Tag Archives: hot yoga

Like really kick ass sex with no orgasm.

Every once in a while, I need to stroke my ego a bit and just be fuckin amazed with how far my body has come. A few years ago, I would have never dreamed of going to a hot yoga class. But now, after derby, Body Pump, MMA, why would I be afraid of any physical activity? So $5 Fridays at a new hot yoga studio? Fuck yeah. I’m going.

It was the best. Ever.

Like, really kick ass sex with no orgasm; you’re both so mentally in tune with each other that just the sweaty, beautiful sex is all you need. That’s what hot yoga is like. There’s a lovely scent in the room and every body is pouring sweat and the lights are dim, so you can’t really see. It’s just you and this beautiful black man’s soothing voice. At the end, the beautiful black man brings you a cold towel sprits with more of that lovely scent and I swear I almost cried. I felt, so fucking good.

I loved that I could do every pose without needing a break and not once did I need to breath through my mouth from exhaustion. I haven’t needed to think about Bertha in a long while, maybe she likes feeling kick ass too.