Playing with Dolls

“Dahyun, honey, what are you doing?” You ask with mild amusement.

“Yoga.” Her voice is cheerful, stating the obvious. She is sitting on a yoga mat and has one leg bent in front of her, heel touching the other thigh, which is pushed behind her body. Her other leg is also bent but pointing up, toes resting on her arm. Her two hands are clasped behind her head to turn her into a beautiful display of flexibility and–

“This one’s called 'The Mermaid'. Do you like it?” A teasing smile appears on her lips, and she has the audacity to bat her eyelashes at you after that question. 

You take a moment to pull all of your blood back to the correct head, you know, the one with its mouth agape, before you speak.

“Sure, but… why are you naked?”

She smiles despite obviously trying not to. That beautiful, wide, signature Dahyun smile that would take your breath away if you weren’t staring at her tits.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice carried all of the amusement her smile was showing, and if it were a tad bit more serious, you might have believed her. That is just how her body worked; one look and you lose half of your IQ points on the spot.

Your eyes didn’t even know where to begin. She was all smooth, perfect white skin decorated only by a few carelessly thrown freckles for you to kiss. 

One was on her thigh, which was stretching and flexing in order to maintain the pose. Those legs were strong; you’d know. Years of yoga, Pilates, dancing and other extracurricular activities you actually participated in resulted in thick thighs that could bounce on your skin for hours. But they were also so soft. Every part of her somehow was. It’s like her sweet personality was also ingrained beneath her skin to make it mind-numbingly pliant and plush.

Another freckle was on her tummy. Low. Like, dangerously low. You could barely see the pink beginnings of her folds, no more than a couple inches away from it. When your eyes roamed up, they went over her tight and slim abdomen, taking only a slight detour to drink in the flare of her hips. To compare, of course. The comparison was unfair. They were “nature’s handlebars”, is how she referred to them. Wide and soft and truly oh so lovely to hold.

Her waist, in contrast, was impossibly small. Perfect for you to wrap an arm around, with plenty of arm to spare, when you pound into her tight, soft, wet—

You’re getting ahead of yourself.

She had two identical freckles on either side of her ribs because God apparently loves symmetry and Kim Dahyun. Her ribcage swells with each breath, her handfuls of breasts moving in tandem – rising and falling in calm, even rhythm. The only other parts of her skin which aren’t pristinely white are her pink areolas and pebbled nipples.

This only makes her pitch-black hair, now in a perfect ponytail, and dark brown eyes, now filled with lust, stand out more. She closes said eyes and parts her mouth in a moan while pulling her muscles taut. Fuck, her tits are pushing up now, ribs flairing and her lips look so kissable.

The view was absurdly hot, your cock hard; no need to beat around the bush.

But Dahyun didn’t share that sentiment. She never had. That’s why she is naked in your living room pretending that she is doing yoga for any other sake than getting pounded into next Thursday.

But years with her have taught you that she loves the game and will make up any random or weird scenario to use as foreplay. 

You learnt to love it too; it's inevitable.

“So you are just doing yoga? Just regular, completely non-nude yoga?” You manage to tear from your throat after what felt like forever because time stops when Dahyun strips.

“Honey, I have no clue what you are talking about. I am clearly just doing yoga, completely clothed and normal.” She nods her head and looks up at you, tits still very much out. 

“Hm. Understandable. Would you mind if I join you?” You can’t help the slight smile that you add.

“But you don’t even like yoga.” She releases the pose with a soft exhale that results in you white-knuckling the table on which you are leaning. Her legs cross, and you get a glimpse of her shaven pussy and her parted lips.

“I feel like trying something new. Besides, yoga always makes you so… perky. It sounds fun.” 

She stands up, and her forehead barely reaches your chin, but her eyes are locked on yours with a challenge.

“But you don’t even have yoga clothes.” Her voice is so sweet and teasing it takes every single iota of restraint you possess to not strip and fuck her silly right then and there.

“I think I will figure it out." 

Dahyun’s head nods slightly to the right, and her ponytail sways in agreement.

“Yoga mat’s right there." Simple and confident, almost absurd on her petite, naked frame but completely on-brand for her petite, naked frame.

Of course she had set it up beforehand.

You take the mat from the corner of the room and lay it on the floor next to hers. She follows your every movement, body pointing towards you as if trying to show off.

You take your shirt off and toss it on the couch. Dahyun's eyes widen slightly as they begin wandering over your skin with similar hunger to the one in yours mere seconds ago. Your pants follow suit to reveal a large strain against the (now) tight cotton underwear you have on. It too falls, but Dahyun doesn’t even wait for your boxers to hit the floor before she exclaims.

“Honey, where did you get this yoga outfit from? It looks so good on you!”

This time, you can’t help the amused huff you’ve been fighting ever since you entered the room.

“I just found it somewhere in the closet. It’s very lucky it matches yours, though.”

“Hmmm, no, mine’s brown, yours is blue; pay attention.” She says dryly, like it’s obvious.

The fucking audacity of this woman.

She kneels in front of you, face inches away from your cock, and all of your pattern-recognising neurones fire, screaming at you to tangle your hands in her hair. The rational, if you can even call it that, part of you, the one that loves Dahyun and is willing to play “totally not naked, but actually naked yoga” with her, stops them.

“Ok, so, since it’s your first time, we should begin with something simple,” she says, smiling up at you through your cock.

“This one’s called ‘the butterfly’. Just stick the soles of your feet together and pull them towards your pelvis.” She does as instructed as you sit down. The new position offers you a great view of her wettening folds and even the perfect excuse of just watching her feet. To execute the pose properly, of course.

You try to follow along but are not quite as flexible as she is. She begins bouncing her thighs softly, the motion making the rest of her body bounce. It is hot and tempting and cruel to make you pretend she isn’t right there and wet.

“You can even, ah, pop your chest out a bit to get a nice, deep stretch down at your pelvis.”

And so she does, offering her tits up for you to try not to stare at. You obviously fail miserably. You don’t even try to follow along. A, because you are pretty sure you would need a trip to the ER if you tried to, and B, because your brain did not register anything after her moan as coherent human language.

The room feels hotter, your cock harder and even Dahyun has her signature red flush while staring at you. It is a standoff, a poor attempt at a war of attrition with no true loser – you looking like a naked guy's first time doing yoga, because it is, and her looking like a goddess teasing all the precum out of you, because she is.

You are starstruck, not even holding your ankle at this point. And so she clears her throat before speaking, voice playful and seductive, like she has an ace up her ass (because she has no sleeves).

“Ok, next pose! This one’s called ‘the downward-facing dog'. It’s simple, but make sure to pay attention to how I do it.” 

So she gets up and turns around, her back facing you. She leans forward and –

“HOLY FUCK!” You fake a cough, doing your best to keep pretending, as if it matters at this point.

“Everything ok, honey?” There is no concern, only saccharine teasing.

“Yeah, yeah… Just, uh, had something stuck in my throat, is all.” You can’t look forward; you’d break in an instant.

A fucking buttplug. That’s what Dahyun actually has stuck in her ass. A purple jewel poking out between her soft white cheeks, right above her wet pink slit. Her back arches, and you are positive that it isn’t how the pose usually goes, but you don’t object. You don’t know shit about yoga, and you might not even know your own name right now.