself hard for your pussy. His eyes are locked on your pantied butt, swelling up to him. Asking him to fuck it. Bending over for it. He's reaching for it. You want him to pull down your panties. You want him to violate you.

He grabs. But not the top. The side. He's pulling hard, stretching them, dragging them to the side. Exposing you. His eyes are wild. His hand is pumping on his penis, masturbating to the scene before him. You are so beautiful, he doesn't need anything other than the ability to look at you. Maybe he won't even penetrate you. Spread your legs, give his semen a wide landing strip. Push open your asshole. Turn him on.

"Oooooooooocccccchhhhh."

Ken just rammed your wet pussy. His dick is slamming into your cervix. You are so wet, so stretched from years of use that he found no resistance. Oh my god, he's fucking me. Hard and sudden. My ass cheeks are being rammed by his hips as he leans into me, pulling back my head with hands thrown under my chin. He's bending me back, like the cobra position.

Arch your chest high. Show him your nursing tits, in the mirror. That's what he wants. A woman with milk. With swollen tits and nipples larger than he's seen before, each with motherly erections that spray milk. Let him cup them, move his hands into them, almost lifting you by them. Fight the soreness from your engorgement. Look at yourself in the mirror, being fucked. Thrusting your body every second to his bucking hips.

He has both hands on the breast he didn't nurse from. Squeezing it. Masturbating it. You know it will happen. His body is slowing the thrusting, waiting for it. You feel his hardness pulsing in your vagina as the first stream releases from your breast, spraying the mirror. He points your areola right at the glass, spraying it. Releasing your semen.
Oh, shit. The semen. He cannot come in you. You can't get pregnant. How stupid to not even think about protection. You can sense he is swelling inside of you as he enjoys molesting your tit. Maybe he can finish by jerking off on your bottom. Oh, god, but how can you stop him, his hands on your lactating breasts. It would take the jaws of life to release any man from a milk laden boob.

Bend yourself forward, forcing him to release your tit. But now what. He's merely picked up his pace, moving his fingers into your mouth, pulling your lips, exposing your teeth. Forcing an obscene smile. You have to tell him. Now. To come on your bottom. Your butt. Your ass. Say it!

"Cummm enn myyy asss....."

Lift your butt, show him the target. Oh, thank god. He got the message. His penis is sliding out. Your watching him, in the mirror, jerk himself. He must be close. Position your bottom, be ready for the spray. Give him a sexy look, like you enjoy watching him play with himself. That he can look at your ass. Put your hands on your butt. Hold it open. Push out your asshole. Fucking turn this yoga stud on and slip your own finger in your butt.

God. He must be ready. He's leaning into your butt cheeks, pressing his penis. Move your hand. Let him cum. His tip is touching your poop hole. Pushing into it. You wait for the semen, feeling his hand jerking into your butt. Your eyes are locked on your own, so proud of the man you have landed with your beauty. And you feel it.

A massive force has thrust itself into your rectum! The oil. The hardness! The force, splitting you open, like a giant poop. Ken has taken your anal virginity, desperate for his own need to cum, looking for the tightest hole you have to offer. Oh...fuck...Elizabeth... You are getting fucked up the ass!

"Oooowwww......"

You can't help but scream in shock at the sudden invasion. You watch your face distort at the incredible violation, the opening of your bowels. Ken holds you tight, bottoming out in one push, letting his penis absorb the warmth and slick walls of your bowels, squeezing him tight.

"It's so fucking tight Elizabeth..."

He is pushing down your shoulders, forcing you into the mat. Ken has found a target and position he is ready to cum to. You told him to cum on your ass, and he took it as an invitation to cum in your ass. The sodomy has started. You feel like you should yell, but you don't. You feel like you should push him out, but you don't. Just bend over and take it. You wanted this young stud, and if you were ever going to lose your anal virginity, it might as well be to him. Another push into my bowels. I can't help my reaction.

"Eeewwww....."

Thank god for the oil. You are simply a tight hole for him to slip in and out of. His pace is sympathetically slow, so you can thank him for that later if you want. Now, just look through the slit in your eyes and try to see when he is about to cum. The initial penetration has been complete, and now, you are left with an odd tingling sensation around your anus.

"I'm fucking my goddess up her ass..."

He's talking to himself. His reflection. Ken keeps staring at himself in the mirror, sometimes pausing, lifting his hips, trying to show the anal penetration to himself. He must like the show he puts on. That I am putting on. That my ass is putting on. Oh my god, he's slipped it out, maybe he's done. My butt hole seems wide open, air slipping into my rectum. Thank...ohmygod. He's slipped it in again.

"Her name is Elizabeth..."

His pace is starting to pick up. The pace of a man who feels he is about to cum. His erection is growing inside of me. I sense the imminent release. My body braces for it. I'll let him cum in my bottom. I can't get pregnant from this. Say something. Don't just be a dead fuck.

"Do it...in my bunny hole..."

Oh, shit. Is that the best dirty talk you can come up with? Fuck, it doesn't matter. Ken has mercifully ended your first anal encounter. He has slipped out with a loud slurping noise, grabbed his penis, and moved his butt onto your ass. He is jerking himself to completion. Fuck, I want to watch this.

"I'm cumming...your tits..."

I quickly roll over. I watch the man on the verge of orgasm wildly stroke himself, lean his body forward. He knows the feelings inside of himself and how to best release them. And he wants a visual aid. So thank him for not cumming in your ass and put your hands back, stretch out your tits, and give him the target.

"Oh...god..."

His penis sprays a stream of white syrup on your milk laden breast. Fuck, and your holding it for him, aligning your nipple with his ejaculating head. Another stream, jerking his body, splattering your dark areola. God, why couldn't he just skip your ass and do this. His body is settling down from the violent eruption. Oh, look at the fluids still seeping out of his pee hole. You got that out of him.

"Oh, jesus Elizabeth...that was so fucking good..."

He is looking at you. Look back. Be sexy. Say something.

"I don't think I every came so hard..."

Ken grabs his shirt and wipes the semen on your chest, cleaning you with tender care. The guys you've been with before, especially your first husband, left that job to you. Despite the pulsing of my asshole, recovering from losing it's virginity, I loved every minute of the experience. Body and mind. Just lay back, relax, and enjoy the warm cuddles from the young man beside you. The man snuggling next to you. Feel young and alive again in his arms.

"Elizabeth...I don't think I have either. Your butt looks soooo good."

Oh my god, if anyone knows, he does. I think he got a better look at my ass than anyone I've ever known, including myself. He makes me feel so happy about myself.

"Do you really think I have a good butt?"

Ken looks at me and smiles.

"It's the butt of a goddess."

...

I stared at the screen for some time, processing what I just watched. I felt slightly bad for Beth, knowing that she had to reinforce some pitiful self-esteem in the manner that she did. Letting herself be violated, molested, and abused.

People talk about the nurturing and care teenage girls take, that the confidence they walk around with is fragile and often just a projection. That inside, they are insecure and bound to make bad decisions because of it. After what I just watched, you could say that for a woman of any age.

As I pondered the plight of women, my phone rang. I looked at saw it was Beth, paused, and then decided to answer the call.

"Hello?"

I knew exactly who it was, but feigned surprise. And I was surprised as Beth spoke, calm and cool.

"Yes, hi Peter, it's me, Elizabeth. Can you talk?"

Wow. She seemed to be completely un-mad. Almost like she was calling to discuss one of our rare co-parenting, let's solve it together type of issues.

"Yea, I'm free."

Beth began to ramble.

"So, I'm not mad. Really. I'm not. I think it's sick and...well, I'm not mad, and so, I wanted you to know that. You had your fun, and I guess I don't really get it...but, well, whatever. I just need to, well...I can't...I need to ask you a favor and not say anything about it...you know, about Ken and me...and, well, what we did together...please, I can't have Frank..."

Beth's anger had turned to fear. Fear of being removed from the pleasant life she had. The least I could do after this morning was to reassure her.

"I won't, Beth, I promise..."

Beth sighed, slightly relieved.

"Thanks. Really, I mean it. I'd ask for the tape, but then, you'd probably just make a copy...so I'm asking, please, to just not do anything with it...keep it for yourself, fine, whatever. But don't let Ken have it, or anyone else. Please, it would be so embarrassing...for Tom especially."

I hadn't thought about that.

"Of course, I absolutely will not."

Beth was silent. Her pleas had been listen to and accepted. There was nothing more, but she kept on the line. I waited. Eventually she spoke.

"Peter, why did you do it...why?"

I had no reason, actually, that I could easily explain to myself. The desire, the revenge, her beauty, the animalistic need. It was all mixed together in one reason. I gave her the best one I could.

"Really, I'm not sure. I guess, well, for the same reasons that you had for Ken, in some way."

Processing the answer in her mind, Beth thought about it for a few seconds and then spoke.

"Well, yoga's not happening again, I can tell you that."

Beth was ready to wind up the conversation. I figured I could end it with the best, friendly response I could come up with.

"Beth, really, you don't need yoga or anything else. Your body looks great as it is. Believe me, woman would kill for your butt."

Another pause as Beth let the compliment sink in and possibly resurrect a shattered confidence, knowing that her time with Ken had come to an abrupt halt.

"Do you really think my butt looks good?"