Tony and Carlos are voided urine that their trainer sent ’em to yoga class.
“Next thing you know, we’ll be doing banging ballet or smth.”
“What’s up with tutor? Why are we here for yoga?”
But then their instructor unveils up. It’s 51-year-old Jenna Covelli. Jenna has shown up for class in short, blue shorts and a cut-off tank top with no brassiere. Her areolas are hard. Her cum-hole is pulsating. That babe stretches and brandishes off her incredible flexibility. She receives her legs all the way back and spread. This is a yoga pose? Bears a resemblance to a “fuck-me” pose. But, despite Jenna’s obvious MILFosity, the men are so anti-yoga that they refuse to receive with the program. Jenna has a solution. “We must be more in-tune with our yoga,” she says, “and in dictate to do that, we must absolutely disclose ourselves.”
She actually means “reveal.” She takes off her shirt. “You need to follow,” that babe says. This babe takes off her shorts. “Let’s flaunt our skin so we can receive more oxygen,” she says. They take their shorts off. Jenna takes notice that, if not oxygen, blood is rushing to their ramrods. This yoga class is about to become very gripping. Jenna bends over to demonstrate downward dog. Carlos slides his rod into her fur pie. Tony slides his pecker into her mouth. Namaste.