The Yoga Lesson
Leggings.
Some people call the leggings that cling to every inch of a woman's lower body the crowning achievement of modern science. A masterpiece of human-engineered clothing that first spread through Europe in the early 2000s and has since become ubiquitous. Today, I was witnessing that crowning achievement of modern science right here in this room.
Her mound swelled so plump it was nearly bursting, and carved into it was a perfectly defined axe-shaped cleft. Maybe it was because the leggings happened to be gray. The vivid outline glistened as if it had drunk in moisture, flaunting a silhouette even more obscene than it had any right to be.
For a fleeting second, a filthy image flashed through my mind — that cleft of hers growing wet and dark.
Focus.
I nearly lost control of my eyes again. I never thought I'd see a real camel toe in the flesh — the kind I'd only ever gawked at in community screenshots. So that was how a woman's sex printed through fabric.
For a moment I wanted to cup that swollen mound in my palm. I pictured Seongdae's mom moaning as I slowly rolled my hand over it. I had no choice but to tear my gaze away, swallowing the urge to stare a hole straight through her.
Scattered across the floor were various pieces of exercise equipment she seemed to have just finished using. The yoga, apparently, was her cooldown — the final stretch. I found myself wanting to watch her entire workout from start to finish.
On the screen, a yoga instructor who looked to be in her twenties was demonstrating the stretches. She had a typical slender build, and her body was pretty enough. Compared to Seongdae's mom, though, she looked like a middle schooler.
The line of Seongdae's mom's back — so curved it went past voluptuous and into something downright sultry — trembled with a breathless, stifling allure. She began preparing for her cooldown in earnest. The leggings gripped her lower body as if it might explode out of them at any second.
This spot, where I could drink in the view of Seongdae's mom from behind, was a blessed seat. I wanted to make up for my earlier slip — that failure to manage my eyes. I would burn every inch of her ripened backside into my memory. And I would do it naturally...
Seongdae's mom sat down and folded forward at the waist. Slowly, so slowly, she bent until her torso nearly touched her knees.
"Hah..."
A heated sigh slipped from her lips.
The leggings that had been clamping down on her explosive lower body began to lose their grip along the waistline. Even leggings would struggle to contain an ass that swollen, that ready to burst. At that size, the word "butt" didn't cut it. "Ass" came closer. Hell, those cheeks barely fit in the category at all.
I wanted to see her ass even closer. Still sitting on the sofa, I craned my neck further.
Closer... hahh... closer.
The bolder her pose became, the more her pale ass cleft began to peek and twitch into view.
Hhk.
I couldn't help but hold my breath.
As Seongdae's mom bent at the waist, the leggings riding her ass slipped down just enough for me to make out the waistband of her panties. What if that cleft of hers were to show even more? Had I ever wanted superpowers this badly in my life?
This was a moment that demanded absolute concentration.
Just a little more... just a little more!
Yoga Fire!
No — yoga teacher. If you give me this chance, I'll take up yoga myself. I'll contribute to the advancement of the art! Please, just a little more!
The instant Seongdae's mom's fingertips touched her toes, the leggings peeled completely away from the cleft of her ass. Her springy, overflowing cheeks lifted into view, bare.
It lasted only a second.
A thong...?
It was unmistakably a black thong. The upper portion wrapping her ass gave way to a string, and that black string was buried deep in the generous cleft between her cheeks.
It was intoxicating.
The moment was too brief to see anything vital, but it was more than enough to confirm the depth of that valley. I'd heard that women wore thongs under leggings so the panty line wouldn't show... but to actually witness that rare spectacle here, in the flesh. This one instant made up for every rotten thing that had happened today.
I wanted it.
I wanted the panties she wore — no, the panties she was wearing right now. That was what possessiveness was: the hunger to own something you could never have. And it was a terrifying thing. I started picturing what I would need to do before I left this house today.
Seongdae's mom continued her routine, utterly unbothered that her panties were showing. She rolled her neck in slow circles, flowing from one stretch into the next. Watching her follow the instructor's movements so smoothly, it was obvious this wasn't her first or second time.
I was sending telepathic signals to a yoga teacher whose name I didn't even know, begging for a more provocative pose. That wasn't enough of a stretch. What if she told her to take the top off? If that happened, I would subscribe to her channel and smash the like button.
Seongdae's mom planted one leg forward and pushed her ass out, settling into the pose. The outline of that jutting rear grew even more pronounced. In a position like that, you could spread her open and bury a stiff cock in her without the slightest problem.
The reins on my imagination had snapped, and the images were only growing thicker.
Seongdae's mom slowly began tipping her head back. Her torso and waist arched backward. Her eyes were closed, as if she were concentrating entirely on her own body. I was freely drinking in the line of her back when I flinched.
"Ah..."
A shallow moan slipped from Seongdae's mom's lips.
Yeah — a pose that arched the waist that far back would draw a sound like that. That kind of flexibility at her age. Yoga really was a hell of an exercise...
Hhk.
A thick gasp nearly burst from my own mouth.
As Seongdae's mom's upper body arched back, a gap opened between her bra top and the valley of her chest. Her pale breasts, barely contained by the gray sports bra, looked ready to spill downward at any second.
The tip of my cock, already as hard as it could get, was beading with wetness. Sitting there with the outline of it straining against my school uniform pants was anything but comfortable. I grabbed a cushion from beside me and quickly dropped it over my lap. It probably looked pretty awkward.
I gazed at the exquisite curves of Seongdae's mom, her eyes still closed. No — the truth was, my gaze was locked on one place. A pair of breasts that looked ready to spill from the sports bra at any moment, hovering on the edge of pouring free.
And that skin. Flawless, gleaming white, without a single blemish, and the smooth line of her shoulders. Her hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, swayed above that shoulder line.
Her face suited words like "demure" and "refined." She had an aura all her own, the kind you saw on those stunning married actresses in morning soap operas. I wondered if she might have done some acting herself. With looks like hers, it was a reasonable guess.
I suddenly found myself curious about Seongdae's mom's past. If I ever got the chance, I wanted to look into it — especially the men.
She shifted her stance, spreading both legs, and a faint flush had risen in her face. Beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead traced slowly down along the fine hairs of her skin. As she regulated her breathing, her lips parted and closed, parted and closed. I wanted to hear that warm, sweet sound of her breath up close.
Maybe she felt my relentless stare. Her eyes opened, and a few seconds of silence hung in the air.
Our gazes collided in the empty space between us.
I was her son's friend, but to her I was still a male. She was the one who had to wear skin-tight clothes and hold all kinds of positions — no, all kinds of poses. Wasn't she trembling, just a little?
"Your form is incredible."
"Is it? It's a little embarrassing, knowing you're watching from back there..."
So she had been aware of me after all. The thought that she saw me not as her son's friend but as a man put a smile in my chest.
"It's really something. Watching you do it makes me want to learn too."
"Really? Well, students who study a lot do need to stretch..."
An opening. The second I spotted a gap, I would drive into it.
"Could you teach me, ma'am?"
I cast the bait. She looked momentarily flustered.
"Mm... I don't think I'm skilled enough for that..."
"I need to start from the basics. And the basics are hard to pick up from a video, you know."
I had to hang on and not let go. Chances like this didn't come easy.
"Still..."
I would slip into the crack of her hesitation.
"Being home alone, I really need things to fill the time. The nights get so lonely..."
The finishing move. The one privilege a young head of household could claim. I hoped the most pitiful expression I could muster would hook her maternal instinct.
"Mm... well then... I'll teach you the basics, at least..."
She took the bait.
A woman's maternal instinct really was a magnificent thing. Someday, I would love her in every corner of her body, just as much as she was offering me her affection now.
"Wow, thank you! This is going to be fun."
"Don't get your hopes up too high, though. I'm not that good at it myself."
"You're already so sex— I mean, so incredible. I'll study hard."
The truth had nearly tumbled out of my reckless mouth, but I wasn't about to blow a sure thing.
She watched me light up like a kid and smiled, soft and sweet. The flush blooming across her face was unbearably sexy.
"Can you wait just a minute? I'm going to go change."
Huh? What was that supposed to mean?
I wanted to keep looking at those sultry curves. Wasn't there some way?
"Ma'am, could we have that talk you mentioned now? I need to head upstairs."
"Ah, is that so? Then we'd better talk quickly so you can go up."
She stopped mid-step toward the master bedroom and sat down at the dining table across from me.
Whew.
What a sense for timing. I got to keep admiring those swaying breasts and the pale valley between them. This was more stimulating than watching porn on a 4K television. I decided to savor the moment, drinking in the way her breasts fell from the line of her shoulders.
"Mm... the reason I called you over, Dongho..."
The reason she'd called me was, of course, Seongdae.
The moment his name passed between us, my interest evaporated. If it had just been the two of us, we could have become real friends...
No. It was precisely because Seongdae existed that a situation like this existed at all. I decided to use him for everything he was worth.
According to her, Seongdae had been coming home late lately. For a mother whose son didn't walk through the door until ten at night, the worry was only natural. On top of that, he'd started putting his hands on her wallet. She was afraid he might be getting bullied somewhere he shouldn't be.
Bullied?
I snorted inwardly. We'd be lucky if that bastard wasn't the one shaking his friends down for money. The reason Seongdae was coming home late was almost certainly his girlfriend, Heo Suyeon. At some point he'd started sticking to Suyeon, and seeing his face had become a rare event. He'd fallen for her looks, no question.
"Ma'am... can you keep what I'm about to say a secret?"
"Of course! It'll stay just between us. Can you tell me?"
The word "secret" brought a faint flush to her refined face. Talking about her own son — of course she was dying to know. Naturally, I wasn't going to just spit it out.
"Then would you come a little closer? I'd like to tell you this up close."
When she leaned her head in toward me, the top covering her breasts pulled apart. A pale breast, half spilled from the fabric, swelled and trembled right before my eyes.