The latina girl

You look over at the latina girl with the humongous ass. She has been staring at you. And she does seem like one of the best potential partners here. You could probably really learn a lot from her. And she has a huge ass.

Her large, full-moon eyes are scanning you before you even walk toward her. Once you've reached her, she says, "So, you feel the connection too?"

"I guess I do," you say. "Maybe there's something to it."

She nods. "My name is Yasmin Ortega"

"Ryan Brown," you respond.

"I believe that there is a strong potential connection between us. And that if we work together, it will be to our benefit."

God this girl is weird.

"Well let's see it in action, then," you say, rolling with it. "Maybe you'll prove it to me."

Working with Yasmin does feel magical, at first. She is an extremely talented partner, and knows when to both give and take support. You even manage to ignore her ass in yoga pants for a bit, as you focus on the yoga itself.

But then, as you try to twist her around, your hand brushes against her inner thigh. She gasps. You hear it, you shoot a glance over at Mister Sadovitra worried that he heard it. But he doesn't respond. He is walking from group to group, observing them.

"Sorry," she says. "My sacral chakra still isn't aligned."

"What does that mean?" You whisper.

"It means I'm sexually starved," she says, with uncharacteristic bluntness. "Ignore it, please. This is about our bodies, but not in that way."

You try to just ignore it. But it happens again as your hand coincidentally rubs her inner leg. Then pretty much all contact with her hips or lower body draws some kind of response from her. At one point, you end up touching her ass as you pull her during downward dog. You have never felt something so firm at its core, but soft on the surface. She gasps, and her butt pushes back against you. And then grinds. you look down at her yoga pants, stretched so tight over her posterior that it becomes painfully obvious that she is either wearing a thong underneath or nothing at all.

Your erection flies to full mast as if it were spring-loaded. You cannot operate with this tent in your pants, and you step away, covering yourself.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, looking back over her shoulder.

"Uh...yeah," you say. "It's fine. I just need to...y'know. I need to go to the bathroom."

You leave the studio, headed for a bathroom that is just outside in the main hall. When you get there you find a powerful erection that won't quit. You need to get yourself under control.