by Coco Rogue
(08/22/07)
I am sitting naked on the deck of my cabin watching a May morning unfold on my winter-white skin.
My husband, a passionate white water kayaker, is in California making love to his favorite river for six weeks. In his absence,
I've taken a few lovers of my own.
I bring the soles of my feet together and lean forward, letting the weight of my elbows push my knees into my yoga mat. I feel the radiant hand of Sun sliding down the cobbled path of my vertebrae before he penetrates my low back and cleft with his heat. As I exhale, my pelvic floor melts, flooding my canal with warmth.
Wind, barely a breeze this early, lightly tickles my moist, splayed labial lips. I sink deeper into my forward bend, wishing I was flexible enough to kiss him there. I settle for resting my forehead on my ankles and inhaling the co-mingled fragrance of my sex and the sodden earth that he is swirling around the diamond-shaped bowl of my bent legs. I hold the stretch, intoxicated by the brew, until a light burning in the muscles of my lower back urges me to flow onward.
I straighten my spine and lift my torso until I can feel Wind awakening further to stroke my breasts. I run my pinky finger across my tongue, moisten it, and draw a spiraling path around my aureoles for him to follow. When he does, his touch, still cool and reminiscent of night, makes me shiver as my nipples harden. I spread my legs wide, arch my spine backwards and open myself to Sun, letting him drench me with his yellow tongue. I feel a flush of heat as he licks me from my vulva to my chin. Wind follows Sun's swath with cool insistent kisses that dimple my skin, sending an orgasmic chill across my flesh.
My hand drifts down across the plateau of my belly and floats like a pendulum, back and forth across my mound, enticing my lovers there. I separate my folds, exposing myself to them. The combination of Wind's chill and Sun's ardor is icy hot on my erect bud, like menthol. I shudder as the sensation permeates my sex and vibrates up my spine.
I pause and breathe, savoring the small spasms of pleasure that are as delicate and sweet as the wildflowers that are blooming all around me. I lie on my back, encouraging more tremors with my fingers and inhale deeply, engaging my breath as a vehicle to transport this ecstasy through my entire body. My skin tingles from my scalp to my toes.
I thrust my feet up towards the sky before lowering them behind my head for plow pose, stretching my hamstrings, my hips, my sex. I spread my legs and gush as my lovers simultaneously caress my offering. My fingers reach, interlace with theirs, and begin drumming against my wet swollen lips, sending percussive vibrations echoing down my sheath. I hold the pose, savoring the quivering at my cervix before sliding two fingers in to greet it.
My sheath responds immediately, clenching rhythmically around my fingers. I hold the pose for just a moment before I succumb to the urge to pulse. Sun and Wind dance at my entrance, warming me, cooling me, each time my fingers emerge from my slippery canal.
My neck begins to feel less than ecstatic so I lower my legs and flow forward into a seated forward bend. As I try to catch the breath that I lost somewhere in my last orgasm, I sway my body from side to side, letting my nipples graze across my thighs as Wind plays with the hair that has unwound from the single braid that hangs thick and heavy down my back. As Sun rises higher in the sky, his intensity, coupled with my arousal and the rising vigor of my practice, makes me sweat. The backs of my thighs are damp and sticky against the squishy foam of my yoga mat, my sex, like a marsh wedged between.
I roll over on to my belly and place my hands on either side of my breasts, letting my thumbs gently brush the edges of my nipples. I drive my clit downward, grounding my pelvis, then slowly unpeel the tacky flesh of my belly from the mat as I lift my torso into cobra pose. My head rolls slowly from side to side and I find myself giggling as Wind tickles my face with the wisps of blond hair that have escaped the tether of my braid. I roll my shoulders back and push my chest forward and up to Sun, opening my heart to him as I begin to pulse my clit against the hardness of the wood deck beneath my mat. I hold the pose, and inhale the unbridled essence of my lovers deep into my lungs, letting the vitality of spring permeate my every cell.
My clit begins to quiver as do the muscles of my arms that are beginning to feel the strain of maintaining this posture. I continue to hold, savoring the sensation of every muscle spasm -- the ones of pleasure, the ones of exertion -- until I feel heat rising from my core and exploding across my chest. A trickle of sweat drips down my ribcage, its path quickly cooled by Wind. Hot tears flow down my cheeks and before I even have a chance to contemplate their origins -- longing? bliss? loneliness? love? -- Wind wipes them away, making me realize there is really no need for definition. Everything is flowing: blood, breathe, sweat, tears, and I allow it all, for as long as I can, before lowering my torso down on to the mat.
I roll on to my back, completing my practice with stillness. As I slow my breath, I feel Wind and Sun settle in beside me. I relax in Shavasana, also known as the corpse pose. Funny, that name, because I feel so incredibly alive.
I hold the pose.
