With a gnash of his teeth and more laughter from me, we do exactly that. Coffee, blueberries, then yoga. As promised, in only my baseball jersey. And after fifteen minutes, when I lift myself to a final downward dog, he’s already behind me, running a hand along the curve of my ass and shifting my thong aside.
I look over my shoulder.
“No, no, don’t let me stop you,” he says with a grin before pressing two fingers inside.
We’re just lucky his backyard has tall fences.