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“Hey, Javi,” Stephanie said, popping her head around my office door.
“Hey, Steph, what’s up?” I answered, looking up from my computer screen where I’d been reviewing the last five years worth of multicultural research published in Communications Quarterly.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Just going to grab some lunch at the Union.
Want some?” “Sure,” I replied, hitting ‘save’ on my work.
“I’m starving.
” Stephanie and I were colleagues at Clinton State University.
We’d both been hired at the same time a couple of years ago.
Both of us had been fresh graduates, and so we were kind of ‘growing up’ as academics, learning about faculty culture together.
Suddenly all the departmental politics and administrative bullshit we’d been shielded from as grad students was totally important to stay on top of.
In the face of it all, we formed a fast bond – the new kids on the block against the old guard of mostly male, mostly tenured, and all white professors.
Stephanie was twenty-eight, and I’d just turned thirty.
She’s half-black, I’m fully Hispanic, but we’d both grown up in relatively affluent and predominantly white suburban neighbourhoods.
We shared stories of our privileges and struggles – discrimination from all sides.
We’d been called the usual slurs by white people, while the minority communities we supposedly belonged to labeled us as ‘Coconut’ and ‘Oreo’ (brown or black on the outside, white on the inside).
We’d been ostracized and exoticized and tokenized, and out of all that (or outside of it), we’d had to forge our own identities.
After spending much of my life feeling like an outsider from every culture, I was stunned by how much Stephanie and I were on the same page about things.
Both of us focused our research on social justice in higher education.
It was a hot topic in our field if not particularly valued by our senior colleagues at Clinton State University.
It seemed natural that we’d hit it off almost instantly.
Apart from that, it hadn’t escaped my notice that Stephanie was really an attractive woman with a great figure and a beautiful smile.
Not that there was any chance of anything going on between us.
We were colleagues and friends at work, and we’d gone out for dinner and drinks on occasion (with maybe only a little light flirting), but that’s as far as it went.
We were professional.
I could count on one hand the number of times we’d actually visited each other’s homes.
Stephanie was telling me about a call for proposals she’d seen online for a conference in Houston.
She’d had some ideas and was wondering if I wanted to collaborate on something.
I agreed.
At that point in my career I’d have agreed to anything to get my name out there – publish or perish, as they say.
Outside the Union, a blonde girl pressed a flyer into Stephanie’s hand saying, “Thursday at eight.
Check us out!” Absently, Stephanie folded the page into her pocket, and we carried on towards lunch.
She didn’t take it out again until we were nearly finished eating, and there was a lull in our conversation.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s an ad for a yoga class,” Stephanie said.
“Oh,” I muttered, and rolled my eyes.
“What?” Stephanie asked.
“You don’t believe in all that stupid hippie crap, do you?” I asked.
“Well.
.
.
I don’t know.
It seems interesting.
” “But it’s the worst kind of cultural appropriation, you know? These white women stole this rich spiritual practice from India.
They don’t even understand it.
They just talk a lot of superficial bullshit about chakras and enlightenment as an excuse to show off in front of a bunch of other white women.
” “So?” Stephanie countered.
“So? I mean, this is the same shit that white people are always doing to other cultures.
” “I know,” she said, touching my forearm lightly.
“And part of me wants to be offended, but I also kinda want to try it anyway, to see what the big deal is.
I mean, aren’t you at least a little curious?” “About stretching and talking shit? Not really.
” “Come on, Javi,” Stephanie begged.
“Why don’t you try it with me? I don’t want to go on my own.
” I made a face.
“Listen, we don’t even have to call it yoga.
We can call it ‘stretching and talking shit’ if that makes you happier.
Why don’t you come stretch and talk shit with me?” I laughed.
Stephanie smiled warmly back at me.
At that point, I knew I had lost.
I’d give in to pretty much anything she asked of me, just to be at the other end of that smile.
“Fine,” I submitted.
“But let it go on record that I don’t actually buy into any of this shit.
” “Think of it as research,” Stephanie offered.
“An ethnographic study of white, liberal, middle-class women in their natural habitat.
” We both laughed at that.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“I’ve got a class Thursday evening.
Why don’t you meet me at my office afterwards, and then we can go from here.
” “Sure.
” *** My class finished at seven, but the usual entourage wanted to hang around afterwards to discuss the readings and assignments.
Finally, I managed to send the last of them home after a few not too subtle hints.
By the time I got back to my office, Stephanie was already waiting for me.
She was wearing a pair of tights and a baggy sweat shirt from her alma mater.
The sweater was as concealing as the tights were revealing.
I couldn’t wait to see what was under it.
“Sorry.
Students.
” I apolo-splained.
She nodded her understanding.
“Just give me a minute to get changed, okay?” I went into my office while she waited outside.
Hurriedly, I stripped out of my clothes, down to my underwear.
I stuffed them into my bag, and then put on my workout clothes, an old pair of sweat pants and an equally old t-shirt.
Within a couple of minutes I was ready to go.
By the time we got to the yoga studio, it was a few minutes past eight.
The lights were dimmed, and the room was full of kneeling bodies on mats oriented towards a raised platform at the front, where the instructor – the same blond girl who had handed us the flyer – was leading a meditation.
“There’s some space over there,” an older woman near to the entrance whispered at us, pointing towards the side of the studio.
Carefully, we tip-toed over to the wall, threading our way carefully around the mats, trying not to disturb anyone.
I felt guilty, recalling my own irritation any time a straggling student interrupted my class.
Eventually we found space enough to roll out our own mats.
Stephanie pulled off her sweater to reveal a cute, tight-fitting top beneath.
It was black and pink and short, showing off a nicely toned midriff.
I had to remind myself that she was my colleague and that I shouldn’t be staring.
Instead, I focused on the instructor at the front of the class, who was just ending the meditation.
“Namaste,” she said.
The class echoed the word back to her.
“We’re going to start off this week with some relatively easy poses, just to get you warmed up, and then gradually as we go along, and you get more flexible, we can work our way through some more advanced poses.
But for now let’s just keep it simple, alright? So first, I want you to raise your arms above your head like this.
Good.
And bring them together.
Stand up straight and tall.
Feel your muscles stretch.
Now breathe in deep, and let it go.
Feel those muscles relax as you breath out.
Good.
  Become aware of your spine.
.
.
” She took us through the mountain pose, the child pose, the cat pose, and the cow pose, before having us sit cross-legged and meditate again.
Everything had a special breathing pattern associated with it.
Mountain was long in and long out: “AHHHH.
” For the child pose, we were supposed to go “Ha! Ha! HEEE!” as we breathed out.
It all seemed kind of stupid to me.
But I looked over occasionally at Stephanie, and she seemed to really be enjoying herself.
Okay, I thought to myself, I’ll do it for her.
I remembered what she’d said about doing research.
I imagined myself as Dian Fossey observing her gorillas in the mists of the Congo.
I began silently making mental notes to myself – I have infiltrated their habitat, but keep a non-threatening distance, so that I can study their ways in order to  imitate them and earn their trust.
.
.
All in all, the class wasn’t completely unenjoyble.
And if I’m being honest, I did feel kind of relaxed afterwards.
I don’t know if my chakras were blasted or my energy was brought into planetary alignment, or anything like that, but I felt like I’d just gotten a good workout.
Even the next day, I felt subtly more energetic, sharper, and less distracted.
I made significant progress on my literature review.
So when Stephanie asked me to come with her again next week, I was game.
Hell, just the chance to hang around her in that tight yoga outfit was totally worth it.
It was a complete change from the professional attire we usually wore around each other in the department, and I have to say, her body in the skin-tight clothes looked amazing.
Her ass was nice and round.
Her firm breasts were on the smallish side, but nothing to complain about.
Her stomach was flat, but not overly muscular.
I would only allow myself quick, inconspicuous glances at her, though.
We were, after all, still colleagues.
Of course, there was plenty else to look at.
The class was predominantly female.
The instructor herself was in great shape, as were many of the other students, though most of them were a bit too young for me.
They could have been my own students.
Still, just in terms of looking, I couldn’t complain.
I continued my “research.
” The more confident ones were at the front of the class, closer to their leader.
Those who seemed unsure of themselves kept towards the back.
I must observe changes in the social organization, as a key to understanding these creatures, I thought to myself.
Every now and then, I’d catch Stephanie watching me.
When our eyes met, she’d give me a bemused little smile, which I’d return with a nod.
*** “Looking forward to yoga tonight?” I asked as we sat down to lunch again.
We’d been going to the class for a couple of months by this point.
Both of us had limbered up considerably in that time, straining less to maintain the poses.
If I was being honest, I was actually getting kind of bored of repeating the same handful of positions, and was hoping that the instructor would introduce something new and more challenging.
But as long as Stephanie wanted to go, I’d happily go with her.
“Mhm,” Stephanie nodded, and then regarded me suspiciously.
“You know, I seem to recall a certain someone who said they didn’t want to go.
They said it was just a bunch of white girls stretching and talking shit.
” “Yeah, well.
.
.
” I trailed off.
“Now they can’t get enough of it.
” “It’s just something to do, you know.
I mean, it’s a good excuse to focus on something other than work for a change.
” “Uh huh,” she said slyly.
“I think I know what you’re focused on.
” “You do?” I asked, nearly choking on a mouthful of sandwich.
“Come on, Javi,” she said.
“Lots of attractive ladies in there in their tight little outfits.
You can’t tell me you haven’t had your eye on at least a few of them.
” “Oh.
.
.
well.
.
.
uh.
.
.
” “Look at your face! You’re blushing.
I knew it,” she laughed.
“I’ve seen you checking the field.
” Embarrassed, I stared down at my lunch.
“Hey, it’s alright,” she continued, placing her hands on top of my own.
“You’re a single man, Javi.
It’s allowed.
Is it anyone in particular?” “No,” I lied, shaking my head.
“There’s no one.
” “You know, it’s strange.
For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never had a girlfriend.
Maybe we can find you one.
” “I’ve dated,” I countered.
It was true.
There had been a few dates here and there, but nothing serious, and for the last few months I’d hit a total dry-spell.
It was hard to fit a new relationship into academic life.
“Anyway, what about you?” “I’m not into women,” Stephanie replied sarcastically.
“You know what I mean,” I objected.
“It’s different,” she said.
“Guys get intimidated by intelligent women, you know? It’s like they’re always trying to compete with you, and prove you wrong.
” “I’m not intimidated,” I said, and then worried whether I’d said too much.
“No, I know,” she said ignoring the insinuation of my comment.
“But that’s what I’m saying.
It’s not a big deal for a guy to be smarter than the girl, but they get all freaked out if girls are smarter or more accomplished than them.
I mean, for a woman, a Ph.
D.
totally limits the field.
It’s bullshit.
But I’ve got to tell you, Javi, I’m getting pretty tired of this shit.
I mean, you know how long it’s been since-” “Stop! Stop!” I shouted.
“I don’t want to know.
” “Too damned long,” Stephanie concluded laughing at my awkwardness.
“If something doesn’t change soon, I might just have to jump the first guy I see.
” I couldn’t help notice that, sitting directly across from her, she was looking at me.
*** That night, as the yoga class concluded and we were rolling up our mats, the instructor, Kayla, approached me.
“Hey Javi,” she said smiling.
“Oh, hi,” I returned.
In my mind I couldn’t help the running monologue: There has been a wonderful breakthrough! The tribe leader has conferred her acceptance of me as one of the group.
“Great class,” I said aloud.
“Thanks.
I noticed you’ve really developed quite a lot since you started.
” I wondered if she was flirting with me.
I looked over to Stephanie, who looked back at me with an encouraging smile, and a slight nod.
“Well,” I said.
“I’ve enjoyed yoga more than I thought I would when my friend Stephanie talked me into coming with her.
” “He really does love it,” Stephanie interjected, trying to play my wing-man.
“He was saying you’re a really good teacher.
” “Great,” Kayla said.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.
” “Oh?” Stephanie said, smiling excitedly at me.
“Well, I have an advanced yoga retreat that I teach.
It’s more private.
.
.
by invitation only.
.
.
but I think you’d be perfect for it.
” Stephanie nudged me with her elbow.
“Me?” I asked.
Kayla nodded.
“Both of you.
It’s a couples’ yoga.
” “Couples?” I repeated.
“We’re not actually, um.
.
.
” “You’re not?” Kayla asked, frowning.
“I thought.
.
.
sorry.
It’s just that you always come in together, and I’ve seen how you look at each other.
I just thought.
.
.
” I turned to look at Stepahnie.
Stephanie only smiled back at me sheepishly.
I knew I had been checking her out, but I had no idea she’d been watching me as well.
But Kayla had seen all from the front of the room.
Just who was observing who, here? I wondered.
“Can you give us a minute?” Stephanie asked.
Kayla agreed, and went to the front of the room to pack away her things.
“Are you really considering this?” I asked.
“It’s not like either one of us is actually seeing anyone,” Stephanie said quietly.
“I know, but we work together,” I argued.
“Wouldn’t it be kind of awkward?” “Yeah, but it’s just yoga, you know? Stretching and talking shit, remember? It wouldn’t be like we were actually dating or anything.
Besides, I doubt they’d actually force us to do anything we were uncomfortable doing.
If it gets weird, we can just stop.
” “No, I know,” I said reluctantly.
“Come on, Javi.
Aren’t you at least a little curious?” “Maybe a little, but.
.
.
” This was an opportunity to continue my ‘research,’ to enter into the spaces of white middle-class liberalism reserved for just a select few.
It also meant I’d get to see more of Stephanie in a space away from campus.
“I mean, we’ve pretty much mastered what this class has to offer,” she said.
“I want to try something new.
” “Yeah, me too,” I admitted, not really sure what kind of novelty we were in store for.
“So?” “Alright,” I gave in.
“As long as we can stop when it gets weird.
” “If it gets weird,” Stephanie corrected.
“Sure.
” I caught Kayla just as she was headed out the door.
I told her we’d decided to come to her retreat after all.
She seemed excited.
I gave her my e-mail address to send the details.
*** The retreat was held at the end of the month at a small natural resort in the woods about an hour outside of Clinton City.
After checking into our room on Friday, the rest of the afternoon was mostly given to social activities and ice-breakers, ending with a healthy vegetarian dinner, and then free time for the couples.
We wandered amongst the attendees, stopping to chat here and there.
All the while, I kept a running monologue in my head like the voice-over from a nature documentary: The female has moved to make contact with another group.
Her mate accompanies her.
There is a competitive display of body markings and other adornments signifying their enlightenment.
And it appears that these are adequate to gain acceptance into the group.
.
.
The other attendees were all fairly attractive people from all over the country.
There were definitely many more ‘spiritualist’ types than at the university.
They wore beads and medallions and other hippie gear they’d probably spent a small fortune on.
They also appeared to be a slightly older, more professional crowd.
I imagine that the pricey registration fee discouraged most younger people.
A lot of people wanted to share their interpretations about the will of the universe with us.
It was hard for me to keep a straight face.
One woman in her forties offered to do Tarot readings for anyone who wanted one.
Stephanie dragged me over to her table, and we both had our fortunes told.
They invariably came out the same – breaking old patterns, forming new bonds, looking forward to great things in the future.
After socializing with the other attendees over a few glasses of wine, Stephanie and I went back to the room around nine o’clock.
I shared some of my observations with her, and she laughed.
Since it was a couples’ retreat, we’d been booked into the same room together.
I’d been giving myself a talk about keeping things professional, and not letting them get too weird between us.
Fortunately, there were two beds.
We took turns in the washroom changing into pyjamas, brushing our teeth, and performing our other nightly rituals.
Finally, we crawled into our separate beds and wished each other goodnight.
Stephanie fell asleep almost instantly.
I read for an hour more, before finally turning off the bedside lamp.
The next day’s activities were scheduled to begin at half-past-seven in the morning.
*** The morning began in the common room, a large open space with huge windows looking out into the trees.
More couples had arrived after we’d gone to bed.
There were about thirty of us in total, our brightly coloured yoga mats spread out in radians around Kayla and her male co-instructor, Stewart.
Following a few opening remarks, Kayla led us through a twelve-step sun salutation, while Stewart recited a lengthy poem or prayer that sounded like a combination of Blake and Wordsworth but wasn’t something I recognized by either writer.
Even though I was familiar with each of the individual poses from class, I was surprised by how fluidly some of the other yoga-ers (Yogites? Yogatons? I wasn’t sure what to call them, exactly) moved through them.
I struggled to keep up, thinking, ‘well, you wanted a challenge.
You got one.
‘ I looked over at Stephanie fighting to keep her balance, glad to see I wasn’t the only one having a hard time.
Stewart concluded his recitation with a “namaste,” which we solemnly repeated back to him.
Then we sat down to a breakfast of oatmeal, fresh fruit, tea, and juices.
I was already thinking about getting a nice big greasy bacon cheeseburger as soon as we left this place.
“See?” Stephanie asked.
“It’s totally normal so far, right?” “I mean, I guess that depends on your definition of normal,” I teased her.
“Okay, but you know what I mean.
We shared a room together, but it wasn’t weird or awkward was it?” “No,” I admitted.
“So far, it’s been cool.
” “We can do this,” Stephanie assured me.
“It’ll be fine.
” After breakfast, we returned to our mats in the common room.
Kayla asked us to find a comfortable position.
Stephanie sat cross-legged.
I lay down on my back.
We were then instructed to close our eyes, and focus on our breathing.
In-out, in-out.
After a few minutes she told us to recall the feeling of our last orgasm.
I had a moment of hesitation, surprised by the sudden focus on sex.
I opened my eyes a crack and squinted around the room.
No one else seemed alarmed in the slightest.
I mentally shrugged to myself, and let my eyelids close completely again.
I thought about how I’d jerked off to a porn video online (mingled with my own fantasies about Stephanie), not long before we’d left for the retreat yesterday.
We were to picture that orgasmic energy we’d felt at the moment of climax as a ball of light.
Then we were instructed to feel its glow filling up our entire bodies from our toes to the tops of our heads, activating each of our chakras.
Kayla listed and described each of them, and what was supposed to be happening with them.
Though I kept my eyes closed, I could hear several moans from around the room as people were becoming turned on imagining their own sexual energies.
It was kind of funny, but at the same time, I could feel the beginning tingles in my own groin, as I thought about how I’d imagined Stephanie contorting her body in her tight yoga outfit (and what she might look like out of it) and the feeling of bringing myself to climax.
Kayla steadily directed the flow of this energy through our bodies, building in intensity, and then overflowing from us into the common room, coming into contact with our partner’s energy, merging and intensifying.
There was another moan, this one coming from beside me where Stephanie was sitting.
I couldn’t help but turn my head to sneak a peek at her.
Her eyes were closed tight, and I could see her chest rising and falling heavily.
She was really into this.
Suddenly, I wanted to be in it as well.
I closed my eyes again, returning to Kayla’s visualization, feeling my orgasmic glow melding with Stephanie’s, a beautiful synthesis.
Then Kayla told us to imagine the glow expanding even further throughout the room, mixing with the glow of other couples, combining and bathing us all in this intense bright light, shining through the windows, touching the trees, spreading over the country, touching all kinds of different people, absorbing their own orgasmic energies that were dormant inside them, and eventually enveloping the entire world in a great big ball of ecstasy.
Then the direction was reversed, and we were instructed to feel all of this sexual energy – billions of orgasms all over the world – flowing back into our bodies, filling us up again with a shared connection to all humanity.
Finally, we were told to return to the room and open our eyes.
I looked again at Stephanie, who was smiling back at me as if she’d just experienced the best sex in the world.
I couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“Wow,” she silently mouthed at me.
“I know,” I agreed, nodding.
“That was kind of intense.
” “Yeah.
Then Stephanie glanced towards my crotch.
I followed her eyes, and saw that I’d grown a firm erection during the visualization exercise.
“Shit,” I said, and attempted to sit up with my hands in my lap to conceal it.
“Hey, man, it’s okay,” Stewart said to me, noticing my embarrassment as he was walking by.
He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Stand up,” he said, gently guiding me to my feet.
I wanted to resist, but what could I do? Reluctantly I stood, hunched over, keeping my hands clutched firmly in front of my crotch, and feeling my face flushing with shyness.
Then Stewart raised his voice for the whole class, drawing their attention, which only added to my embarrassment.
“Listen.
There is no shame here.
We shouldn’t punish each other or ourselves for the normal and natural behaviour of our bodies.
This weekend, let’s try to set aside the rules of polite society that tells us we need to discipline and master our bodies.
Instead, let’s start paying attention to them and appreciating what they have to say to us and to others.
” “That’s a good point,” Kayla added.
“We’re here this weekend to explore and develop our tantric energies, not to stifle them.
Shame is the enemy of tantra.
Openness, honesty, and freedom are its allies.
Allow yourself this weekend to be turned on, to become aroused, freely, openly, honestly, without shame or judgment.
Online Now! Lush Cams ChanelSantana It’s alright.
” Feeling the pressure of the eyes of the room on me, I slowly allowed my hands to fall to my sides, exposing the outline of my still-half-hard cock through my sweat pants.
Looking around, I noticed some of the other men in the room also had erections, and were less concerned about concealing them than I was.
“Alright.
.
.
Javier is it?” Stewart asked.
“Javi, yeah.
” “Thank you for sharing this lesson with us, Javi.
Namaste.
” He bowed to me slightly, then turned to the rest of the room.
“Let’s give a hand to Javi.
” A room full of strangers began to applaud my diminishing erection.
I was strangely uncomfortable with the attention, but comforted by their acceptance.
I spun around to find Stephanie clapping and smiling proudly at me along with everyone else as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
I recalled the way she’d moaned during the visualization, and the way her chest had been heaving.
I thought enviously how unfair it was.
If she’d been a guy, she’d be in the same situation I was in.
As the applause faded, I sat back down on my mat.
Next, Kayla and Stewart took us through a number of yoga poses designed to activate our sacral chakras.
These seemed to involve mostly a lot of leg spreading and pelvic thrusting.
After this, we were instructed to take our partner’s hand and to go for a silent meditative walk in the woods, returning for lunch around noon.
“Hey listen, I-” I started after we’d left the building and wandered a little way away from the others.
“Shh.
” Stephanie put her finger to her lips.
She was really taking this stuff seriously, and giving herself entirely to the process.
I still wasn’t totally sure about it, but I felt like I’d be an asshole to ruin her good time, or whatever it was she might get from all of this.
I nodded at her, and she smiled back at me, looking into my eyes.
I felt her hand squeeze mine lightly, and we carried on silently into the woods, simply enjoying the feeling of each other’s company.
*** Lunch consisted of a vegetable soup, followed by falafels, pita bread, pickled beets and tahini sauce.
Even though the prohibition on talking had been lifted when we returned to the main building, we all seemed to cling to the sense of peace we’d found, leaving the dining hall as quiet as a library.
After lunch, each couple was given a set of cards with interview questions, and told to find a private place to interview each other.
The goal of the activity was to be totally honest and open with each other, and to withhold judgment.
Stephanie and I sat outside by the fire pit in a couple of comfortable plastic deck chairs.
She shuffled through the cards, and picked one at random.
“Oh, uh.
.
.
” she said, reading the card to herself.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.
” “Let me see,” I grabbed at it, but she yanked it away.
“It just says, ‘Tell me about your first sexual experience.
‘” “Oh,” I said.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Stephanie offered.
She flipped through the cards.
“Most of these are kind of similar – really personal stuff.
” “No, I mean, I guess it’s alright, if you don’t mind,” I said, giving her a smile.
“This is all about the research, remember?” “Well, as long as it’s for research,” Stephanie said, returning my smile.
“I don’t mind.
” “Alright, Well.
.
.
” *** I told her about my first time.
I was a senior in high school, which I guess was kind of late for losing your virginity.
It seemed like everyone else I knew had already lost theirs (though probably at least some of them were lying).
A buddy and I were out on a Friday night, hanging around outside the local corner store, drinking slushies, eating candy, and generally just feeling young and bored.
A couple of girls we knew from school came to the store to pick up some snacks.
We talked for awhile about school and all the kids we knew.
Then they told us they had some alcohol back at one of the girls’ places.
And invited us over to hang out with them.
Her parents were out of town or something.
We went with them, and were hanging out in the basement.
They had hard lemonades and wine coolers (Stephanie laughed at the face I made remembering how disgusting they tasted, until I reminded her that at that age you take what you can get).
We were watching a movie – Jerry Maguire, I think.
My buddy and one of the girls were all over each other as soon as the movie started.
They were making out, fondling each other.
After about half an hour, they decided to take it up to her bedroom, leaving just me and the other girl to finish watching the movie together.
The girl said she was feeling sleepy, and wanted to know if she could lie down with her head on a pillow in my lap.
I said yeah.
I figured girls were just weird, not actually thinking anything would happen.
So she lay there, and I’d never had a girl so close to me, and I had no idea what to do with her.
I was afraid to even touch her in case I was reading the wrong signals.
Fortunately, she was okay with making all the moves.
After awhile, I felt her hand under the pillow.
It slowly moved up my leg.
I still had no idea what I was supposed to do about that, so I just stayed still.
Frozen.
I couldn’t concentrate on the movie, I could only focus on the progress of her hand.
And I was getting turned on.
I mean, looking back, that was the whole point, but at the time, I was so nervous about what would happen if she found out I had a hard-on, I was actually trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.
But I couldn’t come up with any good ideas that wouldn’t make things more awkward.
Anyway, eventually she did touch it, and she acted surprised, but in a good way.
I remember the way she looked at me with this kind of devilish smile.
She started to stroke it through my pants, and that made me kind of relax a little.
Then she leaned up and kissed me, and we started making out.
All the while her hand was still caressing my boner.
Finally, she stood up, and took off her shirt, and then her bra.
I’d never seen a real girl’s boobs before, and I was hypnotized by them.
She told me I could touch them if I wanted, so I di