My Yoga Teacher, Pt. 2

Monday the 27th, 3:56 pm

"Hey, hey!"

Diane slips off her shoes after she enters the front door. "Look at you starting early!"

Evan smiles at her through the mirror. He stands in the Warrior position, a light sweat already on his skin, practicing in his navy-blue boxer briefs. His left arm points at his reflection, his left leg bent, thigh parallel to the floor. Since the Dark Root Session, which he's neither forgotten nor spoken of, he's devoted himself to self-control throughkundalinipractice. Weeks of yoga have made him surer on his feet, his breath steadier, his body stronger than he ever remembers it being. He straightens into Mountain pose, then relaxes, watching her.

"Sorry I'm running so late," she says, walking toward the far corner. "Goddamn bank took forever."

She wears a flowing silk dress tied at the waist, the neckline forming a modest V. It's a deeper green than her eyes, but it and the jade in her gold necklace bring out their color. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her face brightened with a touch of makeup. She looks younger, more elegant. He realizes he's never seen her in anything but workout gear or loose linen, never realized how many kinds of beautiful she could be.

"It's not even four yet," he says.

She sets her bag on the kitchen table and hurries toward the armoire, undoing her sash and opening her dress, her cleavage out. She glances at him in the mirror.

"Don't stop on my account," she says with a small smile.

He looks forward quickly and bends to the left. In the mirror, his eyes catch her just as she pulls the dress off her shoulders, revealing her tight body in a lined cream bra and a seamless rose thong.

He remembers his practice:inhale, pull up from the root, exhale.

"I wanna be ready when Maya gets here," Diane continues.

Something inside him quickens. "Maya?" he says, leaning now to the right. "Maya's practicing with us?"

"No, she's teaching," Diane says as she turns to the wall, unsnapping her bra, letting it fall off her arms. Evan catches a glimpse--the side of her left breast--before she pulls on her tan-colored yoga top. She slips off her panties, then bends to step into her yoga pants, pulling them up in one leg at a time.

He snaps his eyes back forward, returning to Mountain.

Inhale, pull up, exhale.

"She is?" he asks with a dry throat.

"Didn't I tell you?" Now dressed, she turns to him, confused. "I swear, I think I'm losing my mind."

Evan's mind unfreezes; he looks in the mirror. He feels underdressed for a visitor.

"Uh, when is she--"

The door opens again.

"Namaste," an accented voice says.

Evan looks over, eyes widening. Maya wears a fitted yoga top that leaves her midriff bare and shorts cut high, both in a vivid orange, the vibrancy and the alluring curves of her body mildly stupefying him. Her hair is tied tight in a ponytail, giving her angular face an even starker look. Upon seeing him, a long smile stretches out her full lips.

"There she is," Diane says fondly. She crosses the room and pulls Maya into a long, tight hug, rocking her gently side to side. Maya keeps her gaze on Evan through the mirror, her chin resting atop Diane's head. He doesn't move.

When they separate, Maya walks toward him, steady and unhurried, her eyes still on his, until she circles to face him. His lips part on their own when she smiles.

She steps in and wraps her arms around him. He gradually returns the embrace, his chin landing below her shoulder; he figures she has four or five inches on him. He's intensely aware of how solid the muscles of her arms and her back are, contrasted with the soft give of her breasts and the smoothness of her skin.

"I can't tell you how honored and grateful I am to be your teacher today," she says, drawing back.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, sure... same."

She clasps her hands together, inhales with gusto, and nods sharply. "Well, then! Let's get started... Please get ready."

"Uh, yeah, I'm ready," he says.

Maya nods again, smiling with relaxed anticipation. "You can remove your shorts now."

He laughs reflexively and glances toward Diane, who stands off to the side, smiling her usual warm, pleasant smile. Blood rushes to his temples. His sinuses tighten.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, breathless.

She looks to Diane, moving nothing but her eyes.

"We didn't get to talk," Diane sheepishly laughs. "The other day, Maya and I were discussing your... issue."

Evan's face reddens. "Myissue?"

"Chronic masturbation," Maya answers. "To the point of self-harm."

Evan seizes up. He turns to Diane, eyes wide, hurt flooding his face.

Diane nods with a small wince. "We talked, as healers," she emphasizes with a little wave. "Maya's dealt with... similar challenges before... she's trained in practices that go a bit beyond traditional yoga."

Evan feels a rotting cavity where his chest had been.

"I'm a tantric yogini," Maya says. "Are you familiar with tantra yoga?"

He shakes his head, too stiffly.

"No? That's good, I suppose... People often have this misconception, that tantra is all about sex... mind-blowing, endless sex."

They do?he thinks.

She moves closer. "Most people try to suppress desire--control it, push it away," Maya says. "But tantra is about working with the energy, not against it."

He swallows and nods, desperately trying to suppress his desire.

"We recognize the energy." Her hand drags down his neck, glides over his chest as she walks around him. "Guide it, ride it like a wave." Her fingers smooth over his shoulders, down the curve of his back, settling on his hips. His breath quickens.

Maya meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles. "You have nothing to fear from me," she says. "I only want to help you."

Her eyes blind him through the mirror like a camera flash.

"Come now," she directs, patting his sides. "Take these off."

Evan's lips tremble; his eyes water. He looks over to Diane. She smiles at him ever so sweetly, pressing her hands together in prayer.

A thin chill creeps across his skin, his pulse pounding in his ears, as both women watch him silently, waiting. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, and with held breath, he draws them down, inch by inch, to his feet.

He straightens again, facing the mirror. He sees his penis, newly groomed--so bare it makes him wince. And despite feeling the progress of the last month of yoga, he doesn't see it. His body seems weak, the lines of his ribs visible. His shoulders slope, his chest flat and pale. Standing beside Maya, he feels like a little boy.

"There, you see? That wasn't so bad." Maya circles once again, back in front of him. She pauses in front of him, eyes drifting downward, studying him, then turns to Diane. "Mm. I don't see the... redness."

"I, uh, gave him an ointment," Diane says, nodding with quiet pride. "It's worked really well. And we agreed he'd take a little break. You did, right, sweetheart?"

Evan nods, heart filled with hate.

Diane's expression softens. "You look so much healthier," she sighs. "Your self-control, it's really making a difference."

Maya regards Diane for a moment, then turns back to Evan. She smiles cryptically. "The question is: what has become of that energy?"

She places both of her warm hands on his shoulders and steps in even nearer. "We will start by mingling ours."

She draws her hands down his arms and up again, caressing his neck, around his back. She closes in, her sizable breasts brushing against him, her hands falling to his buttocks. Her fingers touch his thighs, dance up the fronts of his hips, up his torso. They circle and swirl across the whole of his goose-pimpled skin.

Slowly but surely, his body betrays him--his testicles contract, his penis stiffens. It floats upward, into Maya's inner thigh.

She looks down and laughs dreamily, but does not move or stop her work. As she gently manhandles Evan, the tip of his cock draws a line of precum straight up her leg, resting between both of their stomachs.

"Mmm... it seems you've grown an erection," she says, stating the obvious as she strokes his penis with the side of her finger. He closes his eyes. "You know why?"

He says nothing.

"Because this is highly erotic," she says with a flash of mischief, still stroking him with her finger. "For me too, you know?"

He furrows his brow.

"What?" she grins provocatively. "I am a professional, but I am a woman first."

He blinks.

"You have an abundance of sexual energy," she speaks with passion, leaning in close, so that he feels her breath on his ear, and the steady weight of her breast against his shoulder, enough that he can sense her nipple through the synthetic fabric. His cock sticks the exposed skin of her belly.

"I can feel it radiating off of you," she continues, scanning him with her nose, breathing him in. "It is something we have in common... I wasn't always able to contain it. For years, it ruled me."

He frowns, actually listening to her.

"I was fortunate to encounter teachers who showed me how to transform it into something more powerful. It's what I want to share with you."

Evan remains silent. His cock throbs against her lower abdomen. She looks down at the top of his head and shoulders.

"You struggle with controlling it," she concludes, taking a step back. "Today, I don't want you to. Because I will do it for you."

She looks him in the eyes again. His face is numb.

Maya glances toward Diane. "Bring me that floor cover, please."

Diane nods and retrieves a folded polyurethane cover from the corner. Maya takes it, shakes it open, and smooths it across the floor. Then she unrolls one of the thicker vinyl mats over it and sets a cushion beside it.

"Kneel," she instructs.

He does so. She kneels on the cushion by his side.

"We will continue with a massage," Maya says. She takes a small brown bottle out of her bag, pours a line over his shoulders, and spreads it out in a circular motion.

"I am going to touch you everywhere," she explains. "Is this okay?"

He nods, not knowing what else he can do.

"Breathe, like Diane has taught you."

He closes his eyes on an inhale, holds it, and lets go. He feels her warm, slick hands slide over his left arm; she takes his hand in hers and rubs the oil into his palm.

The sensation continues on the right side, her actions repeated. Her hands touch his lower back, then to his hips, over his thighs and hamstrings. She encircles his left thigh at the knee with her two hands, lifting them until her right hand wedges between his leg and his genitals. His cock twitches.

"You must control yourself for this part," she tells him. "Just enjoy the sensation, and keep breathing."

She does the same to his right thigh. More oil drizzles onto his shoulders, dripping down his chest and back, which she rubs all over. She cups her hands onto his buttocks, kneading the muscles with her thumbs, opening the cheeks, pressing them together.

Her right hand slips between, reaching beneath, until her fingers touch underneath his scrotum. They drag back, a single finger passing over his asshole and up his crack.

"Oh," he says, surprised.

Maya chuckles and squirts more oil into her palm, and rubs her hands together. Oil drips off of them. She reaches around and slathers his cock with it, squeegeeing the excess off with the OK sign of her hand, rubbing it into his testicles, eliciting a moan.

"You are near your limit, yes?"

He nods.

"Don't worry," she comforts. "Lie on your back."

Evan looks over to Diane. She nods, smiling.

Evan lies down. Maya moves on all fours toward his head, settling behind him. She slips her legs beneath his arms and draws him back until his head rests against her abdomen. His shoulders tighten, his body held taut. Then, with two fingers at his temples, she begins to make slow circles. He loosens up some.

"Good," she approves. "Just relax."

With fingers running through his short hair, she massages his scalp and neck, moving next to his traps. He exhales slowly. His eyes open--he sees his body glistening, framed by her powerful thighs, her bare feet resting familiarly against his legs.

Maya shifts back, lowering his head onto the mat, the crown of it touching her groin. He can sense the softness and the heat from between her legs. His cock twitches again.

She folds forward over him, reaching her arms across the length of his torso, fingertips on his hip flexors, thumbs grazing the cap of his cock. On the way back up, her hands slide up the sides of him. He shivers.

She laughs gently. "You are unused to touch, hm?"

"Yeah," he breathes.

"I can tell," she nods. "You lack physical confidence."

His breathing changes.

"I don't say this to upset you," she says, soothing his chest with her hands. "You think women don't find you attractive, because of your small body."

Again, he tenses against her.

"You'd be surprised," she laughs, still lazily stroking his chest. "Do I intimidate you?"

"Maybe," he says. "A little."

"I should." She smiles wickedly. "You know, I have been intimate with many men--bigger, taller, stronger than you--but with much less... sexual power."

She bends to his ear. "Smaller cocks."

He lets out a laugh in the form of a cough. She continues to massage his chest. Gradually, the tension leaves him, and he sinks into her legs.

She pushes her hands forward again, from his chest across his stomach. Her breasts hover over his face, inches from his parted lips. Her hands pass over his ballsack, shifting his testicles. They take his cock; she rubs the sides of it with the heels of her palms.

He moans again, louder this time. Carefully, she lets it go, then feathers her fingers over it, stroking it gently.

"Breathe," she says. He tries.

She lifts it again with her left hand, tickling the underside of the head with her right. Her hands fall to its base, pushing it upright until it borders on discomfort. She lets it descend to his stomach again, dragging her hands back up to his shoulders. She massages his torso, pressing forward, her crotch blazingly hot against the top of his head.

Her hands continue down the front of his thighs. She impressively folds in half from the waist. Her arms extend along the length of his legs; when her reach is complete, her hands rest just above his ankles, her back nearly flat, her spine stretched long.

She covers him almost entirely--her breasts resting against his ribs, her head hanging low near his pelvis. She exhales with an audibleAhhhh,which he feels, her breath passing warm across his cock and balls. She rubs his cock with her face, moving it to and fro, letting his erection smear oil against her nose, her cheeks, her lips. More precum escapes him, and he fears he may lose it any second now.

Maya draws back up, dragging everything over him. She rises to her feet, looming above him, and walks to his hips, where she drops to her left knee, her right foot between his legs. She begins directly with her hands on his penis, holding it expertly. With two hands, she strokes it up, then down, then up again, applying greater pressure at the top each time.

She stays at the tip, working it with small movements. She interlocks her fingers around it and pulls them down.

"This method mimics the feel of a vagina," she says. "Have you ever felt a vagina, from the inside?"

He opens his eyes to her and shakes his head lightly.

"You have a good size and shape for them," she says. She traces the sides of it with two fingers. "See how it gets wider at the base? That isverygood." She looks over to Diane and laughs. "Don't you think?"

Diane waits before answering. "Yes."

Evan glances over at her. She watches Maya's work intently, her expression almost solemn--no hint of emotion beyond focused interest.

"It is a very nice cock," Maya affirms, grinning. "Thank you, for allowing me to honor it."

"My pleasure," Evan says reflexively.

Maya laughs infectiously. "Funny! That's much better. Women like funny."

Maya goes back to work, shaping his cock like a lump of clay on a potter's wheel. She flows through different hand techniques, from long strokes to tickling to acupressure; each time he feels that it may be too much, she seems to anticipate it, changing her technique--twisting it, petting it, letting the sensation ebb and rise.

She glances at Diane, seated cross-legged on the floor, watching with quiet fascination. At first, Diane doesn't notice. Then she feels the weight of Maya's stare and looks up. Her lips lift into her warm, practiced smile. Maya's eyes widen, bright and unblinking, her own smile edged with something unsettling. Diane looks back down to Maya's hands.

Those hands now fondle Evan's balls most pleasantly, distracting him from the slow pull of his shaft. His head starts to loll side to side.

"Stay with me," Maya says, voice low. She slowly closes both her hands around it, squeezing. She spreads her palms down, caressing his thighs.

Evan looks toward Diane again. She's watching--motionless, absorbed. She notices him. Her expression softens, but her smile is different. It wavers, holds too long, trembles at the corners.

Maya sees. "Close your eyes," she tells him.

He closes his eyes. He feels her hands return to his cock, moving faster than before. One holds him at the bottom, the other pulls him off. He thinks of hismula bandha. He imagines his root chakra as a ball of red light, as Diane had taught him. The ball grows in Maya's hands, as if she's pumping the energy right into him.

He marvels at how long he has lasted.How much time has passed?he wonders.Thirty minutes? Longer?

The ball of light intensifies, uncoiling up his spine; powering the birth of another ball, this time of orange, then yellow, then green, until a sphere of blue light swells before his shut eyes, changing into the brightest light he has ever seen, a white glow of silky cream washing over him, over everything. Rings of bliss roll through him, gathering at the top of his head.

He hears himself groan out a long, slow belch of pleasure. He feels two weeks' worth of hot cum gush from him, splattering across his neck, his arm, filling his navel.

"Oh!Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh... There we are," she purrs. "What a spectacular release."

He opens his eyes. The room vibrates. Diane looks on, her cheeks flushed, her mouth a touch open. Her moistened lips glow in the new light.

He follows her gaze to his cock, which Maya is squeezing like a tube of toothpaste, wringing out a sizable bubble of cum. He cries out, in a wounded voice he doesn't recognize, with a power he hadn't known he possessed. The sperm trickles down the underpart of his cockhead, over Maya's fingers, her hands and forearms glistening in oil.

Maya's half-shut eyes shimmer below the lids, her grin soft and certain. A shiver leaves him; her smile deepens.

"You are free," she says, then lets out a small hum that could be a laugh. "For now." She wipes her hands with a towel and lies down at his side, taking his hand.

"Join us, Diane," she says. "We'll finish in shavasana."

Diane nods, eyes shining. She dims the lamp and scrolls through her phone until the sound of meditation bells fills the room. She spreads her mat on the other side of him, lies down, and reaches for his free hand. Her fingers close gently around his. The three of them lie there in silence.

Evan keeps his eyes open, watching the ceiling, where shifting shadows form pictures he thought were only dreams.

***

Monday the 27th, 5:31 pm

"Evan?"

Evan lifts his head--unsure if he really heard her call, the sound of the shower muffling her voice--in time to see the green curtain draw open. He sits on the tile floor, knees pulled up, water coursing over him.