“Truska,” Darren grunted out his impromptu yoga instructor's name, sweat dripping out of his pores. “I told you I can’t bend that—GAH!” She pushed him deeper into the side split with unusually strong hands.
“Stretching good!” Barked the bearded woman. “Go further, yes?”
“No!” Darren cried.
But Truska surged down with all her strength, sending him into a pained falsetto. If he wasn’t sterile before—
“Uncle?” Darius called from outside the tent. “Is my dad in there with you…?”
Truska leaned down to Darren’s ear. “Flexible for husband?”
“Not a bloody word!” He seethed in a hushed scream.
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We can just call this the spiritual successor of Corps-á-corps ;3