Yogini's Special Session

Eventually he found he didn't need to concentrate on his breath any more -- she was right, the world was breathing HIM now.

He let his mind explore the situation. She, too, was hairless where their skins contacted. Nice. His cock seemed to be expanding, growing, as if his entire consciousness were flowing into it, filling it, swelling it inside her as she steadily tightened her grip on him. Jerry had often spent time deliciously motionless inside his various women, but this was radically different: Kerleen's insides were as exquisitely trained as the rest of her body. She had started yoga at age six: he wondered when she'd begun THIS!? And who had taught her?

"Jerry..." She paused. "There are wonderful things you can learn to do, to establish and prolong the contact we can have with the All. You can learn to climax without ejaculation. To climax that way nonstop for as long as you wish. To join completely with your partner in the other vessel and experience twice the intensity of union that one can feel alone. To experience a prolonged ecstatic union of breath and body and soul. It will take time and thought and work on your part, but you can get there. I can already tell you have the capability. Otherwise we wouldn't be here, now."

Above him, she took on another slow, almost imperceptible rhythm, an external, whole-body one, not so much a rocking as a heartbeat-paced pressure downwards, subtle almost to the point of nonexistence, yet insistent as a distant drumbeat

He wiggled his hips gently, just once, and she tapped his nipples, whispered "Corpse!"

He stopped. His whole being was now concentrated in his cock, one living entity from tip to base, yet at the same time it seemed as if he could feel it expanding to suffuse the entirety of Kerleen, body and soul.

He wondered if she felt the same thing? If they were to discuss it, what terminology would one use? No words came to mind that would suffice.

He floated. How long had they been joined this way? It hadn't occurred to him to wonder until now, and he realized he hadn't the slightest clue. He hadn't come yet, didn't feel the urge to do so, but the pleasure bathing his whole body was extraordinarily intense. Had she come yet, and he failed to even detect it?? Or was she capable of coming continuously, non-stop? Was that, perhaps, what her internal contractions were all about?

He was utterly aroused, yet totally quiet - bemused, pleased, puzzled, and passively accepting. And he felt connected to Kerleen in some indefinably wonderful way, as if their central nervous systems and psyches both were blended together, the contact beginning where their bodies merged. Lingam and yoni as conduit for the intermingling of souls? Why not? What better way?

Her hands came down and alit softly on his, picked them up, guided them to her chest. His fingertips told him she was naked, as he'd suspected. She directed the cups of his palms over her almost non-existent breasts, whispered "Arms locked. Hold me up."

He did so, studied the textures. Hard muscles overlying delicate ribs. Thin fine skin like parchment, gliding over muscles and bone. Small, diamond-hard nipples atop quarter-cup mounds still solid and infinitely luscious to the touch. His fingertips slipped upwards into her armpits: her arms were extended overhead, urdha hasta, exposing her pits to his touch. He held his hands still, palms pressed to underarms: he studied their combined pose, eventually cupping her breasts again.

She was tiny between his hands. Like a little girl. An incredibly experienced, wonderfully trained, ancient little girl. She leaned into his support, changing the angle of their contact. Still there hadn't been a half-dozen strokes beyond the initial joining.

Amazingly, he knew he could do this forever: he didn't need to actually come. Or had he already done so? He couldn't tell. That sounded like nonsense: how could a man not be able to tell if he'd come? Time passed. He soaked in her, in them together.

Her hands came down, lifted the eye bag, dropped it beside his head. Opening his eyes seemed the right thing to do now, even without a command.

They stared into one another, unblinking, silent. There was nothing to be said. He let his eyes roam for a moment: the light was dim, but perfect. And she was timeless and gorgeous in her intense arousal. Mouth slightly open, perfect white teeth showing, long slow breaths changing the pressures of her breasts against his palms, of her belly against his.

In the dim light, her dark irises morphed into huge pupils. As they peered into one another, a soft white light seemed to ignite deep inside his belly, to gather strength from every cell in his body, and to flow and coalesce at the base of his spine.

They had been almost perfectly still: now she nodded slightly, and he understood. It was time. No, he hadn't climaxed yet, and YES, it was necessary. He sensed that she was in the same state.

She bit one edge of her lower lip, nothing more. It was like a signal, and with it his body began the most incredible, slow-motion explosion. Sensations poured into him, and out of him, like hot heavy syrup.

Kerleen's eyes rolled far back into her head, and she shuddered: inside her, a vacuum seemed to form and suck into itself every bit of the light and force he had collected. It flowed up through his cock in a blinding blue-electric torrent, and then, unbelievably, something in his belly seemed to reverse the process and it was almost an inhalation, a sucking in from her of some merged essence of them both. It flooded him from crown to toes, and he arched upwards, held himself there willy-nilly.

After some time, as ordinary consciousness returned, he discovered that despite carrying her weight, he was arched between heels and the back of his skull -- a pose impossible for him to do, but at the moment both proper, and trivially easy.

Very slowly he settled down on his back. She returned his hands to his sides, and sat atop him for a moment, then folded herself forward onto his chest, his cock still fully erect and buried inside her. She propped her head up with her chin on his sternum, and looked into his eyes.

He allowed himself to wrap her in his arms: she didn't protest.

A long silence, then she said "I haven't heard you say "STOP" yet. You're a good pupil." Then, long minutes later, still fully joined, she murmured "You know, Jerry, I really had no idea that my VESSEL was going to get carried away so thoroughly. I had intended to stop us well short of the finale, but then, I'm addicted to the vessel's pleasures! I hope you don't mind too much about my little lapse!"

He said nothing, just hugged her to him hard.

She accepted and understood.

He was still hard inside her when they finally, reluctantly uncoupled many minutes later. As she slowly removed herself from around him and stood astraddle his waist, nothing dripped from her as he would have expected, knowing he had deposited in her belly at least a week's worth of semen.

She was genuinely beautiful, Jerry thought to himself -- utterly ageless, totally sexual, totally sensual. He told her precisely that while she stood over him, and she smiled, nodded, whispered "Thank you for the compliments!"

Then he commented: "No drips!" Kerleen stepped clear of him, held out her hand to help him stand and said "No caring woman would ever lose a bit of such a wonderful gift!"

When they were dressed, he finally looked at the clock. It was almost midnight! Had they really spent nearly three hours locked together without thrusting, locked into what seemed to have been an ongoing, non-stop climax - an enormously prolonged orgasm with one very definite supreme moment, granted, but nonetheless ONE?

He pondered the problem of parting, and of his behavior when returning for his normal class.

She solved the problems for him. "Jerry, if you're interested, we can continue these special lessons, separately from your formal classes. These special asanas actually are a major part of some yogic traditions, you know. Including my own"

She smiled at him, gently fondled his still half-inflated lingam. "As I said earlier, you have a talent for the topic. You did extremely well tonight. I would like to pass on some more of this specialized knowledge to you. If you're truly interested, that is. Perhaps we could reserve, say, Thursday evenings right here for our private practice. That wouldn't interfere with your regular class."

Jerry was ecstatic, and agreed instantly.

As he opened the door to leave, he grinned at her and said "If a pupil may ask a master for a favor, perhaps one of the lessons, fairly soon, might involve having me in adho mukha padmasana and you in yoganidrasana."

That arrangement would put Jerry in a lotus-seat with forward bend from the waist, bringing his face close to the floor. Or close to something that was itself near the floor. She would be on her back with feet crossed behind her head, with hands under her buttocks to prop them up significantly. The possibilities were obvious, and endless.

She looked at Jerry for a long, long moment, enough to make him wonder briefly if he had done something to offend.

But no: finally, she smiled up at him and replied "Again, you surprise and please me! I agree. Sometime very, very soon. Perhaps even next Thursday. Agreed?"

Jerry agreed, his enthusiasm obvious.

She smiled at him gently, put one fingertip on his breastbone, and said "Arrive with empty bladder and bowels, Student. In your second lesson you will start learning to reciprocate."