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Hot Yoga

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 15 Dec 2002 0 comments
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Hot Yoga by TrueNorthPA (TrueNorthPA@hotmail.com)The time spent running and weight lifting had paid off well. My 6'2", 185 lb. frame was lean and well-defined. Best of all, at 34, I had moved into a physical maintenance mode at the gym, which let me cut back to three workouts a week. But for all the strength I had built and endurance I had developed, I lacked flexibility.My suburban Philadelphia gym did not offer too many alternatives to aerobics and spinning classes. I checked the schedule: a Pilates class on Tuesdays at dinner time; a "Hot Yoga" class on Sunday mornings. I snickered at "Hot Yoga," wondering if this was either suburban glamorization of a bend-and-twist exercise class or a double entendre. I was hoping for the latter.The next Sunday, I showed up at the gym early enough for a warm up. I jumped on an elliptical trainer, and clocked 5 miles in 30 minutes. When I finished, my heart was pounding, my well-worn and beloved college tee was sweat stained, and my nylon running shorts clung to my butt. Of course, I didn't think to bring a change of clothes for the more relaxed atmosphere of the yoga class.After toweling myself as dry as possible, I went to the classroom. On opening the door, I was struck by a blast of stinging heat. "Hot Yoga" meant "hot" room. A thermometer near the door registered 95 degrees. It felt like an Illinois cornfield on a sun-baked August afternoon. I scanned the room, and realized that I was surrounded by 20-or-so women. Had I been straight I would have had my pick of the lot.I unrolled my thin foam rubber mat and removed my shoes and socks, following the example of my classmates. A blast of frigid air whooshed in from the air-conditioned hall, as the instructor opened the classroom door. There stood Paul. At 6 feet, he was jaw-dropping handsome, with chocolate brown eyes. His baggy tee shirt sloped off his well-formed pecs. His baggy shorts hung mid thigh.Paul was sinfully good-looking. "Straight, of course," I thought to myself. His shaved head sprouted a two-or-three day stubble, but his face was freshly shaved and perfectly smooth. He scanned the room. His thick lips partly slightly with his dazzling smile. He could have been a poster boy for dental hygiene.Paul made a few introductions. I was the "new guy," and introduced myself. Paul started a tape of ethereal Indian music. It was a welcome change from the blasting classic rock of the weight room. The room quieted instantly.Paul clapped his hands, and said "Asana 1: Stand in Mountain Pose." Asanas, I took it, meant a yoga position.Paul led the class, as we folded over at the waist placing our palms on the floor. I snuck a peak around the room, seeing 1 male and 20 female butts saluting the sky. Paul's shorts hugged his tight ass. There was no evidence of underwear or a jock."Asana 2: Lunge!" We all extended our right legs backwards. Paul's shorts inched higher on his muscular quads."Asana 3: Plank!" The class fluidly extended left legs backwards to assume a marine push-up position.I got the hang of it all mostly by watching. Paul emphasized grace and agility. The class felt more like a sensual dance rather a workout, despite the heat. We were all sweat-soaked. Naturally, Paul's and my looser fitting clothes began to stick to us, in all the right places. From my mat, I occasionally got a shadowed view up his muscled inner thighs. I wanted to see more.So it went for an hour. Torrid heat, and bending and flexing through "Thunder Bolt," "Upward Facing Dog," and "Warrior" poses. I was amused by the suggestive names of most poses and made of a few of my own as we went along: "Cupping Crotch," "Nipple Salute," and "Ass Asana."Near the end of the class, we all took the "Corpse" position, laying on our backs in a semi-meditative state. The pause was wonderful. My mind was quiet. My eyes were closed. I was jolted into a more alert state when someone - Paul - grabbed my shoulders and gently lifted them into a more comfortable position. He held my head, and gently repositioned it, twisting it slightly. I felt thoroughly stretched like never before. The burn had been amazing. But the total atmosphere and experience was thoroughly relaxing.I was semi-conscious with eyes half open when I heard Paul thanking the class for attendance and wishing us well. He stood just behind me. His voice was sincere and soothing. I opened my eyes and looked up. I was treated with a perfect view up Paul's loose-fitting shorts. His gorgeous uncut cock hung down, pointing at me. Paul's got it all, I thought, and I wish I could get some.I took my time standing up and putting away my gear. Right now, a long warm shower sounded great to me. As I walked towards the door, I looked back to see handsome Paul surrounded by his female admirers. I had to think "Straight" again. Paul caught my look, and winked at me. That was unexpected. Maybe there was a reason why he stood over me while I was in the Corpse position. Or was this wishful thinking?The gym's locker room is always uncrowded. In suburbia, most guys hop in their cars and shower at home. The very few that do use the gym's locker room tend to hide their "equipment" behind their towels, going in and out of the large shower stalls. (There's even one guy who wears his underwear into the stalls. What's up with that?) Me? I strip down and wander around like it's Saturday night at a gay bath.I turned on the water in my favorite "private" stall, the furthest from the lockers, and stepped in. The translucent, glass gave you only an idea of who was in booth, but you always got a good idea of the shape and form, and the shower doors were just low enough that you could see the head of the stall occupant."My stall" gave me maximum privacy, another reason why I liked it. The steam coiled around me, and loosened every muscle further. I began to lather up with my shower gel, massaging my pecs and my crotch. It felt great. Today would be a great day for that. I was "inspired" by Paul. I was transfixed by the memory of him standing over meAs I lathered my 7 inches, I used my other hand to tug my ball sac, "my boys," as I called them. As I stroked away, I was almost oblivious to the sound of another person in the locker room. I was startled. I assumed that it was Tom, the gym manager, walking through the tiled area to do another load of towels. (I had always wanted to get caught by Tom, another suburban stud.)Someone shouted, "Hey." I was busted! I yelled back. "Hey, what?""You're in my stall, buddy." came the joking retort. It was Paul. Damn, I wanted to see him nude. And, I wanted to take care of my business.Jeez. No privacy. My perfect "Hot Yoga" orgasm was doomed. Or so I thought.I heard the water being turned on the in adjoining stall. The voice - yes it was Paul's - shot out, "So did you enjoy 'Hot Yoga'?""Sure, " I said. Sure, until now, with my cock going limp. I thought: finish the shower, towel off, grab a blurry look at Paul. I can take care of business when I get home.I finished my shower, grabbed my towel, and began drying off in the tiled common area. I glanced over at Paul's shower stall. He flashed me another smile over the shower door. His hunky form was silhouetted through the glass. I did a double take. I was sure he was lathering his cock, just as I had been.This was going to be a challenge, but Paul made it easier for me. He continued to talk from his stall. "So, what'd you think?" His voice sounded slightly strained. "I can't hear you," he yelled. So I edged closer to his stall. Paul looked directly at me. His butt was pressing against the shower door. A wet fuzzy butt cheek was plastered against the glass, as well as a thick bicep.Paul cracked the door open. He did not even try to hide his pulsing meat, a fat 6 inches of uncut cock and equally fat, hairy balls.We both smiled when I said, "Hot. I said it was hot."With a nod and a wink, he signaled me to join him. I guess my own growing hard-on was a clue to my very eager willingness to join him.I slipped into the stall, pulled the door shut. As I did, Paul pulled at my tits while thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I reached down and grabbed his cock. Both of us leaked precum - rivers of it - lubing our cocks. I grabbed our two cocks and began a slow, methodical jacking motion. The slick sex fluid coated both cocks, and his foreskin rolled back and then up onto my cock head. I love docking with uncut guys, feeling their foreskins enveloping the head of my cock.While Paul worked my nips and we kissed, I reached around and soaped his crack. His ass cheeks were steel-solid, clenching my probing finger. With each twist of my tits, I leaked more precum onto his cock. I almost shot onto his bush and balls.Paul saved the moment. He turned in the stall and pushed his ass into my cock. Lubed with soap, he pushed deep onto my tool and began doing pushups against the wall, fucking himself on me. I moved my hands around his chest and squeezed his pecs. I changed to flicking his nips with my fingers and lightly bit at his neck. He thrust harder onto my cock, pinning me against the wall. He pumped and pumped on my cock, and he stroked his own.I heard his breathing stop with a gasp. His body began to convulse with orgasm. This triggered the same response in me. I pulled out and sprayed his ass with my sperm. The steam in the shower enveloped us. Our own heat, mixed with the steam, exceeded the heat in the yoga room.Paul slumped back. We both regained some sense of consciousness.I said, "You were asking what I thought about 'Hot Yoga'?""Ah, yeah," he replied."I need more exposure and practice. One thing I know. I am feeling a lot more flexible."