Early Bird Yoga - Episode 1

She rolled out of bed before the sun. The city outside her window still hummed with night noise. Her studio floor felt cold under bare feet. She moved into the first pose without thinking, the way her body always knew what came next. Her tank slipped off one shoulder. The fabric caught on the curve of her breast. No bra, not at this hour. Her nipples tightened against the thin cotton as she bent forward, hands sliding down her shins. The stretch burned sweet across the backs of her thighs. On the next exhale she widened her stance. The shorts rode up. Cotton pressed tight against her cunt. She felt the seam drag along her slit, damp already, and smiled at the slow pulse that started low in her belly. The mirror caught everything—her ass lifted, back arched, the outline of her lips pressed against the pale fabric. She dropped to her knees, rolled her hips in small circles. The mat smelled like rubber and sweat and yesterday's lavender oil. Her hands moved between her legs without hesitation, pressing the heel of her palm against her clit through the shorts. She rubbed once, twice, enough to make her breath hitch. Then she stopped. Let the ache build. The fabric stayed damp. By the time she reached downward dog, her thighs were trembling. Sweat gathered at the small of her back. It trickled lower. The shorts clung. When she lifted one leg high behind her, the movement pulled everything tight again—her lips parted slightly against the seam, the wet spot darker now. She finished on her back. Legs spread wide. One hand slid beneath the waistband. Two fingers slipped easily inside. She was soaked. The first thrust drew a soft sound from her throat. Her free hand squeezed her breast, thumb brushing the nipple, while her hips rocked against her fingers. The orgasm rolled through slow and steady, like warm water filling a glass. She kept her eyes open the whole time, watching her reflection in the half-light.