Early Bird Yoga - Episode 4

She woke before dawn. The room stayed dark, only the faint spill of streetlight cutting across the sheets. He lay beside her, mouth parted, skin still warm from sleep. She touched his hip first. A slow, deliberate press of her palm. Then lower. She found him half-hard already and curled her fingers around the weight of him. He stirred but didn't open his eyes. She stroked once, twice, feeling him thicken in her hand until he was rigid and heavy against her palm. When he reached for her she climbed over him, knees bracketing his ribs. She took him in both hands and guided him between her folds, dragging the head along her slit until she was slick enough to take him. She sank down in one long, controlled motion. The stretch pulled a low sound from her throat. She stayed still for a moment, letting her body adjust, then began to move. Small rolls of her hips at first, then deeper, slower thrusts that dragged every inch of him against her inner walls. His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to leave marks. She leaned forward, braced her palms on his chest, and rode him with steady rhythm, breath hissing between her teeth each time she bottomed out. Sweat gathered at the small of her back. He thrust up to meet her and she met him harder, the wet slap of skin filling the quiet room. When she came she didn't slow. She clenched around him and kept moving, forcing him to follow. He spilled inside her with a broken groan, hips stuttering, fingers digging into her skin. She stayed seated on him until the tremor left his body, then eased off. The sheets were damp beneath them. Neither spoke. Morning light was already touching the blinds.