Erotic Fantasies (A compilation of erotic stories)

Yoga s*x 2

His body tingled with delight. He, on the other hand, was not about to c*m. He remembered how, when they were first married, his wife lay in bed spent from his f*****g. She could have shown up a million times. And he'd finish more than an hour later. He taught himself. He disliked finishing.

If he finished during the day, she would disappear into the bowels of the big household to complete her numerous responsibilities. If he was finished and it was late at night, she'd be fast asleep. If he finished and it was one of their secret meetings in the kitchen store or the coconut loft, she'd be gone in one instant.

He schooled himself to stop himself from falling over by pausing and gripping his c**k until his release faded. He'd then f**k her again. Once again. Once again. And his wife would be exhausted and satisfied. She despised him for it. And she loved him enough to meet him anywhere: on the patio, in the backyard, in the cowshed.

They were the gossip of the house, with maids and assistance exchanging knowing looks and blushing when they saw him or her depart their hideaway secretly.

That capacity to hold back turned into a need to be f****d all the time in order to get him to come. As he aged, his wife lost her physical capacity to ride him to climax. The affection lingered, as it does with most marriages. Narayan had to masturbate himself in order to be released. She unbuttoned her blouse and gave him her breasts. As he m*********d, he chewed, moaned, and slobbered over her magnificent breasts. His wife supported him as he did this for a few years. She occasionally m*********d on him. But then her wrist started hurting.

It was eventually just him.

Then there was today.

Sunita gasped, moaned, and thrashed around in her third (or fourth?) orgasm. And Arjun did nothing but lie there. He expelled fluids, but not the violent orgasm she remembered from her boyfriend. Men were released during a storm. There was nothing here. Maybe he took his closing his eyes too seriously.

She opened them with a kiss. "Sunita," he introduced himself. She was flushed. "Sir Arjun," she replied quietly. She said uncle in the calmest tone she could muster. The rest of the previous times were filled with frantic sobbing, groans, joyful calling out, and guttural grunts. Only phrases of her wild joy at having met her first actual male.

And what a gentleman he was! In comparison, her lover was a lousy specimen. He would never be able to last this long, she reasoned. And, given how Arjun had filled her, she doubted he would.

"Sir, you did not finish," she pointed out. In agreeing with her, Arjun simply shook his head nay.

There was no outpouring of rage. There is no guilt. There is no need to question. There was no explanation provided. Just a man and a woman. A female and a male. Only two people are meeting needs.

Is this what his yoga teacher meant when she said, "Accept what comes to you, accept what happens,"?

As she slipped up and off, he shuddered. Even though she was feeling raw and ragged, she shuddered at the nothingness. He hadn't actually f****d her. He had been f****d by her. She'd been out of control. For her own amusement. In search of his 'finish'. And in any combination of these two requirements.

He observed the young girl as she carefully massaged his c**k from the base up as she moved down. It jumped and jerked in response to the attention. His granddaughter was going to be this age in a few years. Did his granddaughter's breasts resemble Sunita’s in shape and firmness?

He shook the nefarious and wicked thought from his mind. The girl was virtually adoring his phallus, his lingam. She appeared to be delighted. To deal with the task at hand, she clamped her fist on his c**k. Lubrication was not required. Her and his fluids had mixed to create the slickest fluid she required for the job.

As her palm rushed over his c**k, the 'young' Arjun in his mind stopped her almost reflexively. Perhaps this man, whom she had always considered a revered senior, desired what her partner desired. She opened her mouth and moved to mouth him while holding his c**k in her fist.

Arjun yelled, "No!" "You are not supposed to do that, girl!" There was that phrase: girl. Girl. Little Lady. You, Little One. Dear little one. Sweet little one. That was the extent of his affection for her over the years.

"Don't call me that," she whispered, her face flushing to the roots of her hair. He knew why, unspoken and unstated.

He sat up and urged her to sit on his lap, his c**k on her lap. He spread his legs, his knees slightly bent. She spread herself wide, quivering in anticipation of his uncontrolled and inexorable surge up, into her.

She exclaimed as he entered a new space within her. It appeared to be the interior womb. The engineering student inside her noticed that it was all about angles rather than size dimensions.

Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, her face in his. Something new yet again.

"These lips," Arjun muttered, "are for this and not for down there," old fashioned Arjun added as he gently kissed her lips. He played with her lower lip, tugging at it until he let it go. She clung on feverishly, wiggling her hips gently, unable to bear the silence. Arjun’s tongue found its way into her mouth and found her tongue. And he slid his tongue in, out, in, out, like if... Sunita kissed him back hurriedly and furiously, covering his face with a flurry of fluttering kisses.

Her stupid boyfriend knew absolutely nothing!

She grinned brightly as she peered deep into his eyes. He was an eye-opener. "We should..." she began, but he covered her mouth before she could finish. She reminded him of his granddaughter. This was not supposed to happen. It had happened; it was occurring. It would never happen again.

"Lean back," just a little. Sunita leaned back as much as she could without releasing go of his shoulders. For the first time, he leaned in to take those breasts in his lips. He fed himself her mounds in turns, recalling his 'first night' when his bride was young, and the notion of how his own granddaughter's breasts may feel flashed through his thoughts.

He slowly licked her n*****s and f****d each of them while creating a tight "o" with his lips. She was overjoyed, kissing his head and holding to him. She kept attempting to move her p***y in order to offer herself with s****l gratification. And every time he did something new, she forgot to move. She let out a sigh. "We must," she said, clutching his head and kissing him all over with small fluttering kisses.

"Lean back a little more," he advised.

She held him with one hand only and leaned back, carefully reaching for the floor behind her with the other. She looked down to find his rigid c**k imbedded in her, fluid-coated. It crept out slowly as she leaned, and he finally stopped her. Thankfully, he hadn't abandoned her; the emptiness would be lethal, her hurting and throbbing insides warned.