Isabella’s yellow summer dress rose high as she sat with her legs crossed. We had just crossed the Bear Mountain bridge with a spectacular view of the Hudson. She fidgeted in the seat next to me, tying and untying her hair in little knots as she looked out of the window. I grabbed her hand and pulled it away before she ripped all her hair out. She looked over at me and pulled her hand free. I was happy and looking forward to the adventure, but she seemed lost in herself.
I broke the silence between us. “We should be there in a little over two hours. We will soon be on the I-87 that will take us to the Catskills and Woodstock. From there, it will be about thirty minutes to our resort.”
“What should I expect to see?” she asked disinterestedly.
I tried to get her in the mood by laying out the facts. “The Catskills have emerged from the hippy days. The ’90s have brought chic boutique hotels, hipster shops, and farm-to-table restaurants. You can still expect to see traces of the flower power of the ’60s. But, of course, nature will be all around us. Our resort is about fifteen minutes from the trailhead leading to Slide Mountain, the tallest peak in the Catskills.”
“I like that,” she said as her left hand traced the outside of my crotch, snaked into my tracks, and held my erect penis. While I stared straight at the road ahead, she stroked me and smiled at the occupants of passing cars.
“Kabir, do you want to play a game?”
I turned to her and asked, “What did you have in mind?”
“How about I ask you some questions, and then, in turn, you ask me a few?”
“Okay,” I said, not knowing where the conversation was headed.
“What is your favorite position for regular sex?”
“Missionary and Cowgirl.”
She paused, smiled wickedly, and said, “Wild sex?”
“Doggystyle.”
“How would you feel about having me watch as you masturbate?”
“I am not so sure I would like that.”
“What is the most erotic thing I could whisper in your ear just before you cum in me?”
That was easy, I thought, and I said, “I want your baby.”
“How would you feel about watching pornography together as foreplay?”
“I would love that.” I was, in fact, a regular at our local porn video store.
“What sorts of porn have you seen, and which types do you like best?”
“Interracial, cuckold, impregnation, cumshots.” I was just reading my favorites list.
“Performing oral sex on you while you are on the phone with Sudha?”
She had a lie detector built into her left hand. “Yes, I would love that.”
I reminisced about Sudha. She was my intellectual and spiritual partner, but I missed the sense of adventure. The promise of sexuality. Isabella seemed to possess that in abundance.
“Your turn.” Her words broke my musings while her hands continued stroking.
This exercise was easy on the road, with my gaze directed straight ahead. My questions required more discussion and included asking Isabella how she would feel about taking a course together in Tantric sex and shopping for sex toys and lingerie. She needed education on the former and had plenty of ideas on the latter. The one question that seemed to have her stumped was when I asked, “What would you charge for sex?”
“What do you mean?” she looked aghast. I had crossed a line.
“I am sorry.”
An icy silence followed.
We were a little over forty-five minutes into the journey when she said, “I could eat.” Her face looked straight ahead.
I pulled into the Plattekill rest area. Isabella said she had to call her sister, so I handed her some change. I got us some coffee and donuts and waited in line at the cash register. I didn’t complain about the line because I could hear her on the pay phone from where I stood.
“…he’s the kindest, most ignorant person ever to exist, and I’m the cruelest and coldest woman on earth.”
I figured that was a reference to my ill-fated question.
“He seems to be able to look past my cold hard exterior and bring out the best of me.”
There was a long pause before Isabella spoke again. “I know he has a girlfriend, but I believe in destiny. I think he is meant for me.”
“…he is so much more than that, but I’ve got to go. I will call you when I get there.”
We were back on the road. Our cabin is an hour away.
“What exactly do you do?” she said, interrupting my thoughts. I was glad she was talking again.
“I build websites and try and maximize site traffic.”
She looked quizzically. “In simple language, please. I haven’t quite understood the whole fuss about the internet.”
“I get more people to visit a website and stay longer at them. How about you?. You are very bright. Did you ever consider going to college?”
Isabella grinned. “Yeah, but college can’t teach you everything. I wanted to learn directly from living.”
When we got to our resort, she wrapped her hand around mine, and we headed to the lobby. The check-in at Alpine Woods was followed by a lazy lunch when we savored items from the seasonably vegetable-focused menu and sat under large trees in the corner of the room. Isabella soon slipped into the mood inspired by the rustic vibe.
Our cabin was one of two standalone units on the property—an open-plan design. Isabella surveyed the room and said, “Thank you. I am looking at my best ever weekend.”
I turned and walked over to the leather loveseat and motioned for her to join me, but she was taking in the room and the view of the woods outside. The evening sun was casting long shadows.
“Isabella…..” I began to say, but she turned from looking outside and interrupted. “Call me Izzy.”
“Izzy, that rolls off the tongue,” I said as I turned on some jazz.
Izzy started swaying to the beat. “I love dancing.”
A sundress enhances the feminine form; this one enhanced hers. The thin shoulder straps revealed sun-kissed bare shoulders while the V-neck accentuated cleavage. The dress tapered at the waist and then flared out to frame her hips. At the same time, the low cut of the dress drew attention to her shapely inner thighs, and the yellow of the dress contrasted with her tanned legs.
Her movement animated her body and enhanced her sensuality. She gathered and lifted her shoulder-length hair to reveal the length of her neck. She touched her hips and legs as she moved. The eyes fluttered, and her head tilted back as if her body reacted to her touch. Izzy then let her hands work one of her shoulder straps to reveal one breast. Her fingers pinched a taut nipple and then slipped the second shoulder strap to show both breasts. She placed her hands on her hips and swung them from side to side, occasionally bending forward at her waist. The breasts had a life of their own, swaying in a different direction from her body and changing shape with her movements, lengthening as she bent towards me. She would cup her breasts, squeeze and release them; they would sway and jiggle under their weight.
My cock, swollen and erect, began to ache, and I moved my hand down to start stroking my member. Izzy seeing this acknowledgment, gave a broad smile, shook her hair about her shoulders, and continued to sway.
“Do you want to see more?” Izzy said with curled lips.
“Please,” I heard myself say.
She straightened up, turned her back to me, tossed her hair to one side, and looked back over the other shoulder. Her well-rounded waist had arrested the slide of her dress. Izzy peeled the dress off each time she rocked. Her derriere appeared in a slow reveal. It was shapely and tanned, and each sway heightened my sexual desire, and I felt like instantly consummating my libido. Finally, the last of her dress was peeled away and fell to the floor. She wore a black lace thong with thin straps that were almost undetectable. Izzy stepped out of the ring cast by her dress and spread her legs further apart.
“Are you going to make love to me?” Izzy asked as her hips continued to sway.
“Yes, passionate love.”
My hands reached out to her when she commanded, “I want you to keep your hands perfectly still. You mustn’t touch my body until I permit you.”
She had created a game, and I wanted to play it. She turned to face me and slowly hooked two fingers over the thin strings high on her hips. She moved her hips back and forth and peeled the black lace thong off her hips. It dropped to the floor. She moved forward, then mounted my lap again, her full ripe tits and those beautiful pink nipples directly in front of my eyes. She lowered her hips until her naked pussy pressed into my lap. Izzy then began grinding on me back and forth. I wanted to reach up and touch her nipples, but I resisted the urge until I was given permission. She smiled as her vulva slithered along the firmness buried in my pants.
Finally, I was rewarded for my patience and given permission. I slowly placed my hands on her rocking hips; I let them move back and forth as she continued her dance. I moved my hands down to her hips again. I directed her movements more, pressing down hard as her vulva slithered over my cock head. Her fingers slid into my slacks to capture the raging monster buried within. She moaned deeply as her hand circled the cock shaft and stroked up. She moved her lips to my ear and whispered, “Oh god, I want this inside me!” before biting on my ear lobe.
Izzy lifted her hips, and as she did, her hand pulled my cock from its confines, exposing the shaft. I pushed my slacks down as far as possible, exposing my member to reveal it in its full glory. Pointing to the bronze clawfoot tub at the end of the room, she said, “Let’s make love in the tub, and after that, we can sail the Hudson in it.”
“That should be one great adventure,” I chimed in.
She offered me her hand while I stood up. She grasped my cock and led me to the tub. I turned on the faucet, stepped in, laid back, and waited for the water to rise. Izzy slipped around and got to her knees in the tub, water sloshing onto the floor. She straddled my lap and leaned against me, her breasts crushed against my chest. Izzy reached under the water and positioned my penis. She lowered herself onto it, taking it inside her with a sigh. With her hands on my shoulders, Izzy rolled her hips and bit her lip at the sensations.
“I think you’re my bronco, and I’m going to break you.” My head was still back over the tub’s edge, my eyes closed.
“Babe,” I moaned, “You already got me in your stable, and I’m not going anywhere.” My hands slipped from the tub’s edge under the water to her waist, and I growled, “But I’m not broken yet.”
I pulled her down hard on me, and she let out a whoop and started pumping her hips hard, rising along my length and plunging herself down onto me again, driving like a piston. The bath water sloshed back and forth in the tub as she rode me, waves crashing on our bodies and splashing out onto the floor. She kissed me hard, letting me run my tongue into her mouth, and tried to slam down harder onto me. I let my hips rise to meet her.
“I’m gonna break you, Kabir,” Izzy cried, her body singing with joy as her orgasm crested.
“You keep trying!” I growled as I rose with my hips, driving myself into my love.
“I’m gonna break,” she screamed, letting loose a long, rolling squeal. Her body was rigid, upright, and shaking with the force of her orgasm, and I roared as I felt the orgasm deep inside her. When my body finally relaxed, I slid down until my jaw was even with the surface of the rolling water. Izzy fell forward, her hands on the edge of the tub over my head, her breasts hanging over my face. Looking down into my eyes, she whispered, “I’m gonna break you someday.”
“I know it, babe,” I said seriously. “I know you will.”
I studied Izzy’s face as she slept. A softness had descended on it. The sheets rose and fell gently, following her breath’s undulations. Her bright blue toenails peeped from under the sheets. My penis had gotten erect just watching her. The mattress was soft but firm, so I sat cross-legged, and I decided to perform a tantric kriya that I had done over a thousand times. I began contracting my PC muscle. When I felt the tingling in my perineum, I inhaled and drew the sensation away from the perineum toward my anus and spine by squeezing my buttocks tightly. I rocked my spine back and forth as if I were riding a horse, which helped the energy move up.
As the sensations reached my skull’s base, I gently tucked in my chin to allow the feeling to move from the spine into my head. I rolled my eyes which sent the vital force up to the crown of my head. My erection had decreased, suggesting I had transformed the sexual energy into its orgasmic potential. I repeated this step a few times to build up that energy and swirled that vitality in my head many times. There was a warmth and tingling like an orgasm. I was a little lightheaded, so I touched my tongue to my palate and let the life force flow down. First, to the front of my face – between my eyebrows. Then down to my nose, throat, heart, and solar plexus. Finally, I let the life force travel to my navel.
I must have been at this for about twenty minutes when I heard Izzy’s voice. “Mind telling me what is going on?”
She had stirred awake and was looking up at me with curiosity.
“Meditating for the two of us. The more I relax into myself, the greater the possibility of being able to receive the incredible amount of energy generated in intercourse. Also, entraining my internal energy circuits will ensure they will be ready to carry this energy to the various energy centers along the spine and finally to the head, where the energy ends any thinking. The resulting orgasm trans that energy into vital energy that I store in my navel center.”
“So what will you do with all that energy in the navel center?” she responded, her voice betraying a note of amusement.
“That’s what builds one vitality, and that readies me for more sex,” I said with a smile.
“I like that,” she said as she broke into laughter.
It was going to be a hectic day. I had suggested we go hiking on Slide Mountain and then lunch at Woodstock before heading back to our cabin. Slide mountain rose like a massive, rock-bound fortress from the plain-like expanse. The trail is considered moderate, and the summit at over 4000 feet is one of the highest peaks in the Catskills. There were primitive woods. Wild cherry, beech, and maple. We encountered a trout brook hurrying, loitering, deepening around a great boulder, and gliding over grey stone and pebbles completely clear of sediment. There was an occasional lyrical song of a wren. The wind, fitful and petulant, portended rain.
“I’d never climbed a mountain,” Izzy protested as we moved from the flats and hit the steeper parts of the trail. Isabella’s t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers were not an ideal hiking combination. I had argued with her about it, but that was her final choice.
“You will thank me for the view from the summit,” I reasoned.
“That is 4000 feet, and these rocks have already begun to kill my feet.”
I tried to rationalize her fears away and corrected her, “2000 feet.”
Loose shale was the rule. It had begun to rain slightly. The traffic seemed to be all directed downwards, and I noticed the hikers were cordial but especially friendly to Izzy, who engaged them with friendly banter. I saw more than a few glances from men as we passed them, their eyes darting up and down her body. Her t-shirt, now almost transparent, showcased her breasts as they jiggled and her nipples as they stood out proudly.
“You’re certainly turning some heads,” I laughed. “Having fun?”
“It makes me feel so sexy,” she whispered, kissed me lightly on my cheek, and took my hand as we pushed boldly on and up.
The top of Slide Mountain is flat and has about the same area as a soccer field. At the top, there was stunted growth of spruce and fir and a 360 view on all sides. There was a large rock outcropping, and on its top was a plaque dedicated to the writer and naturalist John Burroughs. Here the works of man dwindle. Izzy had wandered off to take in the views, so I sat down to meditate. Every object below was dwarfed; the valley of the Hudson was only a wrinkle on the earth’s surface. I discovered with a feeling of surprise that the great thing was the earth itself.
The heat from the rocks radiated a warm glow. I used the sensation of the heat to release my tension into the ground. After a few minutes, there appeared to be no distinction between where my body ended and the ground began. I felt like my body was rooted in and included the full depths of the earth – a sensation of being part of a greater whole. It must have been twenty minutes before I felt Izzy ease herself onto my crossed legs. I opened my eyes to see that she had stripped completely. I felt completely open to her presence and greeted her with a full embrace. We had spontaneously settled onto the YabYum posture. Soon she was forcefully kissing me. I had felt the rise of my sexual energy, and a kiss seemed to send vitality into her. It was as if our embrace had generated a circuit between us. It was a profoundly healing few minutes. My ankle bones pressed against the rock below began to protest. The clouds had come down and enveloped us; the grandeur and solemnity of the hills quickly returned. We headed back down.
Riding into Woodstock, I was not surprised to be greeted by the 60’s looks, long hair, casual attire, beaded necklaces, sandals, and bare feet. As we strolled the streets, we heard the sounds of acid rock and Indian music. After lunch, we decided to check out a local favorite. The Banyan Tree offered titles on religion, spirituality, philosophy, metaphysics, and shelves that included candles, crystals, incense, and tarot cards. Visitors drank complimentary herbal tea while new-age music cascaded through the speakers. The store seemed a magnet for lost souls. I picked up a cup of tea and sat down with a book on tantra. Izzy pulled up a chair and joined me, and I pointed to words in the book. The language was esoteric.
“One steals the red essence – the tana of the woman.
Unite this tana with the prana in the central channel.
One raises this prana to the head,
Where the prana kills dualistic thought;
This then manifests as bliss and emptiness in the heart.”
To me, the words echoed the dream I had of Aphrodite. Izzy just rolled her eyes.
“I shouldn’t expect you to read into this twilight language. It was designed to be opaque to the uninitiated but instructive to the serious practitioner.”
I noticed her face had taken a look of seriousness, so I continued, “In the tantric tradition, the male takes the energy of desire generated by his sexual attraction to his consort. He mixes this energy with his vitality, which ends all thinking when raised to the head. This transformed energy then descends into his heart center, where it manifests as a sense of connectedness to all and a deep sense of compassion.”
She was intrigued and asked seriously, “And where does that leave me?”
“You will be my queen and treated with the greatest wisdom and compassion.” The words that flowed out of my mouth seemed to come from another place, but they served to reassure Isabella.
“I can live with that.” She smiled warmly, put her head against my shoulder, breathed deeply, and released her breath in a sigh.
When we returned to the resort, Izzy suggested she would like to try the sauna. She came back looking quite relaxed and happy. I ordered from the house; dinner and cocktails. The cocktails put us both in a mellow mood, so I suggested that we try and put some of the tantra to practice. She seemed intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”
I suggested a massage. We locked eyes and hands and then, following an approving nod, undid the button on her jeans, and then we both completed undressing. I began by lightly massaging her whole body to feel connected to her and every part of myself. I laid my left hand on her lower belly to keep it warm and, with my right hand, gave a few light caresses to the lips of her vulva. I heard her whimper, “Yes, oh!”
I laid the palms of both my hands on her pussy, closed my eyes, and said, “Yoni, I honor you and thank you for all the pleasure and delights you have given Izzy. Let’s go on this journey together. You tell me when to stop and when to go deeper. I am here with you.”
“Remember, you will be receiving, but you will be guiding, too,” I explained. “Let me know when you feel a nodule of tension when to stop, when to go deeper ….”
Her hips bucked when my hand slid back through her pubic patch to reach between her legs. Her instinct was to push my hand away gently. I held her hand down and slowly traced the outer lips of her yoni. Soft moans came from Izzy. Her labia were engorged, silky, and slick under my fingertips as I stroked them up and down the entire length of her vulva. She sighed in pleasure as I pressed a finger against that wet opening. Izzy spread her legs slightly so I could explore deeper. I could smell the scent of her excitement as the warm wetness engulfed my hand. I pressed gently, looking for points of tension. Izzy exhaled deeply. “You can press harder.”
“Now,” I said, “let’s go a little deeper.”
I probed a little deeper, and Izzy moaned again softly. I took my time just feeling and exploring her tender flesh. She let out a final groan, and her whole body just shuddered. It seemed like her orgasm lasted for a full minute of intensity. Her legs pushed up, lifting her entire upper torso off the bed in a stiff plank, her body trembling before collapsing back onto the bed. Her hips convulsed several times, with aftershocks sending tremors across her stomach. I could see her stomach rising and falling in rhythm with her heavy breathing and her rapid heartbeat pulsing through the vein on her neck. She was breathing deeply, adding slight rotation movements with her pelvis. I pushed two fingers as deep inside her as my fingers would reach. She arched her pelvis, pushing her yoni against my hand to drive my fingers in deeper. Suddenly I felt a sore point of tension on the upper left side of her yoni. We had encountered one of the nodules.
“I feel an explosion of heat … tension,” she exclaimed. I stopped and pressed deeper on the point.
A few seconds later, she explained, “My whole world has turned red—blood red. Your finger is red; I am red; you are red, and my whole body is drenched in blood. The whole room is red. I am overwhelmed by the emotional energy of Mars, of anger.”
I was out of my depths but tried to stay connected to her experience. “What do you see?”
“I see violence. I see myself ready to flower into love, being mishandled by incompetent boyfriends and left dissatisfied, my body drizzled with their sperm. I see my ex-husbands banging away like fucking machines and using me for their arousal. Now I see myself seducing men to manipulate them, using my sexuality as a hook to lead them on, extracting money from them, and demanding gifts. I felt the times when I had fucked and not felt anything. It is a red circus.”
I had found the point all right—the point of cosmic anger inside her Yoni, the repository of wild, unloving lust and revenge. In one decisive movement, I sat up, as did she, and we found ourselves face to face. My fingers were still on the point inside her, pressing deep, as she started growling like a lioness in the jungle.
“Grrrr!!…………Grrrr!!……….Grrrr!!” The grunts and growls were coming from deep inside her. They rose through her belly, chest, and throat to finally explode with all the vitality of life – all thrown out at me, all to be thrown at MAN. I tried to be unfazed, sitting in front of her, my face inches away, my finger still pressing on her point.
I looked into her eyes, growling back. “Rrrr… Rrrr…” I tried to do my best tiger imitation.
As strongly as she growled, I tried to roar back. There was a difference between our roars. Hers was authentic and coming from the depths of her being, while mine felt forced. I worked to maintain the mood, to enable the most profound catharsis. My finger was on the nodule point, inviting her to release all. We continued with the deepest screaming and growling for twenty minutes. My roar was sincere enough to have gained Izzy’s respect and appreciation. She lay down again and asked for the massage to stop. I removed my hand and rested it on her Yoni for a moment to “close the door,” Her eyes shifted left and right, and I assumed past experiences filtered through her mind. She finally looked up at me and said, “My insides feel like Jell-o.”
I lay side by side with her, embracing her, covering our bodies with a blanket. She lay there long, just staring into space as her breathing and heart finally slowed down, and she responded, “I’ve never been touched like this before.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You are most welcome,” I said as I kissed her.
The ride back to Morgantown was pleasant. The open road in the late morning was a fantastic place to replay the moments from our trip.
“Your face practically glows.” I was not flattering, Izzy. It was for all to see.
“I have never been more relaxed and calm. I must say that some of that weird tantra stuff worked.”
“Thank you for indulging me yesterday,” I said in gratitude.
“My yoni feels so healed I can take in the whole world.” Izzy paused and then asked, “Why don’t I leave some of my clothes in your apartment? I can spend my evenings and nights there. I am sure the kids won’t mind.”
The events were moving too fast for me. “Let me think about it.”
