Chapter 1: Greetings

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Fisting, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Greetings - What does yoga have in common with the Kama Sutra? the history has been lost. Only science can shed light on the mystery. I helped some visitors come to their own conclusions. Most of my stories rely heavily on personal experience but this is complete fiction. Sure, it includes where I live and how fast I paddle but I've never had sex with anyone named Bev. Sorry to disappoint. I hope you enjoy the fiction.

Some years summer seems to stick around longer than others and that’s fine by me. The best thing about it wasn’t hot days, but evenings that weren’t very cool. So I could start my day early and without a parka. Walking two blocks east, I stopped at Franco’s house, picked up my board and paddle and continued up 25th Street to the beach. I crossed a deserted Palm Blvd to the access pathway and made my way onto the sand just as the sky began its turn from grey to pink. Trekking across tide-packed sand with sandpipers skittering up and down the beach looking for breakfast I looked out at the glassy sea and the possibility of a fast time.

Once school’s back in session it’s rare for me to have a Friday off and I planned to make the most of it. Pelicans streamed overhead in lengthy formations; the dawn patrol one local artist had called them. In knee-deep water, I dropped my board into the Atlantic and stepped on. I pushed off and paddled out through small choppy waves, my arms slowly warming to the task. By the time I’d cleared the tiny breakers the sand was gone from between my toes and I turned north toward Deewees Island for a ten mile, two hour workout.

After a typically erratic start I had settled into a good rhythm as I pulled abreast the red roofed house I used to mark the start of my personal race and started my timer. Seven months ago I’d started the season with a glassy smooth sea and a 2:15 time. I felt like I could hold a good speed for the ten mile course and planned to shatter that time. A light offshore breeze was not enough to make a difference and a steady stream of dolphins traveling south helped occupy my mind.

The sun climbed slowly behind light cirrus clouds and would soon be blinding but not yet. In the distance in front of me I could see tiny fishing boats trolling south from parts unknown and I knew that behind me would be cargo ships entering Charleston Harbor. I let my mind wander around, flitting from an upcoming jujitsu tournament to my own students, my car in the shop, and the chores I could knock out in the afternoon to give me a free weekend. The trick was to let your mind wander enough so the workout wasn’t boring but not so much that you lost concentration on your pace.

Nearly an hour later, the sun cleared the clouds and I squinted toward Beachwood Villas on Isle of Palms and found my blue-roofed marker just in time to make my turn. I pivoted right and dug in, trying to regain my pace after a slowing turn but the wind had shifted and I couldn’t get my speed back. Maybe it had always been at my back and I hadn’t noticed. My watch showed just under an hour but I’d have to work hard to match my outbound speed. If I could I’d have my best time of the summer by nearly ten minutes. With the sun at my back I watched the early morning walkers slowly grow in number. Some walked for exercise and others meandered along the waterline, looking for shark’s teeth left behind at high tide during the night. There are sun-worshippers and beach people. These were beach people, my kind of people.

With the sun at my back it was easier to see the beach and a couple of flags, one American and one the blue and white of South Carolina showed the wind wasn’t directly offshore but a front quartering wind, maybe two to three knots certainly enough to slow me on my way back. Making the round trip in under two hours was a fading hope but I kept working for it and with less than a half mile to go and my shoulders burning, I gave it everything I had, coasting past the red house in two hours and two minutes. Not bad with the breeze but still a bit disappointing.

I eased the short stretch to 25th Street and turned toward the beach and tried to time my approach so I could catch a wave to shore but they were so small and windblown that it didn’t really matter. I’d gotten a good workout, the sunrise was pretty, and any day that starts with dolphins and fishing boats is a good one. In knee deep water, I scooped my board up and hefted it onto my head. My shoulders were too sore to carry it so I let my neck do the work. Trudging up the beach I saw one of the first sun-worshippers getting a very early start, reclining on her sling back blue Ostrich beach chair. Brunette and maybe twenty five, oversized sunglasses partially obscured what was undoubtedly a pretty face. Still cool, she had on a black cover-up that wouldn’t do much to keep her warm but at least it didn’t hide her very nice legs. It’s the calves. Even relaxed, hers looked like she was wearing high heels. Only dancers and athletes have calves like that. She seemed to be watching me while alternately working both her cellphone and laptop. I got the sensation I thought a model might have as an artist painted them and it was a bit unsettling.

During summer months, Sullivan’s Island has a high percentage of tourists who rent a house for a week. The houses along the first two rows nearest the beach usually have room for 8 to 12 occupants so they split the rent and the population of transients skyrockets. Locals get used to it and most of the tourists behave. Once school starts the number of tourists drops off dramatically and gets older and with thinner crowds visitors are easier to spot. She wasn’t a regular. I would have remembered. She was sitting right next to my path home and I didn’t mind. I stood a little straighter as I walked. If I’d had a gut I would have sucked it in.

“Nice workout?” she asked when I was within conversational distance.

“Not as good as I’d hoped.” I happily slowed, then stopped as she followed up.

“How far?”

“Ten miles and a bit more for warm up and cool down, not quite eleven.”

“That seems like a pretty long distance to paddle. You must do that regularly.”

“I try to do at least five miles five days a week in the summer. I’ll put in a long workout like this once or twice a month. When the water cools off, I knock off for the season. I was hoping to break two hours but I missed it.”

“You’re a year round resident,” she said, a statement rather than a question.

“There’s a few of us but we don’t mind visitors. Here with friends?”

“Five of us. We drove from Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Stopped in Nashville on the way, then Asheville to see the estate. We leave Sunday.”

“Family or friends?” I asked, hoping it was friends.

“Friends. The five of us have been in the same yoga class for three years or more and decided to do something together besides yoga. It’s been fun so far. Why don’t you put your board down and tell me what we missed. I’m sure we’ll come back.”

So I did. I dropped my board next to her and sat down facing the ocean, then told her about some of the mansions, the best restaurants and the rest of the tourist sites and added a few of my favorite out of the way places as well. It was the first trip to the Lowcountry for each of them and they were already looking forward to their next visit to the Lowcountry. But she said they were also interested in exploring something they hadn’t planned on.

“When we started this trip it was just for fun, a way to get out of Missouri and see someplace new. What made it even more fun was learning about each other. For example, I had no idea that Nancy had been married or that Lori coached cheerleaders. I’m Ann, by the way.”

“Danny,” I said and shook her hand. We laughed that we had been talking for thirty minutes without exchanging names.

“Nancy and Bev had been married but they’re divorced now. Colleen is single and so am I. We just didn’t know anything about each other so this has been fun.”

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve learned about each other on the trip?”

“I’m going to hang onto that for a bit. Let’s just say that our conversation took an interesting turn in Nashville. We stopped at a bookstore to research our new topic and got into some pretty animated debate and haven’t settled it at all. Probably time for some science to get involved, perhaps an experiment or two. Three of us are ready for that, one is definitely not and the other is on the fence.”

“Now, you’ve got my curiosity up. What’s the topic of debate?”

“Remember, I said I was going to hang onto that for now. If the other two come around, we’ll need some help with our experiment. Would you be interested?”

“I’m a science teacher so, yeah, I’d be interested. Never know what you’re going to learn.”

“You have no idea.” She asked a lot of questions about me and some seemed a bit personal for a first encounter but she was pretty and I didn’t mind. We talked about other things for a few more minutes and I pointed up 25th toward my house and gave her my number. Ann promised to call me if they wanted my help and when I pressed, she said that if the other two didn’t want to try the experiment she would let me know about it after they left town. Of course that made their science experiment even more mysterious. There’s so much information available on the internet that not too many people bothered to experiment any more. Whatever it was, I was interested if Ann was involved and I almost asked her to dinner but she was with friends. Plus, she had my number.

That evening, Ann called and said the other two had come around and actually become almost enthusiastic about it. The next day was Saturday and she asked me to come their beach house at 10 the next morning and “please don’t wear yourself out paddling.” I’m one of those guys that shakes presents before Christmas morning because the suspense kills me. This was killing me and I had no way to shake it.

Having happily refrained from wearing myself out paddling and with clipboard and pencil in hand, I knocked on their door at a minute to ten. Ann let me in with a big smile and together we walked upstairs to the great room facing the beach. Almost every rental has one huge room that faces the ocean with a large windowed front and at least a small porch and theirs was no different. The décor was the typical sand dollar and pelican sort of thing and the room looked large enough to host a party of 40 or more. Her four friends were seated around a coffee table and when I walked in the talking stopped. Ann introduced us with a brief although unusual description.

“Hey everybody, this is Danny.” I smiled and gave them an uncomfortable half wave.

“Danny, this is Nancy,” she said pointing to a petite blonde, possibly approaching thirty. Like the other ladies, she was wearing yoga pants and a loose top. Her hair was up in a loose bun, her blue eyes sparkled and she smiled back at me, raising her coffee cup in a sort of salute. I liked her. She was very pretty and looked mischievous. “She’s divorced. The guy she married failed to show up sending turdman instead. That was two years ago.” I wasn’t at all sure what that would have to do with anything but I mouthed the word “sorry” to her and she arched her eyebrows and shoulders in an “it is what it is” motion and Ann moved to her next friend.

“This is Lori. She’s happily married and has been for ten years. The experiment was her idea, by the way.” I wanted to ask, “What experiment?” but waited. They’d tell me soon enough. Lori was also very pretty. Like the other women, she was thin and fit; yoga had been good to them all. Her brown hair and eyes and welcome smile were very attractive. I thought her husband must be a lucky guy.

“Bev is the newest to join our yoga class. She started coming a little over two years ago when she was in the middle of a divorce. Her ex also belonged to the Mr. Turd club but he was pretty well off financially and now, Bev is too. Can I tell him?” she asked Bev and she nodded back. “She had ballooned up during the divorce and since she joined our class she’s dropped 60 pounds, all the way down to a size 6 and we’re all pretty proud of her.” I couldn’t imagine her at 60 pounds heavier but she sure looked good. Bev was another brunette, tending toward red. I stopped trying to imagine a heavier Bev. She was giving me a serious once over, twice over and more. I almost felt like posing for her. I flexed my arms a little and she looked up at my face and smiled, having been caught but it didn’t matter.

“Colleen is the youngest member of our group, three years out of college but she’s been doing yoga the longest and is thinking about opening her own studio. She’d be good at it and has encouraged each one of us. She dances competitively, does triathlons and basically makes the rest of us sick with envy.” Colleen’s incredible red hair was trying to take over the room and doing a fair job of it. It was long, wavy and wild and together with spectacular green eyes and plenty of freckles made her eye candy of the first degree. All five women were attractive but Colleen was far beyond that. She was stunning.

“And you?” I asked. We had talked but I hadn’t heard her story.

“And I’m Ann,” she smiled and curtseyed and it was very much out of place so we all laughed. “I’m single and like it that way, at least until the right non-turd comes along. After working at a couple of dead-end jobs, I’m back in school and have one semester of clinicals left to get my BSN. So that’s us. I think it would be best if Lori told you what our experiment is, since it was her idea.” I thought they might want to know about me but then found out they already did.

Lori stood and looked at the ladies and asked, “Ladies?” and she was obviously referring to me. They smiled and nodded approval and I had absolutely no clue what they were approving of; my tan, maybe. “Ann saw you paddle out and then back in yesterday and suggested you might be a good candidate. Before I tell you our experiment, I want you to understand we’re not a bunch of flakes or floozies and we’re taking this seriously. Bev,” she said nodding to her.

“Danny, we already know a lot about you,” Bev began. “But if I get any of it wrong or there is something you need to add just say so. Much of it came from a Post and Courier article that told how you captured an abusive cheat and rescued a damsel in distress. We know that you purchased your home years ago, your credit is good and that you don’t have any arrests. Except for a couple of tickets, you’re a regular Boy Scout. We know you study at least two different martial arts and got your blue belt in jujitsu recently and that if your pace is correct for yesterday’s workout you should probably race. When I asked your neighbor Franco if you would be a good person to teach me how to paddle board he had nothing but praise for you and told how you helped out his autistic son and that was sweet. Ann took some pictures of you walking in from paddling yesterday. Colleen said you are a stud muffin and we agree. There are only two things we need to know that we don’t.” She had nailed my life story in under a minute. It was both impressive and a bit depressing. Only two things they didn’t know.

Colleen stood up and waited for Lori’s cue. “I’m not sure how much you know about yoga but here goes. It’s ancient. No one really knows how old it is but it’s old. Old and from India. There are several mostly modern variations and many of those variations were invented for commercial reasons. Yoga can be easy and slow enough for an 80 year old to do or fast and hard enough to give the best athlete a serious workout. I’m going to quickly do a few poses so you can see what it looks like but just the poses won’t reveal much of the philosophy.

I knew a little bit about it and was familiar with the first dozen poses or so. I’d seen them done and done some of them myself but Colleen was incredibly fluid and graceful. When she moved into the scorpion pose, her forearms supporting her with her legs bent backwards over her head so her feet were dangling by the top of her head, I knew they were in a different realm. Then she pushed up into a handstand scorpion pose and my mouth hung open. She lowered herself so she was resting on her upper torso and allowed her feet to continue down to rest beside her face, the formidable face pose. She performed a few more but none were as impressive, at least to me, as that scorpion pose.

“What do you think?” Lori asked.

“I think I need to quit jujitsu and take up yoga. That was amazing.”

“Anything else?” I hesitated and she could see that I needed encouragement. She nodded for me to go ahead.

“Well, Colleen is very beautiful and the poses are really ... hot.”

She smiled. “Yes, they are, aren’t they? And that’s where our conversation took us on the drive over. India has a billion people. There’s a lot of sex going on in India. Yoga is from India and so is the world’s oldest sex manual, the Kama Sutra. We thought there might be a connection between yoga and the Kama Sutra. So we stopped at a Barnes and Nobel in Nashville and picked up a couple of books to see if that guess was right. It doesn’t say it, not in a straightforward way, but we all see the connection and I’m sure you would to. And then our discussion took an interesting turn. We each have our favorite yoga poses. Sometimes it’s the pose that comes easiest or most challenging or perhaps one of the first difficult poses we mastered. Bev likes the simple tree pose because its focus is on balance and it helps her center her world. We thought that if there were a connection it would make sense if we also found our favorite positions from the Kama Sutra. We argued for hours about how much of a correlation there might be but never settled on an answer we could agree on. Yoga can be done by yourself, in fact, even in a crowded class it’s still very much an individual exercise. But sex is ... interactive. Well, we each came up with our top five positions from the Kama Sutra that we thought would be the most enjoyable for us. It was sort of embarrassing at first but we worked through that and became very open. Our lists are definitely unique and their correlation to our favorite yoga poses was interesting but not direct. The problem is, we need to interact to find out if our theories are correct.” I had a good idea where this was going and my shorts were becoming unbearably tight. A couple of the ladies noticed my discomfort and I was probably blushing. They smiled. I felt a bit like the fly in the spider’s web.

“So there are two questions we have for you. First, are you disease free because we all are.” I nodded, “And the second, Mr. Science Guy, are you willing to help us discover our favorite positions?” Holy crap.

I looked around the room. “I’m looking for the crew from Candid Camera. This is how you mess with the locals, right?”

“Not at all. We’re serious.”

I looked at them sitting there, anxiously waiting to see if this stranger would have sex with them not just once but multiple times. “I’m not sure this is for real but I’m going to pretend it is. There are five of you and each of you have five positions to test, presumable with me. That would mean having sex 25 times and that’s an awful lot for one guy.”

Ann answered, “We’re for real. We’ve been talking about this for days. We really want to know. It’s become something of an obsession and the only way to really know is to compare one position to another with as many variables removed as possible. That means one guy. There are other possible candidates but we like you. You’re athletic, kind on the eyes and we really like that you rescued a damsel in distress and helped Franco’s son. If you’re willing you’re it. We’re far from home, we’ve checked you out and this would be totally private and anonymous. We’ve all thought about a process for this experiment. Normally, you think of sex ending in orgasm but we could actually come up with the answers to our questions without anyone having one. Not you, not us. It’s not the orgasm that’s important but the sensation each position gives.” My disappointment was obvious. “Possible to do without an orgasm, but not desirable. We can also try to max out on orgasms and find the answer and I think we all agree that would be a plus,” she said smiling. “So, the second question is, are you interested in helping out?”

I looked them over one by one. I’d never been with more than one woman at a time and few had been as pretty as these five. Colleen was drop dead gorgeous, Ann was over the top desirable, Bev looked like she needed some serious sexual release and so did Nancy, the two divorcees. Lori looked like she had some challenging positions ready. I doubted that I could possibly make it through 25 sexual encounters but if that’s what they wanted I would die trying. “When do we start?”

“Good. We have a couple of things we need to get straight,” Lori said and they all laughed. “This is a one-time deal for us. None of us has ever done anything like this before and we’re trusting you to be the Boy Scout we think you are. What happens here stays here. That’s not just for you, but us too. We all live in the same small town so it’s actually more important for us than you. The second is that we each direct what’s happening. We each have our chance to experiment and we’re in charge of our own individual experiment. That’s not negotiable. Next, is that all our experiments are done in the open. As awkward or uncomfortable as that sounds, we’ll each have an audience. We talked about this issue for a long time. It’s for our protection so nothing gets out of hand in private but also for our learning. We have different positions picked out but we might change those when we see what someone else did. If you and I start off with a position everyone thinks will be great and I hate it, they might change their mind. Ideally, each of us will have an orgasm with each position. That would be outstanding but if that were going to happen, you’d have to have some pretty amazing self-control but that’s the goal. What’s the most you’ve ever cum in one session, Danny?”

Privacy was completely out the window, that’s for sure. “It sounds like you’ve taken your planning seriously. I can’t believe that you’re willing for me to be your sex partners. I’m a bit overwhelmed by it. Flattered for sure. I’ve cum four times over about a three hour period and the woman I was with was a sexual animal. Obviously, I’ll have to bring you to orgasm without cumming myself and I’ll have to do that a lot. If I could give you each five orgasms, I’d want Guinness to be here for the record but I am more than willing to try.” I love a challenge and this was the best ever.

“That’s the spirit. Our goal is not only to make you last as long as possible but to help these ladies break your record. We’ve got all day and I think we can drain you five times at any rate. We’re all on birth control so that’s not an issue.” I was giddy. “We’ve written down our list of positions and come up with an order that we think will help us get through all twenty five and still allow for some changes. We’ve got the illustrated Kama Sutra available for reference, pillows, yoga straps, the Murphy bed drops down if we want it, and an exercise ball for props. Danny, I don’t think the first round or two should matter but after a while, you might discover a better or worse chemistry with a couple of us. If that comes into play and we can switch that up to help you last longer, say so. I promise we won’t take offense. You have any questions before we get started?”

“No questions. I’m still looking for the Candid Camera guy to come out.”

Bev pulled the blinds so there would be enough light but still keep out prying eyes. Lori walked over to me, put her hand on my crotch, looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m up first and I want you to fuck me silly. Is that clear enough?” she asked and pulled her top off revealing a lacy pink bra then reached behind her and unclasped it. She shook her arms and it fell away revealing her beautiful chest. She had firm B or maybe even C cup breasts with small but stiff nipples a light pink only slightly lighter than her already pale areolas. She slid out of her yoga pants and put her hands on her hips. Very toned, all the way around and I could see the outline of her dark bush beneath light colored panties. “I love my husband and he’s a great guy but he’s stuck in a rut. I want to get him un-stuck. Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there and gawk. Drop your shorts.” I dropped my shorts.

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