Namaste Yoga

John could see it. Or feel it. "Ask me, Emmy. Ask me or I won't do it." He whispered it in her ear.

"Strip me, John." She responded quietly, turning to kiss him. "Strip me naked in front of these people."

When he hesitated, she opened her eyes to look at him, confused. "No," she said. "No, John. Please. I asked. Just do it." He stared at her, his fingers moving slowly to the knots on her top. "Please," she hissed.

"Let them hear you, Emmy. Let me know you really want this." His fingers held the end of the strings behind her neck.

She closed her eyes and felt a rush of arousal. What a prick! Fuck! Why now? Why does he decide to push me now? Why do I do it? "John," she said loud enough for Greg and a couple of others to hear, but looking only at him "strip me naked. Expose me. Show me off."

He rewarded her with a smile and gently kissed her before turning her face to look at her audience. Diane and Anna had stopped playing around, sitting up on the side of the pool, their legs spread, resting back on their elbows. Emmy couldn't tell which woman's breasts were bigger, but they were much bigger than hers. A third woman had joined. She had darker skin, her breasts were small with large areolas. She was shorter than the others and Emmy could barely make out a dark triangle below the pool's surface. All of the men had turned to look at her, their eyes glinting with lust. She could see their erections growing and she shook her head slightly. Oh fuck. Fuck. This is so stupid! Stupid!!!

But she felt John's fingers pulling on the strings, the cool night air brushing her naked skin as the bra fell across her belly and then, as he pulled the back knot open, to the floor. She felt her nipples harden, both from the cold and the exposure, the nakedness; being on display. She could feel the heat of her blush spreading across her face even though she knew no one could see it in the dark.

And then his fingers were at her hips, each pulling slowly on the knots holding the fabric triangles over her unshaved mound. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, but forced herself to look at them looking at her, searching for any judgment. And then she was naked, the tiny covering barely covering her feet. She didn't dare to look down, for fear of drawing their eyes to look even closer at her, to see the tattoo, to see her tiny breasts as she saw them. The image of lying on the beach with her girlfriends, her pubic hair wispy and barely grown in overwhelmed her.

She knew it wasn't much thicker than that now, but she had always trimmed it since then. Except, in this case she hadn't. She hadn't known he was going to ask her to come to a pool party until the last moment and he didn't give her a chance to shave. And she certainly hadn't planned on this. But she was even more concerned about the fox and what it meant to these strangers.

He turned just her face to look at him, lifting her chin to give her a kiss, leaving her naked and exposed to the group. She could barely hear the cat-calls and hoots from the couples over the heartbeats rushing in her ears. She felt his fingers trailing down her neck and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue wrestled with hers. His fingers kept moving down the top of her left breast, lingering on her nipple, fingering it, pressing it, making it harder. She moaned and wanted to pull away, but he had her. Just as she had always asked for it. Exposed. At his mercy. Even her anxiety about the tattoo was lost in her arousal.

Her hands still held her drink. She needed to set it down, but he kept her prisoner, his fingers continuing down her stomach to the top of her triangle. He pulled on the hairs, calling attention to how thin and wispy her bush was, his other hand pushing against the back of her head, pressing her lips against his. The image of melted candle wax always came to her. His flame melting her, making her compliant. And then she jerked, embarrassed and moaning, and his finger lightly flicked across her clit.

OH MY GOD! He's finger fucking me in front of these strangers! FUCK!!!

But she didn't pull away. She pushed against him, shoving her tongue into his mouth, begging him with her body to humiliate her, to push her over the top. She had never orgasmed in front of strangers. The thought hit her and she felt her stomach cramp, knowing it was possible, thinking it was possible, wanting it to happen. She pushed against his finger to urge him, silently, to fuck her, to spread her lips and expose how wet she was. She knew she was drunk. She didn't care. She knew her breasts were small. She didn't care. She knew the tattoo made her out to be a slut. She. Didn't. Care. She would cum in front of them. Fuck them. With their taunts and mock fights.

She felt his finger slide into her and she moaned, spreading her legs for him, exposing her cunt to her audience. She slid down onto him, forcing him deeper into him, then sliding back to feel his finger rub against her clit. She took his tongue as deeply as she could.

Someone took the drink from her hand, but John wouldn't let her go. She felt hands on her feet, pulling her legs apart, but he wouldn't let her see who it was. When she felt two lips first kissing the fox and then pressing against her cunt, she struggled slightly, but his right hand was firm against her neck. His left hand pulled hers into his trunks to stroke his hard-on: hot, stiff. She wanted him to fuck her and she moaned at the thought. The lips were followed by a tongue, and she knew it was the dark woman, without seeing her. She shivered. The image of Sharon and Willow came back in force.

He pulled from her lips and held her, staring into her eyes, forcing her to feel the woman press against her sex. He knew. He knew. "Say it." It was as much a question as a direction. She moaned, not wanting to look away from his face. "Ask me."

She licked her lips, feeling the woman stroke her, feeling the hands on her legs, feeling his cock in her hands. OH GOD OHGODOHGODI'MREALLYDOINGTHIS!!!

"Fuck me," she whispered. And then more loudly, knowing he'd demand it. "Fuck me!"

He shifted position behind her, forcing her hand out of his trunks. She could feel him take them down, his cock bouncing against her ass cheeks. His hands came to her cheeks, turning her to look at the pool. She glanced down to confirm it was the woman she had imagined: her dark hair waterfalled across her back, her face pushed between Emmy's legs.

At least, that's the way she had wanted it to be. She could feel how wet she had made herself, imagining what he had been doing to her. Her fantasy evaporated like the mist over the pool, her thoughts confused by the intensity of it.

"You okay?" John looked down at her. "Maybe you've had enough?"

She just smiled stupidly and crouched down to sit on the edge of the tile, risking exposing the tattoo if not her pussy, sipping her drink. "I'm 'lright," she mumbled, feeling moisture oozing out of her. She stared at the guys' erections and the naked women, letting her feet dangle in the hot water. She knew she was giving them a little show, most of the fox exposed, the bikini barely covering her lips, sliding into her folds. She didn't close her legs, but rested her thighs, spread slightly, letting her calves dangle into the frothing water. She knew, if they were paying attention, they could smell the perfume from her soaking pussy over the chlorine in the air.

"You going to join me?" John had slipped off his trunks, his cock waving near her face. She almost gave in to the urge to lean over and kiss it, but held back.

Too much! Too fucking much!

She shook her head and looked into the water, watching Greg's penis pushing out like a periscope as he stared at the three women playing with each other. "Not yet. Maybe in a minute."