Tantric Teng

“I miss you too. But I’m glad the children are having fun at the beach.”

I looked at Richard where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, turned away from me. He was still naked, trim and muscular for a man of thirty-five who indulged himself in everything--and could afford to do so. That everything included a gym and a good personal trainer, though. He’d come from the shower with a towel around his waist, but that had dropped to the kitchen floor while he was talking with his wife. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed that had happened, nor should he have been, I guess, other than he was talking to his wife on the telephone--in front of his boy toy. We’d both been naked on my bed, me writhing under him as he tried hard to fuck me, before he’d taken his shower.

But there was embarrassment there. He wouldn’t look at me while he talked to his wife, who had taken their children to her parent’s house in the Hamptons for the month of July.

His eggs were getting cold, but I’d be damned if I’d cook up another batch for him because he was on his cell phone, talking to his wife. Clarissa hadn’t called him. He’d called her, no doubt just to be sure she was still in the Hamptons and so that she wouldn’t call him on their home phone before he left for work and wonder why he didn’t answer there.

When he rang off, he came over and sat at the table in the bow window overlooking the Baltimore Inner Harbor from my apartment at the Promenade at Harbor East. He left the towel on the carpet back by the kitchen counter. This was a choice one-bedroom apartment and I couldn’t afford the rent, but Richard paid half of it. He sat, without embarrassment, with his thighs spread and his manhood tipping over the front of the chair--just like Richard Hineman owned the place. And just like he owned me as well. I guess both were true, even though the arrangement wasn’t working smoothly yet. I had to give him credit for trying to make it work, though.

He still wouldn’t look at me while he ate, although, just wearing sleeping shorts, I knew I looked good to him--ten years his junior and with the look of a model, which I’d first been when I came to work for his men’s clothing firm. I had a desk job there now, but I still modeled for his catalog--and laid on my back and opened my legs to him--not yet as successfully as either of us wished, though.

We’d tried again last night, taking advantage of the absence of Clarissa and his children, with him staying the whole night and fucking me three times. He’d managed to get off all three times, but it had been an effort and I know he wasn’t fully satisfied. I know he’d been looking forward to an all nighter without worrying about where his wife and kids were and not being available for Clarissa’s possessive beck and call. I know he also was looking forward to me being comfortable enough to open entirely to him, to let him sink all the way into me and pump me deep. He wasn’t that big that I shouldn’t be able to take more than four inches of him.

All of our encounters before that had been furtive and rushed. I know he had thought that I wasn’t melting to him because of that, and I had thought that too, but last night I had frozen in the act as much as ever before, and he’d had to take his pleasure with me tensed up and gripped with pain and him not being able to get it in to the hilt. He was hung but not overly so. But he was the first man I’d let screw me, and I just wasn’t loosening up, even though I wanted to.

God knows I wanted to enjoy it. He was my boss and I was his toy. And he was good looking and in good shape. He was going to fuck me if he wanted to and I wanted to keep my cushy job and lifestyle, but I wanted him to enjoy it and I wanted to enjoy it too. And it seemed so important to him to put it all in me.

I didn’t want to think it was his fault--there was no question that he didn’t want to think it was his fault--but it wasn’t like I was an expert in this. I just felt that, maybe if he spent more time preparing me rather than forcing it in and starting to pump as soon as I’d sucked it hard, with him going hard quickly . . .

He finished his eggs, mumbling something that passed as thanks for fixing him breakfast, and went back into the bedroom to dress. I’d shower after he left. He didn’t want us to arrive at the office at the same time. He didn’t want there to be any talk of the two of us. In fact, he went overboard in flirting with the office women to avoid any suspicion that he was spiking--or trying to--one of his male employees. That must be working, because every time I’d seen him with his wife, she was watching him like a hawk when he was interacting with another woman. She didn’t show such suspicion when he and I were talking.

I heard him on the cell phone again in the bedroom, and when he came out, elegantly dressed as the CEO of a men’s clothing empire would need to be, he looked at me for the first time since I’d gone rigid when he’d forced himself in me the previous night and just lay there, groaning as he worked his way to an ejaculation without much response from me--and without getting more than maybe three inches in me before I started closing down. Each time I’d taken considerable time jacking myself off after he’d come and withdrawn from me, stretched out beside me, smoking a cigarette, and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes watching me jack off heated him up again and he made another run at me--never with enough success to fully satisfy him, though.

“I want to meet you for lunch at a Chinese restaurant near the corner of South Broadway on Eastern Avenue, Marco,” he said. “The Jade Garden. It’s just a hole in the wall. Meet me at 1:00 and check out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. I have you booked for a photo shoot over at Fort McHenry, but there isn’t really one. I’ll supposedly be at a meeting in Washington. I want you to be there, at the restaurant, though. That’ll give us the time to do what we need to do.”

The time to do what, I wondered. But Richard wasn’t a man you quizzed about anything he didn’t freely tell you. God knows he was keeping secrets even from his wife.

He was giving me a piercing look of command, just as he’d done that night we’d both worked late and I gave him a blow job that he said was memorable. He clearly enjoyed dominating and I didn’t think I’d mind being submissive. I just hadn’t been able to get comfortable with it yet. And I needed to. I enjoyed the lifestyle this apartment gave me and the free clothes I got from working for Richard--and I even found Richard sexy. It just wasn’t clicking with him yet.

It was the first time I’d been with a man all the way and it was the first time that he had tried a relationship with a man. All of his lays before that had been casual, with rent-boys, and he was clear about wanting something deeper, more mutually satisfying, with me. I was grateful that he was trying with me. I didn’t know what the problem was--whether it was me, him, or us. It wasn’t our bodies. We were both in superb shape and we both went hard just from seeing the other one naked. He was of solid Nordic stock and my family on both sides had been Brazilian. We fit together in theory like Yin and Yang, both in size, him being large boned and light skinned, and me being smaller, delicate-boned, and darker.

Another surprise for me was that I had had no idea that Richard liked Chinese food. He seemed much more the straightforward steak and fries man. I wasn’t much for Chinese either, sticking pretty close to citric salads to keep in trim. The camera put on weight; it didn’t take it off.

* * * *

Richard was just pushing his food around on his plate. I was doing about the same, although I did take a bite or two from time to time. It was OK--I mean the food was OK. Richard was stewing about something, I could tell. But he hadn’t spoken much. He certainly hadn’t told me why we were having lunch here.

“Anyone show any suspicion why you were leaving early?” he asked.

“No, not that I saw. I wasn’t looking for it, though. You provided a perfectly plausible explanation for both of us,” I said. “Why are we here, Rich?” I added.

“It’ll be OK, baby,” was the only cryptic response to that. I hadn’t really expected an answer. I just wanted some said to pop the bubble of tension in the booth. “Excuse me a few minutes. I’ll be back,” he said, and then he slid out of the booth, spoke briefly to a waitress, and then went through a doorway at the back of the restaurant that was covered by a beaded curtain. Off to the can, I thought, and took a few more bites of food. He was gone a good ten minutes, more like fifteen, and when he returned, he was followed by a Chinese man of about forty who was quite handsome and hard bodied. He wore a tight T-shirt that showed him to be muscular and well-developed, particularly for his age. My eyes, as they tended to do ever since I knew I was interested in men, went to the bulge at his crotch. The material there was stretched tight over something quite impressive.

Richard slid back into the booth across from me, and the Chinese man slid in next to me, causing me to move more toward the wall. His thigh was against mine and his bicep pressed into mine. He felt hard as a rock, and I found him arousing. Getting aroused by a man wasn’t a problem I had--not even imagining myself lying under a man. My brain was certainly filled with thoughts of lying under this man.

“Your friend here says you two are having difficulty in your sexual relationship,” the man said, turning a concerned smile to me. His voice was soft, a rich baritone. My forearm was on the table and he took my hand in his and wove our fingers together. My thoughts of him inside me had been so real that I made no effort to pull my hand away from this intimacy. Still the first thing that had come out of his mouth was so baldly sexual that I was off balance.

“Excuse me? I’m not sure--” I’m sure my voice sounded strained. What was going on here? Still, I found the man disturbingly arousing.

“This is Eddie Teng, baby,” Richard said, breaking into my expression of confusion and concern. “He owns this restaurant, but he also is a counselor in tantric sex--gay tantric sex. I called him this morning about your discomfort and tensing up when I fuck you--and not letting me in. He was recommended to me at the gym.”

“You’ve been talking about my sexual problems at the gym?” I asked, nearly swallowing my words. Teng’s hand gripped mine strongly as if to tell me that he understood and to remain calm. Richard certainly didn’t seem to understand. And what he said next didn’t make it any better.

“Mr. Teng uses massage--he calls it tantric massage--and he’s a surrogate sex partner. I understand he can calm you down for sex and help you to open to it.”

“Can he now?” I said, looking down at the table top, thoroughly embarrassed and angry, but not wanting to show it. I had too much riding on a relationship with Richard to fly off the handle. But, shit, I didn’t think this was all my problem. The Chinese hunk was rubbing his thigh against mine, and I was warming to him more than I’d done with Richard yet and we were just sitting next to each other. “Do you mean he’s going to fuck me?”

“If you and your partner wish, I’m going to work you through the stages of becoming one with the cosmos in a mutually fulfilling Yin and Yang relationship,” Teng answered for Richard in a soothing voice and with a reassuring smile. “I understand that you, Marco, are the Yin of the pair--the female essence--and Richard here is the Yang, the male dominator. If you wish me to I will guide you two--both of you”--and here he moved his hand under the table and grasped the top of my thigh. I understood that he was conveying to me the understanding that this wasn’t just my problem, that the instruction would be for both of us, and I melted to the man--“through the phases of getting the most pleasure you can--both of you--from Karezza.”

“Karezza?” I asked.

“Yes, that is the tantric term for prolonged arousal and fulfillment. I will teach you both how to master Karezza to embrace the natural energies of your bodies--you, Marco, being prepared in your Kundalini, your receiving channel, to take and give pleasure to Richard’s Lingam--his staff of the Yang. It is the path for you to become one with the other.”

“The problem is that I can’t get it all in. He won’t open completely to me. I want him to take it all, not to clinch on me,” Richard interjected, with an edge of exasperation.

“Yes, yes, we will work on that,” Teng said, the tone of his voice soothing.

“You will fuck me?” I asked, looking only at Teng.

“Yes, he will fuck you if it will help you open up and let me get the fuck from you that I want,” Richard said, breaking in again, obviously impatient.

Teng responded as if Richard hadn’t said anything. “I will take you on a long path before that, but yes, I will be Yang to your Yin as a surrogate for your lover. I will fully possess your Kundalini with my Lingam, helping you to take the full length and thickness of it, as your partner wishes you to be able to do with his Lingam, and I will do so while ensuring your pleasure. And if you are receptive--open to the experience--I will help both of you marshal your mutual sexual energy to maximize your ability to reach spiritual growth and healing together through the merging of your bodies. We will strive for Karezza--you with me first before you with your partner, if that is necessary. And I can see that you both have very fine bodies. I am confident that I can bring you to tantric Nirvana--to the plateau of sexual paradise--and that you can achieve it with each other.”

I was close to coming just from his explanation of the services he was offering and from his lack of embarrassment in graphically, if flowery, talking of the most intimate act. But he was taking it beyond talk.

He took my hand and moved it to his crotch. He was huge. More important, he was hard. He was signaling to me that I aroused him and that he would go through this tantric business with me with pleasure. I already was panting. I didn’t know if I swallowed any of this tantric gobbledygook that he was selling, but just hearing him talk about it aroused me. Having him touch me aroused me. What he was doing now--moving my hand, with his, to my own crotch, revealing to him that I was hard too--was bringing me close to hyperventilating. Richard hadn’t brought me to this stage. Still, it was Richard I wanted to have the relationship with, not this Chinese guy.

Or so I was telling myself. I had to admit that my interests were tipping in that direction, though.

Teng leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I will teach your partner to seduce you as I am doing with you now. I am seducing you, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I wondered whether Richard had any inkling how much farther we’d gone beyond talk, with each of us getting the measure of the other with our hands below the surface of the table. Teng obviously was conveying to me that he understood that I needed attention that I wasn’t getting from Richard.

“You would be ready for me to cover and fully possess you now, wouldn’t you, if you had walked into my restaurant alone and sat with me here? You would be open to me--to all of me--as your lover wishes your Kundalini to be fully open to his Lingam, don’t you believe?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“Good. You must believe it for it to transpire. You aren’t nearly as open to it yet as you could be under my instruction. I will teach Richard to bring you to this point too--and beyond. To heaven--to tantric sexual Nirvana. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” I looked up at Richard. I could tell from his expression that he very much wanted to try this out. But I also knew that he still thought it was all my problem.

“When would we do this?” I asked.

“Now. My tantric method studio is here, at the back of the restaurant. Your partner has already engaged me for a full release session. All that awaits is your acquiescence. I believe you are ready. Tell me that you are ready.”

“Yes, I am ready.”

* * * *

The room Teng took us to behind the restaurant was like it was in another world. It was all stucco walls and arches and a pool with a burbling fountain and the ripple of its waters reflecting off the ceiling, silken pillows and wall hangings. He had us recline on a divan covered with pillows and look through a portfolio of beautiful men fucking younger men. Somehow he’d managed to pull together photos where the similarities between the men and Richard and me were striking. There were a couple of photos that included a Chinese man and the sexual positions and evident size of the man’s cock aroused me in particular--and chills went up my spine when I realized that the man was Teng. He told us to arouse each other as he prepared the massage table, and Richard and I kissed and fondled each other as we’d never taken time to do before. I must admit that some of my thoughts went to Teng. They weren’t all about Richard.

Already I was learning what had been missing in our lovemaking and I could only hope that Richard was learning it too. The foreplay was all important.

Teng had me strip--or rather had Richard strip me, taking as much time as he could to do so and, at Teng’s instruction, to run his hands over my body as he did so. Then I was bid to do the same to Richard and Richard was told to stand by and watch as Teng gave me a massage with warm oil.

OK, I thought, this was just going to be like any massage. But, of course, it wasn’t. Teng had sensual hands and he worked every muscle of my body--except the essential one, although I ached for him to stroke that and I got hard and throbbing before he was finished.

But he wasn’t finished.

“Now for the Lingam,” he said, by which I knew I now was going to get the attention for the cock that I was aching for. I looked over to Richard to make sure he was taking this in. He needed this, I realized, more than I did, but neither I nor Teng could directly tell him so. I sensed that Teng knew what the real problem here was. He was trying to teach Richard the importance of the foreplay, the preparation.

“You have a very nice Lingam. Do you ever give as well as receive?”

“I have never . . . given . . . no,” I mumbled.

“Pity. I both give and receive.” He let that possibility sear through my mind before moving on. “I will concentrate on the center now,” Teng said. “I will open the Kundalini, although you may not realize it is happening until I could possess you with my whole fist if I wished or you begged for it.”

That certainly brought a moan out of me. I heard Richard moan as well.

“You are to work with me in lingering just short of the release for as long as possible, but when it, at last, cannot be denied, release without embarrassment. We will continue until you have. And there will be more releases.”

That latter comment was as arousing to me as anything else he was saying. The thought of achieving multiple ejaculations in this session . . .

With that, he positioned me on my back, a pillow under my neck and another one, covered with a towel, under the small of my back. “I will set you in the position you are to remain in,” he said. He spread my thighs slightly apart, with my knees bent and my feet flat on the surface of the massage table. Then he dribbled me with oil and resumed massaging my body with a sensual touch, working his way up my body, starting with my feet, then my calf muscles, thighs, abdomen, chest, shoulders, and moving to behind me and working my neck muscles and my temples. He was naked now, and he let his long, thick cock nestle within the crook of my neck as he worked my temples.

“If you have the urge to take my Lingam into your mouth, do so,” he murmured. He had told me that, as a surrogate sex partner and an illustration for Richard, I would be taking his cock in my mouth, he would be taking mine, and, ultimately, he would be fucking me--although even now he referred to it as fully possessing my Kundalini with his Lingam--“to the root,” he added, for Richard’s benefit and looking reassuringly at him. “But you are not to be concerned with any sexual urge you have in this session,” he said. “Nothing is beyond acceptability here if it brings pleasure. Even if you should wish to sheath both your partner and me together. That would be the height of sexual Nirvana. We could achieve that.”

I almost hyperventilated on that suggestion.

The whole purpose of the session, he assured me was for me to be prepared for sexual relations and to be fulfilled and satisfied by them. “You are having trouble opening to the Lingam,” he said. “When you have lost your anxiety over that, I could even service you with this, my fist, and you would open to it and take pleasure from it.” He showed me his fist, and I shuddered. I realized he would be taking me far beyond my current comfort zone.

Even so, it took me by surprise when he pulled my body to where my head arched back at the head of the massage table, and he moved to massaging my cheeks and opening my mouth so that his cock could slide inside. I heard Richard’s intake of breath as he stood off to the side, and it pleased me that he was paying attention. Even though he was longer and thicker than Richard was, I took Teng’s cock into my throat with greater ease than I had experienced with Richard, and I felt confident that we’d already learned enough, the two of us, of what we needed to do to satisfy each other.

But we weren’t anywhere close to the end of teaching.

I instinctively reached for my throbbing cock with my hands as Teng massaged my pectorals and slid his cock in and out of my mouth, but he commanded, “No. You may not touch it,” and gently took my hands away, moving them to the sides of the massage table where I discovered there were restraints for the wrists, which Teng employed to hold them there. “Your Lingam belongs to your partner in this coupling just as your Kundalini does. You are the Yin, the submissive receiver. Your Yang partner will possess what of you he--or I, when I am your partner--wishes. Every part of you in your Yin mode is there for your lover’s Yang pleasure and, in giving him supreme pleasure, you will receive supreme pleasure as well.”

He withdrew his cock from my throat and asked permission to pay honor to my Lingam, saying that it was tradition not to proceed from this point if I wasn’t fully vested in the tantric ceremony. I croaked my acceptance. He could have mounted me and fucked me then, I’m sure, and I would have taken him with pleasure--all of him, just as was Richard’s goal.

Teng came back around to the foot of the massage table and pulled me back into position so that my head rested on the surface of the table. He placed a few drops of massage oil on his hands and moved his hands to the top of my thighs, where they met the crease of the pelvis. He held them there, his fingers pressed into the creases for nearly a full minute. I trembled under his touch. And my dick--my Lingam--went straight-up, throbbing erect.

“It is important to pause occasionally to heighten the anticipation,” Teng whispered. He was talking over my body to Richard, though, and I hoped the lesson was sinking in. The arousal of anticipation certainly was rising. My cock must be hard as stone, and I could feel--and was fighting--the rise of precum. I could also feel my passage throbbing, the muscles of the channel walls rippling--hungry for a cock and, no doubt, more open to receiving one than I ever had been for Richard.

Then, working on the muscles of my thighs and belly, alternating between stroking and kneading, he massaged me until I was sighing and groaning. His hands worked their way to the lower part of my pelvic bone with his fingertips pressing into the flesh and making small circular motions. His fingertips went to my perineum, which he stroked, alternating glides with the circular motions.

“Oh, god, I think I’m going to--”

“Not yet. Not nearly yet,” he murmured, and the pressure of a finger went to a spot on my perineum that suppressed the urge to blow. When he felt me relax and gain control, his fingers went to my ball sac, and I jerked and moaned, as he hunted out the testicles and rolled them between his fingers. When he felt I was about to come again, he let go of the sac, which he also was distending, and applied pressure to that spot on my perineum again.

Richard wasn’t as successful at holding off as I was. I heard his heavy panting and then his little cry of ecstasy and the wetness of his ejaculation on my arm. I hadn’t realized he had been standing that close. I had had my eyes closed, sure that if I looked down the line of my body to the magnificent muscular body of Teng, I could not hold my release.

Teng moved his hand to the bulb of my cock, rubbing the bulb with oil and cupping it with his fingers and lightly massaging it. One hand went back to my ball sac and the other one moved down my cock, stroking lightly and then continuing down onto my perineum. Stroking back up to the tip of my cock and then down again, this time going lower on my perineum. Up and down and his fingers were at my anal opening.

I ached for him to be inside me. On the next stroke down, he was, but just inside the entrance, holding there for nearly a minute. He withdrew the finger and commanded me, “Look at me,” and I opened my eyes. He was showing me, over my belly, his hand, palm up, and all but the middle finger, which was curved up, folded back. “Imagine this as my Lingam,” he said in a low voice. “I will possess your Kundalini with it now. And because your need is to be open to a master, imagine this as my Lingam in erection.” He then opened the other three fingers, and bunched them together with the middle finger. “But do not worry. Your Kundalini is open sufficiently already and is hungry for the Lingam.”

He certainly had that right.

I moaned as I watched him extend just the middle finger, make it descend to below the curve of my belly, and invaded me with it, moving it up to my prostate. I closed my eyes and felt myself open to it, as I groaned at the possession.

“Look at me,” he commanded again. This time his four fingers were bunched together. I panted as they descended below the curve of my belly. As he pressed them inside my entrance, my sphincter muscle grabbed at the fingers, trying to draw them in--something they’d never done for Richard’s cock. I whimpered my need. He pulled them back and stroked the rim of my hole--and then pressed them in again, with my sphincter grabbing at them again. He pulled them back.

“You are the Yin, the female, to my Yang,” Teng murmured. “Your Kundalini--your passage, your channel, will yawn open to me. It is hungry for me. It will uncoil and make straight for the entry and progress of the Lingam. It will open as it never has before and take a Lingam more possessive than it has ever known before. Your Kundalini will become one with the Lingam. Yin and Yang. The natural energies of the two bodies will become one with the other and connect with the cosmic energy into an orgasm the likes of which you have never known before.”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice rising to a cry, “make me come; let me release. Fuck me!” Wanting it, even when knowing how big he was, how much bigger than Richard was--and Richard wasn’t small.

On the next stroke down, the fingers entered me, and I arched my back and moaned deeply. They found my prostate and pressed there, again for nearly a full minute, as I panted and moaned. Richard, beside me was panting heavily, and he had his hands on my chest, rubbing my nipples. Teng didn’t stop him.

His hand moved deeper inside me, and I felt his bunched knuckles at my rim. Still my passage was blossoming open. I was panting heavily, but my gates continued to roll open for him. The knuckles were past the rim, past even the sphincter. I felt completely filled by him and stretched to the limit, but he kept murmuring to me in reassuring and encouraging phrases, and I felt the tension flowing out and away from me. He had much of his fist inside me, as he had hinted earlier he would do, and I was accommodating him. I even was taking pleasure from him--both from the physical sensation itself and from the knowledge that, yes, I could take all of Richard’s cock.

“Shit, he’s almost in to his wrist,” Richard exclaimed, and I closed down and worked to expel the hand. Teng shushed Richard, who moved around to my head.

Teng restarted the process but didn’t go as far this time, having already made his point. He worked me with just the middle finger, rubbing my prostate, methodically, mercilessly, as Richard massaged my nipples, and my pelvis went into a motion of its own volition. The urge to ejaculate became excruciating. Teng pulled his fingers out until I relaxed and then inserted them again. Build up and relax. Build up and relax. And then he told me to open my eyes and look at him, and when I did, he showed me an impossibly large, wooden dildo. I moaned as he inserted it and held it just an inch inside me. The muscles of my rim and sphincter undulated over it, again trying to pull it inside. I was open to it and the knowledge that I was--Richard’s exclamation that he’d been in almost up to his wrist--coursed through my body like electricity.

And then it was inside me, pressing deeper, pausing at my prostate, rubbing me there, sending charges of electricity through me. Withdrawing when I felt I was about to explode and holding its thicker bulb just inside my hole as my rim pulsed around it, slowly calming down, my panting and twitching subsiding. Then invading again, the thick, smooth bulb rubbing the prostate again.

“You may release now,” Teng said in a low voice, and I did so, with a cry of passion. The polished wood dildo went deeper inside me and Teng moved it in and out, fucking me with it. I had gone soft and spongy inside, not just taking the thick wooden phallus but undulating the muscles of my channel walls over it as it moved deeper inside me and Teng twisted it this way and that to the sounds of my deep moans.

“Good, you are open to it now, joining with it as one, Lingam and Kundalini working together to achieve cosmic energy. The perfect balance of Yin and Yang, only missing the full essence of the Yang,” he whispered. “I will be your Yang now. Later, your partner.”

I was gloriously open to it, feeling no pain, experiencing only pleasure. I almost cried at the loss when Teng pulled it out of me, but I rejoiced when I realized he’d only done so to come up on the table himself and push his knees under my buttocks while pushing the pillow that had been under the small of my back off to the side of the table.

He too held for the longest moment with only his bulb inside me and then I cried out at the long slide of him into the depths of my passage, my central core now soft, yielding, wanting.

“The complete balance of Yin and Yang,” he whispered.

He was gigantic inside me, and throbbing, as the wooden dildo was unable to do. I sobbed and went even softer, more vulnerable, for him inside, my muscles gripping his staff and undulating over it. Truly as one with him. It wasn’t just him. My pelvis was in motion, moving with him, leveraging off my feet on the surface of the table and thrusting up as he thrust down, taking him deep and deeper. Matching my rhythm to his. There was no question that he was in to the hilt. He fucked me and stroked my cock with a hand until I was hard again. Then he left me, and I felt Richard coming up onto the table and sliding inside me.

“Yin and Yang. Lingam becoming one with Kundalini,” Teng murmured, and Richard and I did, indeed become one--as much one coordinated act of nature as I had achieved with Teng, moving together as one, pelvises in one coordinated action, sighing together, groaning and moaning together, crying out in ecstasy together, as, after what seemed an eternity of the prolonged arousal state Teng had called Karezza, we came not more than five seconds apart.

He lay on top of me, still throbbing inside me, his lips pressed into the hollow of my neck. Teng released my wrists, and I wrapped my arms around Richard’s back. We cooled in a prolonged state of ecstasy, and I felt him stirring inside me again, and I began moving my pelvis, willing the muscles of my channel walls to grip him again and ripple over his staff as it hardened again, and started to move inside me, to probe me deep, once more.

* * * *

I straddled Richard on the bed in my apartment, him on his back, his hands gripping my waist, as, facing him, the palms of my hands pressed into his pectorals, I rode his cock--his Lingam, in Teng’s terms--in circular and rocking motions, taking him deep in what Teng called my Kundalini. We were doing the Yin and Yang thing in spades. Also the Karezza thing, me holding still whenever I felt either one of us was going to blow and then resuming the ride when we had calmed--not when we had cooled down, but when we’d backed off a bit so that the next high and “close to exploding” was higher than the previous one had been.

I was completely open to him, and his cock was hard as a rock, engorged to his limit, and throbbing inside my soft inner core.

He took my cock in one of his hands and stroked it in rhythm to my rise and fall on his staff. “This time. All the way this time,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“Talk me in,” I begged. “Let me know when. Let’s try to come together.”

We did, the first time we’d achieved a mutual ejaculation.

We soaped each other in the shower and fondled each other until, rinsing off under the cascading water, he bundled our cocks together and stroked us off to a second mutual explosion. We’d had three session with Teng. He’d said we could achieve mutual comings by being entirely open to each other and, he said, “embracing the natural energies of our bodies and becoming one with the other.”

In my book, what had been needed was for Richard to understand that he had to seduce me each time--prepare me and not stick it in until I was open enough to take it without pain, without closing down to him. If he wanted to buy Teng’s tantric mumbo jumbo and be able to tell himself that it was all me being trained to it, that was OK with me.

I left him in the shower and padded out to the kitchen to make our breakfast. He came in with just a towel around his waist. I think it was the same inadequate towel he’d worn a couple of weeks ago, the day he made the appointment for us with Teng, because it slipped down his legs again as he leaned into the kitchen bar while I brought our breakfast to the table in the bow window overlooking the Baltimore Inner Harbor.

I was naked and he was watching my every movement. My movements were informed by pamphlets on tantric sex that Teng had given me. “Dance for him; put him in the mood,” Teng had said. It was working. We’d fucked and frotted, but he was half hard again.

We ate our breakfasts quickly. I reached over and laid a hand on his forearm.

“Do you really want to go into the office this early?” I asked.

“Do you want to go for a third mutual?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” I answered, “but you forget. Clarissa and the girls are coming home tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “I have to do some straightening up today. I’m not planning to go to the office at all.”

“Too bad,” I said, showing him a bit of a pout.

“Just a minute,” he said. He went back to the kitchen island and retrieved his cell phone. He leaned into the bar as the connection went through, and I went over, knelt in front of him, and took his cock in my mouth. He valiantly suppressed a groan as Clarissa picked up. “I thought I’d call you just before leaving for the office,” he said. He listened to her briefly and then said, “Well, that sounds too good for them to pass up. Another week then? I’ll miss you, but we’d agreed that the summer was for the girls.”

When he rang off, he held my head briefly into his crotch as he gave way to deep moans, and then pushed me gently away. “Clarissa’s parents want to take the girls for a beach week. They won’t be coming home for another week. I don’t have to straighten the house up today.”

I rode him with him sitting there in his chair and me straddling his lap, rising and falling on his cock using the leverage of my bare feet on the floor on either side of his chair. I held his mouth to my nipples, in turn, and moaned deeply for him. He was lost to me now. I’d known before that he could be because of all the effort he’d put into melding with me. And now we melded. We did Yin and Yang perfectly. I made melting love to his Lingam, trapping it deep in my Kundalini, using the newly trained muscles of my channel walls. We mastered Karezza.

We could set a record for consecutive mutual shoot offs with another week of practice.

I was enjoying the ride, but I already was planning my day for after Richard left. Teng was holding an afternoon session open for a one-on-one tantric lesson. There was no way I wanted to miss that.