Kama Sutra Workout Novels & Stories

“Daily sessions. Same time slot. Arrive already warm. No compression gear. The tissue responds better when nothing restricts full access.” I sat up slowly. The sheet clung for a moment to the damp place between my thighs before I could adjust it. The minor pull in my hamstring felt secondary now. The deeper, low pulse in my cunt had nothing to do with sprint mechanics and everything to do with the way his hands had lingered, the way he had watched my body answer without ever putting words to it, and the quiet authority in the instruction he had just given.

She could smell coffee and eggs as walked down the stairs. Finding the kitchen, she found a half naked Kamala busy frying the eggs. He dressed in black sweatpants.His muscles flexed as he kept flipping. His back was toned. She leaned on the door as she kept admiring him. "Staring won't do you any good," she heard Kamala say, but he was still doing his own thing. "Good morning" she said with a smile and walked forward. "Have some breakfast before we could go. We're leaving in thirty minutes" his voice was so distant. So cold. So icy. So rude.

Build it again. We cycled through settings, my instructions growing more frantic— 'Six, throb deep, grind in circles'; 'Seven, escalate while pumping fast, thumb my clit base-only'; 'Eight, erratic bursts, alternate clit and G-spot.' Each phase edged me mercilessly, orgasms bubbling to the surface only to be snatched away. Jax sweated too, muscles straining, cock purple and leaking, his torment mirroring mine as I forbade his touch. 'No jerking yourself— watch me suffer, know you're making it happen.'

Training wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t just push-ups and sprints. It was long hours of silence, breathing, tapping into something I couldn’t see. Luna guided me through meditative sessions in the forest, asking me to listen to the earth, the sky, the blood in my veins. I didn’t even know what that meant. Some days we trained physically, combat stances, dodging, counterstrikes. but other days, it was just me, standing still, eyes closed, trying to feel Amari inside me.

The fat head rubbed right over my swollen clit as he lowered himself in a slow, controlled push-up. “Oh fuck…” I whispered, biting my lip hard. He did another rep, grinding his massive length along my slit. The friction was insane. Every time he pressed down, his cock dragged perfectly over my clit, the thin material the only barrier between us. People walked past, nodding approvingly at our “intense core workout.” I was trembling, trying desperately not to moan. My nipples were rock hard against my sports bra. My pussy was dripping, soaking through my leggings as he kept doing slow, deliberate push-ups, rubbing his 11-inch cock against me.

Juices soaked his hand and the yoga mat beneath me as I came on camera, pretending it was just an intense stretch. Kai slowly pulled his fingers out, wiping them discreetly on his shorts before stopping the recording. I lay there trembling, chest heaving, my pussy still pulsing from the orgasm. Kai stood up, towering over me with a dark, hungry smile. “That was just warm-up,” he said, voice low and full of filthy promise. “Now turn off the camera… I’m going to ruin you for every other workout.”

Because no matter how hard I try to get rid of the dark, clouded aurora that last night in North Carolina left behind, it still lingers in my mind about the chaos and disaster we left behind at Oliver Epps's birthday party. "Sun salutation," I instruct to myself. I stretch my arms above my head and behind my shoulders into "waterfall" pose before bringing them in front of me, touching my toes, then at my sides while my legs stretch out into high plank, which is indubitably me just lying on the ground since I have no upper body strength whatsoever to hold myself up. When I push my arms straight and curve my back into "cobra," I then push into "downward dog" and exhale slowly.

Am also sure she noticed the hard on I had making a tent in my shorts. She didn't say a word. She then asked me what was the next thing on our agenda? I told her we need to do some stomach crunches for her abdomen. And told her that she would need to bend her knee and put her hands behind her head and touch her knees with her elbows without raising her feet of the ground. Mrs. Mehta got on her back, bending her knees and putting her hands behind the back of her head trying to touch her knees with her elbows but barely managed to rise.

Killain had wrapped my hair around his hand, twisting the long strands into a bun with deft fingers. My pulse slammed against my ribs. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound roared in my ears, deafening, drowning everything else out. I was still reeling when his voice rang out, cold and clipped. “Ten-kilometer sprint. One hundred push-ups. One hundred and fifty rollovers. You have twenty-five minutes. You begin… now.” The air exploded with movement. Clothes tore, fabric shredded, and the men around me shifted into their wolf forms, their bodies stretching, morphing, bones snapping as they lunged forward.

My tightened muscles loosened a bit. Amor laid on the grass. Placing his hands on sides and curling his knees, he raised his hips. “This is called hip thrust. It will help with all the tightened areas in your body.” He said, looking at me. “What are you waiting for? Do it.” That position looked a little… I averted my eyes from his hip. It was definitely indecent. He lowered his hip to the ground and sat, crossing his legs.