Daphne - the yoga instructor

Broken from my reverie, I got up, struggling to hide the evidence of my arousal as I clumsily made my way towards the front door. When I swung it open, I was taken aback by the sight of a statuesque redhead standing there, her flushed, sweat-beaded skin glistening under the glow of the hallway light. She wore a fitted sports bra that strained to contain her taut curves and a pair of spandex shorts so snug they traced the contours of her hips and ass with every subtle shift. The sheen on her rock-hard abs told the story of a vigorous run, and a light mist of perspiration clung to her skin like dew on morning grass.

"Ah, hello?" I managed, my voice a mix of surprise and nervous greeting.

With a warm smile, she introduced herself, "Oh, hi. I'm Daphne. I heard you moved in recently, and while I was out on my run, I caught sight of your place. I thought I’d pop in to see if you were planning to reopen."

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "I'm seriously considering it. Did you, by any chance, know my aunt?"

Her eyes lit up immediately. "Of course. Everyone in town knew Emily. She was absolutely fantastic. I still remember the wonderful times we shared; I even run a yoga studio just a few blocks away where Emily used to join my classes. We also had plenty of photo sessions here at your place. She was incredibly talented—I'm not just talking about handling a camera," she added with a playful twinkle in her eye.

Flipping through some old photos on my laptop just moments earlier, I had admired Emily’s impeccable eye. "I was just looking at a few snapshots. She really had an eye for beauty. I’d love to try to follow in her footsteps, though I'm honestly not sure I could ever match the standard she set," I admitted.

Daphne reached out, her hand brushing against my arm with a gentle, reassuring touch. "Don't worry about that, honestly; I bet you have your own unique talents," she said quietly before pivoting on her heel. "I'm going to finish my run now. Why not join me for lunch later? My place is on 10 Congress Avenue."

Before I could reply, Daphne was already striding away down the street, her athletic form moving gracefully, the fabric of her spandex shorts rippling over her curves with each steady, confident step. I watched her until she disappeared from view, then closed the door, powered down my computer, and returned to the quiet of the house to prepare for our lunch date.

After a refreshing shower and a quick shave, I slipped into a pair of khaki diver shorts and a crisp v-neck t-shirt. I grabbed an old map, tracing the route to Daphne’s house—a small collection of streets no more than a few blocks away. Walking through the impeccably maintained neighborhood, I couldn’t help but notice the meticulous care each lawn and garden received. Soon enough, I arrived at a charming, tan Craftsman-style home trimmed in white. I knocked on the door, and when silence greeted me, I pushed the door open a crack and called out, "Hello? Daphne?"

From down the hall came a clear, friendly voice, "Just a minute. I'll be right out."

I closed the door behind me and surveyed the quiet room, letting my eyes absorb every detail as I waited. A few minutes later, Daphne appeared as if emerging from a gentle summer rain—her vibrant red hair still glistening with droplets from a recent shower. She wore nothing except the simple scrunchie that held her hair in a carefree ponytail, her toned body a living testament to strength and beauty. Each muscle along her shoulders, arms, abs, and thighs was delicately defined in a way that radiated both power and femininity. Her breasts, modest yet perky B-cups, boasted pierced nipples that caught my attention in a way I hadn't noticed when she wore her sports bra earlier. Her creamy, porcelain skin provided a striking contrast to her fiery hair, while light freckles dusted across her face and shoulders like scattered stardust. The subtle trimmed strip of red pubic hair confirmed that her red hair was as authentic as her allure. The sight dramatically increased my state of arousal, my erection straining against my shorts as she moved gracefully toward me.

"Let's eat," she announced with a playful lilt, seizing the waistband of my shorts and effortlessly tugging me toward the kitchen. "I’m always famished after a run, and you seem to have a healthy appetite." Without a moment's hesitation, I followed her lead. We soon settled at the table to share a salad abundant with chickpeas and crisp, fresh vegetables—a meal far from my usual cravings, yet I accepted it without protest.

Mid-bite, Daphne, in her characteristic direct fashion, declared, "After lunch, we can fuck." Her statement brooked no argument, and I could only mumble my agreement through a mouthful of my rabbit-food salad, the promise of further indulgence more than enough motivation.

Once we had both finished eating, Daphne swiftly rinsed the dishes and deposited them into the dishwasher before returning to me. "You're still dressed," she observed disapprovingly, her tone leaving no doubt that she was accustomed to directing the flow of things—a habit that perhaps also made her an exceptional yoga instructor.

Eager to comply and not to disappoint, I apologized as I began removing the limited clothing from my body. Despite the near constant stimulation of the day, my arousal remained shockingly persistent, a physical testament to both desire and the enhancement found in Eden Valley's water.

"Oh, that's just fine," she said, her eyes dancing with appetite. "I always get incredibly horny after a workout and need a release. Let me see what you've got to work with—your cock is impressive enough. I think it’ll do very nicely." She circled me, her gaze devouring every inch of me with a mix of appreciation and desire.

"Thank you," I murmured, the anticipation building with every beat of my heart.

"Lie down over there," she directed, pointing toward a neatly folded foam mattress in the living room. I promptly unfolded it and lay back, my erection standing defiantly like a solitary skyscraper in the center of the room. In an instant, Daphne pounced, her approach melding passion and precision. She spat lightly onto my steel-hard cock, began to stroke me with a practiced hand, and soon had her mouth wrapped tightly around the head. Her warm, wet lips coated the shaft with saliva and then she shifted her position. Turning her back toward me, Daphne opened my legs with an inviting smile and slid herself between them, her own legs nestling beneath mine.

In perfect harmony, she reached down between her legs to grasp my well-lubricated erection, slowly guiding it into the heated sanctuary of her waiting pussy. I savored the view of her rounded, muscular ass flexing with each movement, the subtle play of muscle and skin as her natural rhythm meshed with my own arousal. Every dip and rise of her body made her pussy grip me in a tantalizing dance, and even though she led our encounter, I couldn’t help but reach up, cupping her enticing curves with both hands.

"Yes!" she cried out with delighted abandon as she increased her pace, riding me with renewed gusto. "Play with my ass while I fuck you!" Her command was both an invitation and a challenge.

Eagerly, I wet my thumb and, with measured care, inserted it into her enticing, warm asshole, feeling the delicate resistance of her muscles as she rode my pulsating cock with furious determination. Her whole body shuddered through an intense orgasm, yet she maintained her relentless rhythm. I continued to explore her most sensitive spot until, in one fluid motion, she unhooked her legs from beneath me and turned to face me—without ever relinquishing her hold on my erection. The change in position allowed me the pleasure of touching her pierced breasts and witnessing the unrestrained waves of bliss that danced across her face.

Still riding me, she leaned in to claim my mouth with a deep, probing kiss, her tongue entwining with mine as our bodies melded in the throes of passion. I responded eagerly, wrapping my arms around her before rising to the occasion. With a gentle pull, she allowed me to stand as I pressed her back against the wall, our union shifting into a standing rhythm that continued until fatigue tugged at my legs—a silent reminder that perhaps more workouts were in my future.

As we eventually tumbled back onto the mattress, Daphne resumed her fervent ride with unyielding energy, her motions as relentless as a fairground attraction, until I could no longer contain the surge within me.

"I'm going to cum," I warned softly, the impending climax pulsing through every fiber of my being.

"I want it inside me," she demanded with a sultry urgency. "I want to feel your hot cum deep inside me."

Without hesitation, I grasped her waist firmly and plunged into her eager cunt, surrendering completely to the throes of passion. The **** and length of my ejaculation surprised even me, an unmistakable signal of the intensity I had unleashed. Yet even as I released, Daphne continued her gentle, rhythmic ride, her movements easing as she leaned forward, resting her soft breasts against my chest while our lips met in another fervent kiss.

After a few lingering minutes of radiant intimacy, she rose gracefully, and I noticed my cum dripping slowly from her engorged pussy down her thigh. With a playful glint in her eye, she reached between her legs, scooped up a delicate amount of her reward, and licked it from her hand. "Thank you. I feel much better now," she murmured. "I’d love to get you ready for a second round, but I have a class in about 30 minutes. Would you like to stay for the class, …? Ummm, I just realized—I don’t know your name. I know you're Emily's nephew, but what is your name?"

"Sam. My name is Sam," I replied, still fumbling to locate where I had left my shorts.

"Well, Sam," she teased with a warm smile as she cleaned away the remnants of our fervor, "now that you're all warmed up, do you want to stay for class?"