13-06-2025, 05:23 PM
The Navel Moment: Front Hold Balance Pose
Their final pose required one person to balance, standing, while the other leaned back in their grip.
Meghana stood tall, offering both hands. “Trust me?” she asked.
“I think I do,” he said.
“Then catch me.”
She leaned back, arms extended, her weight pulling gently into his. His feet grounded. His hands slid forward to steady her—one catching her palm, the other instinctively rising to her bare waist, just under her ribs.
His fingers brushed the soft curve of her belly, right near her navel.
He felt an immediate response, his own body reacting instinctively to hers. He could feel his arousal growing, pushing into his pants with increasing intensity.
The pressure of his hand on her waist was firm. The warmth of her skin was like a soft caress against the hardness of his own. A sensation he'd never experienced before.
Abhi knew he was getting turned on; he could feel himself stiffening in his pants, and yet he couldn't bring himself to move away. Instead, he pressed his hand even harder into Meghana's waist.
It was like an electric current running between them—a connection that went far beyond then expected.
Meghana was like a living flame—her warmth spreading through him with each touch. Her skin was smooth beneath his fingertips, which are hovering around her belly.
Abhi's senses were heightened; he could smell the floral perfume on her skin, and it mixed with her natural scent—the result was intoxicating. He felt like he was losing himself in her—becoming one with her very being.
Her body seemed to come alive under his touch—a light flush of color spreading across her chest as he pressed his hand against her waist. Her navel formed a small indentation between his fingers and palm, drawing him closer with every beat of her heart.
He could feel the light tremors running through her, and it sent a jolt through him—reminding him how much he enjoyed being with her.
She knew he was getting turned on—his arousal evident even through his clothes. It felt incredible to be desired by him; it stirred something deep within her, making her feel warm all over.
Meghana's own body was responding to his touch—the way he held her waist, the way his fingers roaming around her belly sent shivers running through her. She could feel herself becoming wetter as they stood there together, a softness growing between her legs that she couldn't quite ignore.
As Abhi pressed even harder into her waist, Meghana felt the heat of his arousal intensifying against her own body—a feeling that was both exciting and deeply arousing to her.
Meghana's mind raced with the realization that this was more than just a lesson in yoga. She could feel herself becoming incredibly aroused as they stood there together.
She gasped—quiet, but didn’t move away.
Their eyes locked.
Then, her voice, low: “You’re getting comfortable.”
He started to pull back, but her hand caught his wrist gently.
“Did I say stop?”
Abhi froze.
Her eyes searched his. Something unspoken passed between them—heat and hesitation, permission and pause.
Finally, she released him.
“That’s enough for today,” she said, voice breathier than before. “You’re improving fast.”
“Because of my teacher.”
She stepped back, picking up her towel. “Tomorrow,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “we try trust drops. Hope you’re not afraid of falling.”
Abhi, still rooted to the spot, watched her go—his skin still buzzing from the soft imprint of her touch… and the one he’d left on her.
---
Their final pose required one person to balance, standing, while the other leaned back in their grip.
Meghana stood tall, offering both hands. “Trust me?” she asked.
“I think I do,” he said.
“Then catch me.”
She leaned back, arms extended, her weight pulling gently into his. His feet grounded. His hands slid forward to steady her—one catching her palm, the other instinctively rising to her bare waist, just under her ribs.
His fingers brushed the soft curve of her belly, right near her navel.
He felt an immediate response, his own body reacting instinctively to hers. He could feel his arousal growing, pushing into his pants with increasing intensity.
The pressure of his hand on her waist was firm. The warmth of her skin was like a soft caress against the hardness of his own. A sensation he'd never experienced before.
Abhi knew he was getting turned on; he could feel himself stiffening in his pants, and yet he couldn't bring himself to move away. Instead, he pressed his hand even harder into Meghana's waist.
It was like an electric current running between them—a connection that went far beyond then expected.
Meghana was like a living flame—her warmth spreading through him with each touch. Her skin was smooth beneath his fingertips, which are hovering around her belly.
Abhi's senses were heightened; he could smell the floral perfume on her skin, and it mixed with her natural scent—the result was intoxicating. He felt like he was losing himself in her—becoming one with her very being.
Her body seemed to come alive under his touch—a light flush of color spreading across her chest as he pressed his hand against her waist. Her navel formed a small indentation between his fingers and palm, drawing him closer with every beat of her heart.
He could feel the light tremors running through her, and it sent a jolt through him—reminding him how much he enjoyed being with her.
She knew he was getting turned on—his arousal evident even through his clothes. It felt incredible to be desired by him; it stirred something deep within her, making her feel warm all over.
Meghana's own body was responding to his touch—the way he held her waist, the way his fingers roaming around her belly sent shivers running through her. She could feel herself becoming wetter as they stood there together, a softness growing between her legs that she couldn't quite ignore.
As Abhi pressed even harder into her waist, Meghana felt the heat of his arousal intensifying against her own body—a feeling that was both exciting and deeply arousing to her.
Meghana's mind raced with the realization that this was more than just a lesson in yoga. She could feel herself becoming incredibly aroused as they stood there together.
She gasped—quiet, but didn’t move away.
Their eyes locked.
Then, her voice, low: “You’re getting comfortable.”
He started to pull back, but her hand caught his wrist gently.
“Did I say stop?”
Abhi froze.
Her eyes searched his. Something unspoken passed between them—heat and hesitation, permission and pause.
Finally, she released him.
“That’s enough for today,” she said, voice breathier than before. “You’re improving fast.”
“Because of my teacher.”
She stepped back, picking up her towel. “Tomorrow,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “we try trust drops. Hope you’re not afraid of falling.”
Abhi, still rooted to the spot, watched her go—his skin still buzzing from the soft imprint of her touch… and the one he’d left on her.
---
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