Jerry Tucker had been doing the same thing he had been for the last 40 years: working diligently at Home Depot. He had made it all the way from cashier to floor manager, and though he had been offered other promotions in the past, the last thing he wanted to do was work in some office somewhere when he could be here on the floor, helping people pick the right flooring for their new bathroom. Yep, it brought a smile to his face to know that his labor was having a physical impact on the world that could be touched and felt.

Plus, he knew that he was making more than enough money so that his loving, traditional, Christian wife, Hailey, could stay home comfortably, take care of the house, and—before they became empty nesters—take care of their children.

But while he was at that shift, which was identical in almost every way to all of his previous shifts, back home, Hailey Tucker was about to have a very unusual day, which started with a knock at the door.

Hailey—or Mrs. Tucker, as the neighborhood kids called her—was in the middle of doing her yoga, so she was dressed in a pair of tight black leggings with a glossy feel and her pink Nike sports bra, which held her substantial breasts tightly against her, under a loose white athletic tank top. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail, fully revealing her beautiful yet older face with slight wrinkles around the eyes and smile lines from a happy life. She was in the cobra pose with a slight sheen of sweat over her when the knock happened. She went over to check through the peephole and saw one of the neighborhood teens, Marty Grayson.

She and Marty had a bit of a history. He had famously put a hole into the fence between their backyards in order to get a better view of her daughter and her friends lounging by the pool. Another time, the young Marty had asked to come over because his parents weren’t home, but when she wasn’t looking, he had snuck into her room and stolen a pair of her panties. She had him thrown out and hadn’t allowed him back since. She was a Christian woman, so she believed in forgiving and forgetting, but it had been one incident too many—especially with their daughter around. After all, Hailey could handle herself, but it was a mother’s job to protect her children.

The kid himself was nothing special: short and skinny with just a basic T-shirt and jeans. Hailey was sure that if he spent the same amount of time working on himself as he did lusting for women, he would be a decent-looking young man who could have himself a girlfriend. He had shaggy brown hair and matching eyes. In his hands, he had two glasses of what looked to be lemonade.

“Mrs. Tucker!” he shouted through the door. “It’s Marty! Marty Grayson! My family made fresh lemonade and I was wondering if you wanted some. I understand if you don’t.”

She could pretend to not be home, but she had always prided herself on being a nice person, and all she had to do was open the door and accept this lemonade; then, maybe this boy could prove her wrong. She opened the closet door near the front entrance, pulled out a large, oversized sweater that would cover her behind as well as her breasts, and opened the door halfway. “Hey, sweetie,”—she called everyone sweetie—“how can I help you?”

He looked rather nervous; it had been a while since the last time he tried to talk to her, so maybe he just didn’t want to mess things up again. His shaking voice said, “I made lemonade from some of the lemons in our garden, and my mom thought I should share it with you, so here I am.” She reached her arm out and grabbed it. She gave it a smell and it really did smell quite nice; plus, it was a hot day, so lemonade seemed like the perfect treat. “Thank you,” she said genuinely. “This looks delicious.” She started to close the door.

“Wait!” Marty shouted before the door could fully close. He held up his glass of lemonade in his hand and said, “Cheers?” Reluctantly, she agreed as their glasses clicked together, and she brought that cold, delicious lemonade to her mouth—just a sip.

“That’s very tasty, sweetie. You have yourself a heck of a recipe there.” She was impressed; she didn’t think that Marty had any sort of talent, but maybe there was a future for this kid in the food industry. She started to close the door, but he stopped it with his foot.

“Mrs. Tucker, before I go, would you mind if I finish off my lemonade inside so the ice doesn’t melt and get it all watered down on my way home?”

That seemed a little silly, but she also hated watered-down lemonade, so she thought about it for a second. However, her daughter was supposed to be coming home from college in the next couple of days, so she really didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable with Marty being inside their house. “I hate when my lemonade gets watered down too, but unfortunately, it’s kind of a mess in here right now, so maybe you can just walk fast home and hope for the best,” she said with her kind smile and beautiful blue eyes.

“Well, if you hate when your lemonade gets watered down, then maybe you should have another sip.”

“Great idea, Marty,” she said as she downed another big gulp of lemonade. So yummy.

“Mrs. Tucker, are you still going to let me in?”

“Let you in?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted to let me in so that I could finish my lemonade.” His foot started tapping rapidly against the ground, and Hailey’s face became a questioning one before she finally found her words. “Right, yes, so your lemonade doesn’t melt.” She opened the door wide. “Come on in, sweetie. Feel free to sit down until you finish your lemonade.” She was still careful to keep an eye on him; there was nothing wrong with him being in the house as long as he never left her sight.

She let him into their house. It was a beautiful three-story with a nice open floor plan. The front door led to the second story where their living room, bar area, and unofficial workout room were located—so named because of their 60-inch TV on the wall and Hailey’s love for at-home workout videos. She led him to a barstool while she stood by, and they both sipped at their lemonade while making small talk.

“Hey, it looks like you were doing some yoga before I came in,” he said, pointing at the mat on the floor. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It would be kind of awkward to work out with you here.”

“Why?” he asked. “You love doing your yoga when I’m here since I’m such an expert.”

For a second, she was stunned, then she let out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Marty. Sometimes I forget that you’re a professional yoga instructor.” She headed straight toward the mat. “Do you want me to just play the video again, sweetie?”

“Yes, I will just be an observer.” She played the video and went straight into cobra before going into a downward dog, and then running through a few other positions.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Tucker, are you forgetting something?”

She turned to him, her feet spread wide apart and arms wide as well. “Forgetting something?”

“How am I supposed to make sure your body is making proper lines if I can’t see your body properly?”

The sweater. She had almost forgotten that she had it on to avoid his wandering eyes, but she supposed that that was just an occupational hazard of having the neighborhood perv as your yoga instructor. At least the classes were free—at least she thought they were free, because they had been doing them for a while and she couldn't remember paying him.

“Hey,” she asked as she removed her sweatshirt, revealing her tank top and sports bra, “this is a silly question, but how much do I pay you for these sessions?” She continued to move her body with the video. As was to be expected, Marty was now very distracted as she dropped into a deep squat. She quickly stood back up and decided to only commit to less attractive poses. He could observe her plenty without her doing some of the crazier poses.

“Oh, also, you don’t care when I look at you because you know I’m only doing it for yoga purposes or whatever.” There she went being silly again. Of course, normally him staring straight at her behind while she’s bent over would be inappropriate, but he’s a true professional, so she had to trust him as she went down and touched her toes, legs spread. “And as far as payment goes, I think we settled somewhere around $300 a session, and we do this once or twice a week.”

“That seems a little steep,” she said, her head between her legs.

“Well, I wanted to do them for free, but you were so happy with your instruction that you insisted on paying me $300. In fact, you’re actually short from last week.”

Now that he mentioned it, she did remember being so happy with his coaching and that she was happily paying him $300. Maybe sometimes even a little extra if she was feeling generous. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, standing up and going over to her purse. She always kept some hundred-dollar bills in a hidden pocket, just in case. She pulled out $400 cash and handed them to Marty. “Here you are, Marty, and I will PayPal you the rest with some interest.”

“You’re too kind to me, Mrs. Tucker. And you don’t mind me touching you to make sure that your yoga is working right?”

She thought about it for a second as she pulled out her phone and typed in his username. She sent him $400. “No, of course not. You’re my instructor.”

“And Mr. Tucker wouldn’t mind?”

She seemed almost offended by the question. “Of course not. He knows you’re my instructor, that you’ve done a great job, and I’m a good Christian woman, so he knows I would never be unfaithful to him.”

“Right,” he said, taking a firm grasp of her behind. “Your glutes feel pretty good.” He gave her booty a couple of slaps.

“Hey! There is a difference between touching my body for yoga purposes and blatantly slapping my ass, young man. I knew I shouldn’t have let you into the house. Just because you’re my yoga teacher doesn’t mean you can touch me however you want.”

He put his hands up defensively. “Calm down, Mrs. Tucker. Have some lemonade.” She took a big sip. “You’re being an idiot right now. You remember when you called me an idiot pervert for stealing your panties? Well, right now you’re being an idiot. I’m just doing the old booty slap test. All the professional yoga instructors know it.”

“I—I—I’m sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t mean to be such an idiot.” She turned around to give him easier access, with her voluptuous ass facing him. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” Marty said, his eyes narrowing as he watched her sway slightly left and right, her soft cheeks begging to be grabbed.

“But I want to be the best student for you, Marty.” She looked over her shoulder with a pout, “I want to be a good student for you. Please, just do it.” She bent forward, presenting her ass. He reached out and gave it a bunch of mini slaps followed by one big one which caused her cheeks to jiggle.

“Hell yeah, that looks great.”

She didn’t approve of the language, but she was happy to hear that he approved, “Thank you, Marty.” She went back to the mat now to continue her lessons while her teacher and neighbour watched from the sidelines. How lucky was she that the same kid who could barely pass an Algebra class when her daughter was tutoring him, had at some point become a yoga master. “How’s this she asked?” Stretching her arms out behind her back, causing her breast to push forward. He stood up from his barstool and leered straight at her tits.

“Hold it, while I perform the titty grab test. Super common stuff for Yogi’s like me.”

“Right, yes. Of course. Go ahead.” He didn’t need her permission as his hands took a firm grab of her large melons.

“Mmmm” He was visibly hard, and trying to suppress a smile as he continued, “You know what, this would be easier if you took off that top so I could get a good look at those MILF titties.”

“Hey! You cannot-”

“It’s yoga terminology and you love when I compliment your body. It makes you horny.”

“Right I forgot,” she said as she stripped out of her top and sports bra in one fell swoop allowing for her big titties to catch in the shirt and then drop with a large bounce onto her chest. They had a nice weight to them, and pointed in opposite directions. She had only shown her breasts to her doctor and husband up until this point, but she shook it slightly and gave the girls a squeeze hoping Marty would compliment her MILFY tits.

Marty didn’t even bother trying to sound smart anymore. His eyes were wide, fixed on her bouncing chest. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Now take off the pants.” he took out his phone and started taking pictures and videos, causing her to hide her body again. “ well, don’t cover up, have some more lemonade.” he handed her her glass. “ You were the one who said you wanted to document your yoga journey on private websites that I set up, I’m just doing what you asked me and exchange for your car.”

She had nearly finished off the large glass by now as she wiped out her mouth. “I do remember, saying that, “she said, dropping her arms by her side so that her nice titties were visible to all the yoga fanatics out there. I don’t know why I felt embarrassed about having my breast out “she laughed.

“ I know right?” He said. “Isn’t it so silly? A good Christian milf like you, you should love to show what God gave you. Now squeeze those tits, stick that tongue out and give me a cheeky wink.”

She did as he instructed, even going a step beyond and bringing one of her breast up towards her mouth and giving her nipple a lick. She remembered doing that at some point for someone, but she couldn’t remember if it was for her husband or during a previous yoga session, but this seem like the right time. Marty definitely seem to like it as he cheered her on taking hundreds of pictures of her in the short time span, making sure to get that cross hanging between the curves of her inner breast. “Now the pants, come on Mrs. Tucker.”

Hailey paused, her hands hovering near her hips. “The leggings too? But Marty, I don’t think—”

“Do you want to be flexible or not?” he snapped, acting like a bratty teenager who was losing his patience. “The spandex is... uh... it’s suffocating your leg-chakras. If you keep them on, your muscles will literally turn to stone. Is that what you want? Plus, think of the followers. People love to see a woman who’s not afraid to show what the good Lord gave her”

“Oh my, no,” Hailey whispered, the lemonade making his lazy explanation sound like a terrifying medical fact. She didn't hesitate another second. She hooked her thumbs into the glossy waistband and peeled the leggings down, kicking them away along with her panties. She stood there completely naked, her mature, heavy curves fully exposed to the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. “Better?”

“Way better. Now, get on the mat and shake that ass for me and your followers. This is an old yoga thing that they used to do, they called it being a perverted idiot whore who should’ve just let her neighbour keep her panties.”

“ that sounds awfully wordy”

“ yeah, but who are we to judge the Indian language, Now go twerk.”

Hailey nodded obediently. She turned around, bent over so her massive, pale backside was aimed right at him, and began to shake it. She wasn't a professional dancer, but she put her whole heart into it, her cheeks slapping and jiggling rhythmically as he filmed and cheered her on.

Marty’s breathing was heavy now. He wasn't even pretending to watch her form; he was just fumbling with his own belt. “Alright, stop. Get on your knees.”

“Why?”

“My umm chakras are blocked.”

Hailey looked at him, he pulled his pants down. It seemed like a lot of responsibility, but she was a good woman who always helped those in need. “I wouldn't want you to have your chakras blocked, sweetie.”

She dropped to her knees on the mat, her naked body pressed against the floor as she reached out. She took him into her hands, following his bratty, impatient directions as she worked to "realign" him. Marty didn't even use yoga words anymore; he just grunted and pushed her head down, his eyes glazed with perverted triumph. She started slow but wanted to be great for her coach. 

“I’m going to finish,” he said, his legs tightening. “Swallow it, it’ll help your fucking chakras, slut.”

“Yessir,” she said as he buckled.

And the front door clicked open.

“Mom? I’m home! I decided to—"

Megan Tucker, Hailey’s daughter, froze in the entryway, her suitcase sliding from her hand and hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Her jaw dropped as she looked into the living room. There was her mother, the traditional, Christian woman who raised her, stark naked on the floor, clutching the neighborhood perverts hard cock, and licking it up.

Hailey didn't look shocked or ashamed. She didn't even move to cover herself. She just looked up at her daughter with a blissful, glazed expression, her hand still wrapped firmly around Marty.

“Heeeey!” she chirped, her voice bubbly and muffled by a mouthful of Marty’s "energy." She gave a cheerful little wave with her free hand. “You’re just in time, sweetie! Marty was just helping me with my yoga if you want to join!”