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Enjoying my friend’s yoga bimbo wife
“One… Two… Three…” Monica grunted as she pushed and pulled, copying the trainer on the TV.
“Paul, how do you think I’m doing?”
“Yeah, whatever,” I replied. I tried hard not to gawk at her juicy ass. Christ, was she this fucking dense? Monica was dressed head to toe in exercise gear. She wore an extremely tight fitting gray t-shirt which was too small for her tits. I mean, severely small. A damp patch blossomed right in the middle of that t-shirt, turning the light gray into a dark grey. Worse still, the sweat travelled downwards, right over the thick curves of her gigantic breasts. I could make out her juicy nipples even from the other end of the living room.
There I was, cross-legged, trying to hide my boner. I knew I shouldn’t have worn shorts, but Monica was pestering me; she wanted me to join in on her new found aerobics yoga DVD, and frankly, I couldn’t focus. Every move made her bend over, showing off her tight juicy ass and accentuating her delicious curves.
It was going to be a long session. My cock throbbed painfully. I seriously needed to go home and rub one out. Truth be told, I didn’t know why I stayed over at Alan’s house. He was called into an emergency at work, so there was no real…
