New York City
May 8
Tox stood next to Calliope on the mat, palms pressed together chest-high.
“Are you nuts? I can’t fucking touch my toes.”
“Let’s try this.” Calliope sank gracefully to her knees at his feet and glanced up at him.
“I like where this is going.”
She bent forward and kissed the tops of his bare feet. “This is Child’s Pose.” She came upright, still on her knees. “Hero Pose.” She cast a wry glance. Tox rolled his eyes as she continued her tutorial.
“Bend forward. If you touch my lower back, you get my hand. She rubbed her hand over the outline of his erection. Touching my ass gets you my tongue. And if you can touch the arches of my feet, you get my mouth. Deal?”
“I’ll snap both hamstrings if I have to.”
She braced her hands on his hips and waited.
Tox speared her hair with his fingers and ran them over her scalp in long soothing strokes, her purr of satisfaction egging him on. He ran the backs of his knuckles down her cheek and his thumb across her lower lip. His big hands descended to her neck. He caressed her soft skin, feeling her pulse thrum beneath the surface. With two fingers he traced her collar bone; Calliope came alive at the sensation, the erotic promise of the innocent touch. He gripped her shoulders firmly and massaged and kneaded muscles she hadn’t realized were tense and knotted. A moan escaped her lips. He ran his short nails down her back to the bottom of her rib cage waking goosebumps on her arms and neck, her grip on his hips tightening. Finally, he smoothed both hands flat and caressed her upper back. His thumbs were touching, the tips of his fingers just dusting the sides of her breasts.
Calliope slid her hands around to his front and gripped his erection that was already pushing out of his waistband and jutting up toward his abs. She wrapped one hand, then two, around his length and gave a slow firm stroke, his upper body bent over her, sheltering her like an awning.
Tox’s hands continued down, squeezing and fondling the globes of her ass. Calliope felt herself soften and ache for his touch. He didn’t deny her. His hands slid underneath, between her legs from behind. He probed, toyed with her clit, slipped inside her with one finger, then two. She lowered his workout shorts and responded in kind, licking him from root to tip with the flat of her small tongue. She twirled it around the end, tasting the salty bead that hung from the tip like a dewdrop.
More from losing his balance than stretching, Tox’s hands dropped down to her heels, his long fingers reaching to her arches. He groaned as he felt her take his tip into her mouth and suck hard. His hands pushed up, returned to the apex of her thighs. One from the front, one from behind, he played her body like an instrument. He alternated between her entrance and her clit, plunging then circling, dragging the moisture from her body through her folds. He held the small bud tight between his thumb and forefinger then released it as he pumped two fingers inside her from behind. His huge cock stifled her cry as she shattered within the cocoon of his body.
As he slowly returned to standing, Calliope redoubled her efforts. She tugged his shorts farther down his thighs and worked him with both hands and her mouth. She took him into her throat, pulled with her mouth, pumped with her hands. Tox’s hands were at her shoulders squeezing harder than before. Then they traveled up her neck and returned to her hair. Instead of stroking her scalp, he gathered the mane in a firm grip and attempted to tug her away. Undeterred, she resisted, pumped faster, squeezed tighter, sucked harder. With a primal roar to the ceiling, he erupted. Tox exploded into her mouth and Calliope swallowed him down with relish. She had just given the tip a final loving lick when he dropped to his knees before her.
He didn’t say anything, just stared, a look of wonder on his face, and she returned his gaze with an expression of complete satisfaction. Tox grabbed her around the waist and pulled her on top of him as he fell to his back on the mat.
“I’m betting that was a yoga pose people have never seen.” His dimples made a brief appearance.
“Don’t be too sure. Yoga has roots in Hinduism. Hindus wrote the Kama Sutra.”
“I’m starting to see the benefits.”
“Definitely. That was by far the most satisfying session I’ve ever had.” Calliope sprawled on his chest.
“I will of course need a committed instructor.”
She scooted until she was fully on top of him, arms folded on his chest supporting her chin, toes bent back scrunching his shins.
“And I’ll need a committed student. One who’s willing to learn.” She tilted her hips. “And maybe teach me a thing or two.”
“Committed, huh?”
“Yep. Committed.”
He palmed her ass.
“Do you know you growl?”
“Hmm?” Tox was happily distracted by the plane of perfection above him.
“When you’re turned on. You almost growl. It’s … primal.”
Tox sat up and turned Calliope sideways so she was cradled in his lap.