Alice

You approach Alice, who needed your help before. You can't imagine that she's become a yoga savant in two days.

"Hey," you say. "Want to partner up?"

"You don't mind?" She asks. "Like...I won't slow you down?"

She will, but you don't say it aloud. Instead you just nod.

"Yes as in...yes you'll work with me or yes I'll slow you down?" She asks, nervously.

"I'll work with you," you try not to laugh at her anxiety. "Come on, let's get started."

You help her with a wide variety of stretches. Then she tries to help you. She is not helpful. Her arms aren't really strong enough to bend you into positions that you couldn't get into before. The view is nice, though, and you end up feeling her thighs in a way you hadn't before. At one point, your hand brushes up against her armored breast, just slightly, and you are struck by how well sports bras even conceal the shape of breasts. Is there more there than you thought?

In response to her ineptitude, when it's your turn, you start to make a show of only doing half the stretch, and then doing more when she tries to help in order to make her feel like she is doing something. Finally, though, you make it too obvious.

"Are you messing with me?" She asks.

"I mean, any amount of pressure helps," you try to spin it. "You do help get me there."

"Mmmm..." her blue eyes are hard. "Okay, let's switch places. Maybe I'll be more effective if I'm more limber.

You switch places and start helping her with her own stretches again. Unfortunately, she is not just struggling with her form, but outright clumsy. You aren't even sure what position you are trying to get her into when she falls back onto you, throwing you to the ground. Her backside runs down your chest and you reach out to grab something for stability. The handholds you find give way. They are soft, but you can hold onto them.

She lets out a small breathy gasp. "Aaa."

All at once, your crotch is very warm, and something...folds around it? You realize what you are holding, now. With a grip that has punched through all the resistance a sports bra offers, you are holding two handfuls of breast. You can't help but think: Holy crap she hides it well. It's at least a C cup.

But then you are distracted by not just warmth, on your crotch, but wetness. And immense, powerful pleasure. You look down to find that her legs are spread and she is leaning forward in a position that, to her, must be very straining. Her tight yoga pants do little to conceal what is commonly called a cameltoe. But that's not all. The folds you can see are, just slightly, bending around the tent sticking out of your own tight pants. Like a hotdog that is not quite in a bun. Why the fuck was that the first image you thought of?

The warmth, the moisture...it's unmistakable. She has become instantly and incredibly turned on.

Professor Sadovitra looks over, raising an eyebrow. Alice gasps, and tries to move. But gravity and your weight are putting her legs and body into a position they normally wouldn't be able to even get into. Instead, all that happens is that she grinds against you. She lets out another involuntary "aaa." Then her hand shoots up and goes over her mouth.

Every masculine instinct that you have is telling you to grind up against her. No, better, to pull her yoga pants down and thrust up into her. You calm yourself and slowly slide away. One final murmur can be heard as your clothed cock slides through, and then out of her folds.

You realize too late that you haven't released your deathgrip on her breasts. Sorry Alice. Your fingers burst open and release her.

"Surprisingly effective for building flexibility," Professor Sadovitra says, with a slight smile. "But let's try to be less risque in the future."

Everyone is looking.

Alice gets up and runs out of the room. You only consider it for a half second before you get up and follow her.

The bathroom door is locked, and there are panicked whimpers coming from the other side of it. You knock. Then knock harder, worried that she hasn't heard you over her own cries.

"Alice?" You say, when she still doesn't respond. "Can I come in?"

There's a pause in the whimpering cries, they continue then, but slower.

"Alice...uh, you know, it happened to both of us. I was right there with you."

Long silence. The door opens slowly, and there's a soft whisper. "It's different when you're a girl."

"I guess it is. Can I come in?"

She doesn't answer, but the door opens more. She looks into your eyes for a second, from the other side, and then steps back. You take it as an invitation and follow her in. Thank god for all-gender restrooms.

"I'm so..." she stops, sputtering, tear streaks visibly running down her face in the mirror. "I am so fucking embarrassed. I can't remember the last time I have been this embarrassed. This is like my worst nightmare. It's not too late to drop the class, is it? I think I have to drop the class."

"Don't do that, Alice," you say.

"Why not?" She whips around and hisses at you. "First...I'm just terrible at it. And now this."

"We're here to learn," you say. "To get better. It's the second day."

"Meaning that there are...like, infinitely more days when I'm going to be walking into that class and everyone is going to think: 'oh, there's that weird slut that grinded against her partner.' 'There's the girl who got her fucking panties wet in yoga class.' Oh god they're going to talk to other people about it, they'll tell stories..." she starts running her hair through her hands in a furious cycle. "It doesn't even matter if I drop out. There's no way out, it's too late. It's my third day of classes and I'm humiliated and this is how it's going to be for the rest of the--"

"Alice, breathe," you say, and put your hands on her shoulders. You don't even know what you're doing, but it's something you have heard people saying when other people are freaking out. "Deep, slow breaths."

Miraculously, she does it. You look into her eyes through the mirror. Together, you breathe with her. It's almost funny how this resembles Professor Sadovitra's relaxation exercises.

"Accidents happen," you say. Calmly, slowly, moreso than you thought you were capable of. "Everyone in the class knows that. And I promise you, this is college. There are plenty of girls in that class who are actually weird sluts. They won't judge you."

Her sobs break apart into laughs. Then bleed back into slow, deep breaths.

Finally she whispers. "Can you...not tell Brandon?"

"Oh, trust me. I don't want my ass kicked."

She chuckles again. And then her voice takes on a strange tone. As if she is fully aware now that you are alone with her. "You...you got really..."

"Hard. Yeah. I'm a guy. Sorry. It just kind of happens."

"...but only if you like it, right?"

"Yeah," you say, examining the strange glint in her eye. "Yeah, only if I like it."

"Hmmm..." she grows very pensive. Her shoulders melt into your grip, just slightly. Then her face firms up as if remembering something, and she pulls away.

"We really need to get back to class before the bell rings while we're not there," she says.

"I don't think it matters that much," you say.

"It's one of my..." she gestures vaguely. "I don't know, my things."

She wipes away the tears and (admittedly) the snot from her face, and you offer paper towels to help her. She does have to blow her nose into one of them, and looks at you terrified for a second, but you signal as best you can that you are not judging her.

The two of you walk out of yoga class together. There isn't much time left, and you get the strong sense as the bell rings that you have not learned pretty much anything. But Alice smiles directly at you as she splits away afterward, walking to her next class.