The Crush

She ran her hand along her hair. “Ah.”

Soft music played from the television, where I could see the menu of her yoga DVD. Two lit candles sat on the mantel at each side of the TV.

“Is this what you do when we’re not home? Turn this place into your own little Zen kingdom?”

“Sometimes.” Her eyes twinkled. “You guys probably watch porn when you have the house to yourself. I do yoga for stress relief.”

I’m not going to touch that comment. Clearing my throat, I said, “Does it really work? This yoga? To calm you down?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s not just about stress reduction. This particular type is supposed to activate the spiritual energy at the base of your spine. It’s designed to help you rid yourself of your ego. It’s called cunnilingus yoga.”

What did she just say? “Say what?”

“Cunnilingus yoga,” she repeated.

What the fuck? “Pretty sure that’s not what it’s called, Farrah.”

Her eyes widened. “What did I just say?”

“You said cunnilingus yoga.”

She reached for the DVD cover on the couch and shook her head. “Kundalini!” Her face turned beet red. “Kundalini! I didn’t mean to say cunnilingus. I don’t know where that came from.”

“It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Shit.” She laughed.

“Although, I have to say, cunnilingus yoga would be very interesting.” Okay, I needed to stop. This was my best friend’s little sister, and I was going to hell for that innuendo.

She wiped her forehead. “Oh man.”

“Anyway, I’d better find my wallet.”

“Do you…want to try it with me?”

Try it? Cunnilingus? “Uh…yoga?” I stupidly asked.

She smiled shyly. “Yeah.”

“I would…but Nathan is waiting for me to pick up lunch.”

“I bet it would help you with all the stress you’re going through. Try it for five minutes. See if you like it.”

I looked over at the candles and back at her.

Am I crazy for entertaining this? “What the hell. Five minutes won’t kill me.”

Farrah’s face lit up. “Get down on the floor. Sit behind me so you can see what I do. Cross your legs. Take a deep breath in and just listen to the instructions.”

I must have been sick, because when she demanded that I get down on the floor, I continued to think nothing but dirty things. A vision of pulling off her yoga pants and going down on her flashed through my mind. Cunnilingus yoga.

This is Farrah we’re talking about. Cut the shit.

Sitting down, I crossed my legs as the guy in the DVD instructed. Farrah turned around to check on me, flashing her gorgeous smile. She was naturally beautiful. She didn’t have a drop of makeup on, and she certainly didn’t need it. And I was glad she didn’t wear any, because I preferred being able to see how her smooth skin changed colors when she was embarrassed. That happened a lot. Especially around me. I definitely had an effect on her, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get off on it a little. But I’d take that to the grave.

I watched the video, following Farrah’s lead for what I knew had to be more than my five-minute allotment. She was right. As I bent my body forward into child’s pose, I could tell this was calming me.

The short-lived peacefulness ended the moment the guy on the TV instructed us to get into a pose called triangle. That’s when I got into trouble. Farrah bent over in front of me, providing a clear view of her butt sticking straight in my face. Her pants were so tight that it almost looked like she wasn’t wearing anything, and I could easily make out the outline of her ass.

Christ.

Thank fuck I was behind her, because it turned out I had no control over my body’s reaction. I was so damn relaxed right before this, I hadn’t put my guard up, and my dick moved to fully erect before I had a chance to talk it down. I needed to get the fuck out of here before she turned around. It was bad enough that I’d just gotten hard over Nathan’s sister, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her notice.

I bolted toward the kitchen.

She called after me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess yoga really makes you have to go,” I hollered from the hallway.

Once in the bathroom, I locked the door behind me. Splashing some water on my face, I stared at myself in the mirror.

What is wrong with you?

I kept waiting for my stiffy to go down, but it wouldn’t. There was no way I could go back out there like this.

My phone went off. It was a text from Nathan.

Nathan: Where the hell are you?

Feeling like absolute shit, I typed.

Jace: Stuck in some traffic. Sorry.

I looked down at myself and decided that unless I did something about this, I’d be stuck in the bathroom for the rest of the day. Unzipping my jeans, I took out my swollen cock. Positioning myself over the toilet, I thought back to the visual that had gotten me here—Farrah bent over in front of me—and it took all of ten seconds to shoot my load. My orgasm might have been quick, but it was intense. Apparently, I needed to get laid. Meanwhile, Farrah probably thought I had yoga-induced diarrhea in here.