Krishna and Priya’s Wellness Love Story – Yoga, Care, and Intimacy in Hyderabad

I’m Krishna, a yoga teacher from Hyderabad, devoted to a holistic lifestyle. I practice and teach yoga daily, adhering to a raw, naturopathic diet. Every year or two, I retreat to the ********* Ashram in Vijayawada for a 15-day stay. This ashram, nestled beside the Krishna River, is a sanctuary of peace. The gentle ripples of the river blend with the rustle of palm trees, creating a serene atmosphere. Guided by Dr.********** teachings on natural health, the ashram attracts like-minded souls seeking wellness. My recent stay was particularly serene, filled with yoga, meditation, and meaningful bonds with people of all ages. One person who left a lasting impression was a woman named Priya, whose warmth stayed with me long after the retreat ended.

The ashram experience was purely wholesome—there was no hint of intimacy, only shared meals of sprouts and fruits, group yoga by the river, and discussions on naturopathy under the stars. Little did I know that Priya and I would reconnect in Hyderabad, sparking an intimate journey neither of us expected. Back in Hyderabad, my morning walks in a local park led to a joyful reunion. Priya’s radiant smile greeted me as she waved, “Krishna, your yoga sessions at the ashram were inspiring,” she said, her eyes bright. “Would you teach me privately?” Flattered, I agreed. Priya shared my naturopathic diet, and our daily yoga sessions at her home felt effortless. We practiced asanas on her balcony, the morning sun warming our skin, and shared stories over fresh coconut water. Our bond deepened through our shared values and mutual respect.

One rainy morning changed everything. Near Priya’s house, I found her struggling with her scooter, which had slipped on the wet road. Her kurta was muddy, and she winced in pain. “I twisted something,” she said, her voice strained. I lifted the scooter, helped her to a nearby bench, and offered my shoulder as we walked to her home. Her muddy kurta was hard to remove, so she called softly, “Krishna, can you help?” I eased it off her injured arm, my fingers brushing her skin as I unhooked her bra straps for comfort. She bathed and emerged with a towel wrapped around her breasts, pubic area, and buttocks. I helped her slip into a nighty, draping it over the towel, which she removed after. She lay on the bed, exhausted, as I massaged pain relief oil into her hand and leg, the camphor scent calming her. “Rest now,” I said, preparing fresh orange juice and serving her soaked nuts and sprouts she’d prepped the night before. We spent the day indoors, playing chess and laughing over childhood games like Ludo, replacing the five-stone games we played at the ashram due to her condition. Her resilience touched me, and I returned home that night, reflecting on our growing connection.

The next morning, Priya’s door was locked at 8 a.m. Concerned, I rang the bell and called out. She finally answered, feverish and drained. “I feel awful,” she murmured, collapsing onto the sofa. I carried her to bed, her body light in my arms, and gave her water. I wiped her face and body with a cool, wet cloth, the water soothing her fevered skin. We sat on her lawn, the sun’s warmth lifting her spirits, as I prepared honey-lemon water for her fasting—a naturopathic remedy we both trusted from our ashram days. For three days, I cared for her, massaging with pain relief oil, cleaning with warm cloths, and ensuring rest. Her fever faded, leaving mild aches, and I felt a quiet pride in helping her recover.

On the fourth day, Priya felt stronger. “Krishna, I’d love a hair and full-body massage, and a head bath with kunkudukayalu,” she said, her voice soft but inviting. I began with her hair, massaging virgin coconut oil into her scalp, my fingers tracing circles across her forehead and temples. She sighed, her body relaxing. I removed her nighty, and she lay on her stomach, comfortable in her nudity after days of care. Starting with her feet, I applied mustard oil mixed with camphor, using acupressure to ease tension. I massaged her calves and back with firm pressure, the oil’s warmth sinking into her skin. At her thighs, the air shifted. Using coconut oil, my fingers grazed her inner thighs, brushing her buttocks, anal area, and pussy. Priya parted her legs slightly, a sign of arousal. My thumb circled her anal hole, sliding to her clitoris and back. She lifted her hips, moaning, “Mmmm.” I continued, my fingers exploring her pubic area and navel, my wrist brushing her pussy and anal hole. In a semi-doggy position, I stimulated her clitoris with one hand and found her G-spot with the other, her moans intensifying. She gripped the bedsheets, her breathing quickening, and with a grunt, she reached a powerful orgasm, her body relaxing as she lowered her hips. I massaged the rest of her body, letting the oil soak in.

I prepared a bath with kunkudukayalu (soapnuts) for her hair and sunni pindi (ubtan) for her body. In the bathroom, I poured lukewarm water over her, washing her hair with the natural lather, its earthy scent filling the air. I scrubbed sunni pindi onto her skin with firm strokes, the exfoliation bringing a flush to her body. I wrapped her in a towel, dried her gently, and used sambrani dhoop to dry her hair, its aromatic smoke enveloping us. Feeling refreshed, I bathed with soapnuts and sunni pindi, the openness of my pores enhancing the freshness. I dried myself, wrapped a towel around my waist, and returned to Priya. Rejuvenated, we embraced, our bodies pressed close. Our kisses started sensual, growing fervent, hands and legs exploring every inch. I kissed her chin, neck, and cleavage, licking the skin above her breasts. I sucked her nipples, pressing the other breast, then switched, her moans urging me on. Holding her hands above her head, I licked her armpits, her body jerking with tingles. My tongue traced her ribs, navel, and pubic area. Blowing air on her pussy, I took her clitoris between my lips, sucking gently, then licked her vulva and vaginal entrance, pressing her breasts. Her expression showed pure pleasure.

With mutual consent, I wore a condom, applying aloe vera lube. In missionary position, I kissed her lips, guiding my penis to her vagina, inserting the tip. Continuing the kiss, I penetrated fully, pausing before moving in slow, rhythmic strokes. Breaking the kiss, I supported myself on my hands, increasing the pace as she moaned, “Mmmm.” In doggy style, I held her hips, thrusting harder, her moans turning to soft screams. I slapped her buttocks lightly, enjoying the view. Lying on my back, she kissed my lips and sucked my nipples, sending shivers through me. In cowgirl position, she rode me, her movements fluid. Hugging me, she lifted her body, and I thrust from below, her screams filling my ears, “Mmmm, aaaaa!” In a standing position, I carried her, fucking her as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Turning her around, I entered from behind, her hands held back, like riding a horse. Returning to missionary, we exhausted ourselves, fully satisfied. She slept on my chest, and we dozed like kids for 8–10 hours. This is just the beginning of our sensual journey. More chapters will follow. Please share your thoughts—I’d love to hear from you! @ krishnaconciousss@gmail.com