Pool of Heat

“You’re holding your breath again, Mira.”

Her voice cut through the humid air of the massage studio, low and teasing. I was face-down on the mat, my forehead pressed into the cool vinyl, and I could feel the heat of her gaze on my spine like a second sun. The room smelled of eucalyptus and sweat, and the soft hum of the ceiling fan did nothing to cool the prickle of my skin.

I lifted my head, met her dark eyes in the mirror propped against the wall. Lena, my yoga teacher, was kneeling beside me, her own mat rolled up under her arm. She was wearing a loose tank top that hung off one shoulder, and the thin strap of her sports bra was visible, a flash of pale blue against her tanned skin.

“I’m not,” I said, but my voice came out breathier than I meant.

“You are.” She smiled, slow and knowing. “Your chest is tight. Your shoulders are up by your ears. You’re thinking too much.”

I wanted to say that thinking about her was the problem. That every time she adjusted my hip or pressed her palm into the small of my back, my mind went blank and my body went hot. That the only thing I could think about was the way her fingers would feel inside me, the way her mouth would taste on mine.

Instead, I just said, “Maybe you should fix that.”

Her smile widened. “Maybe I should.”

She moved behind me, her knees brushing my ribs as she straddled the mat. Her hands found my shoulders, thumbs digging into the knots at the base of my neck. I groaned, low and involuntary, and she laughed softly.

“See? You’re all tense.”

“That’s your fault.”

“Is it?” Her fingers slid down my spine, tracing each vertebra. “What are you thinking about, Mira?”

“You know what.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

I rolled over, suddenly, catching her off guard. She was straddling me now, her thighs on either side of my hips, and I could feel the warmth of her through the thin cotton of her shorts. Her eyes went wide for a second, then dark.

“I’m thinking about how badly I want to fuck you,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Right here. On this mat.”

She didn’t answer. She just leaned down and kissed me.

The kiss was hungry, messy. Her tongue slid against mine, and I tasted mint and salt and something else, something warm and female. My hands found her waist, then slid up under her tank top, feeling the smooth skin of her stomach, the curve of her ribs. She shivered against me.

“Lena,” I breathed against her mouth.

“Shut up,” she said, and kissed me again.

She sat up, pulling her tank top over her head. Her breasts were bare, full, her nipples dark and hard. I reached up and cupped them, thumbs brushing over the tips, and she moaned, arching into my hands.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

“I want you in my mouth.”

She didn’t hesitate. She shifted, moving up my body, and I felt the heat of her pussy against my lips. She was already wet, her scent musky and sweet. I parted her folds with my tongue, tasting her, and she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair.

“God, yes. Just like that.”

I licked her slowly, savoring her, then faster, focusing on her clit. She rocked against my face, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her thighs trembled on either side of my head.

“I’m close,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, and she came with a sharp cry, her body shuddering above me. I lapped at her until she pushed me away, breathing hard.

“Your turn.”

She crawled down my body, her hands on my thighs, spreading them. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes dark and hungry, then lowered her head. Her tongue found my clit, and I bucked against her mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Lena.”

She laughed, low and wicked, and slid two fingers inside me. I was so wet I could feel them glide in, and I moaned, my head falling back. She fucked me with her fingers, her tongue still on my clit, and I felt the pressure building, coiling low in my belly.

“I’m going to come,” I gasped.

“Do it,” she said, her voice muffled against my skin.

I did. My orgasm ripped through me, hot and blinding, and I cried out, my hips thrusting against her hand. She didn’t stop, working me through it until I was limp and trembling.

She pulled her fingers out, brought them to her mouth, and licked them clean. I watched her, my heart pounding.

“That was—” I started.

“Not done yet,” she said.

She straddled me again, but this time she positioned herself over my face, her pussy slick and glistening. She leaned forward, taking my cock into her mouth—wait, no. That’s wrong. I’m a woman.

I pushed her off me, laughing, and she laughed too, a bright, surprised sound.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m not done with you,” I said, and I rolled her onto her back.

I climbed on top of her, my thighs straddling hers. I could feel the heat of her pussy against my own, and I ground against her, our clits sliding together. She gasped, her hands gripping my hips.

“Oh, God, that feels—yes, right there.”

I moved against her, slow at first, then faster, our bodies slick with sweat. The friction was incredible, the pressure building with every stroke. She was moaning, her head thrown back, her tits bouncing with the movement.

“I’m going to come again,” she said, her voice strained.

“Come with me.”

I leaned down and kissed her, our tongues tangling as we ground against each other. The tension built, higher and higher, until it snapped. We came together, our bodies shuddering, our cries muffled by each other’s mouths.

When it was over, we lay there, tangled and sweaty, the ceiling fan spinning overhead. She laughed, a soft, breathless sound.

“I think that was the best yoga class I’ve ever taught.”

I laughed too, pressing my forehead against hers. “I think I need a shower.”

“There’s one in the back.”

I looked at her. “Want to join me?”

She grinned, already reaching for my hand.

CATEGORIES: [Pool, Yoga, Lesbians, Fingering, Pussy licking]