Lust Love Ecstasy :

This is my first story. I wanted to thank John Doe, Sophie and VV for their many helpful comments. I hope to complete a series if my readers find this interesting.

In the prologue to this series, Kabir becomes an accidental voyeur. In the act of watching Isabella at the window, Kabir suddenly is thrown into beginning his journey of sexual exploration. In the rest of the series, I hope to explore how Kabir in taking on the journey of discovering his sexuality learns to distinguish between lust, love and ecstasy.

This story is protected by (c) copyright and may not be duplicated, reprinted, copied or placed on any Internet Website without permission of the author. All rights reserved.

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Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans - John Lennon

"I feel sorry for her situation, but I don't trust her person." Those were Sudha's parting words when she left my apartment for La Guardia airport. I didn't quite know what she was talking about. Isabella was the apartment manager of the Victorian house that I lived in and she was not part of any plan. In fact, I thought I had it all worked out. Perfectly matched girlfriend in Sudha. Dream career opening. Work in the most happening city. Residence in a natural paradise. But life was about to throw a wrinkle on those aims.

Sudha and I had begun as fellow graduate students from India. We were enrolled at Rice. Sudha was still finishing her degree in Houston. We shared many interests and seemed a perfect match. There was one area where we differed greatly. As a young adult I had grown to become curious about Tantra. In my mind, tantra held the magical possibilities of transforming sexual energy into spiritual ecstasy. As an adult, the study of the subject had become an obsession and I even found teachers and practices. Sudha was indulgent of my curiosity, but she was more interested in the non judgmental nature of tantric philosophy. She had grave concerns about the ethics surrounding the practices. So I was alone in my journey of pelvic rocking, delaying ejaculation, raising the sexual energy up the spine.

At 31, I had graduated and was looking forward to making a go at it in the Big Apple in a well-established Tech firm. 1999 was the peak of the Dot com era. While it was considered chic to live in Manhattan, I preferred rustic upstate New York. Morgantown was both a reasonable commute and a housing bargain. It was an industrial town that had known more prosperous days but the downtown had restaurants and coffeehouses as well as places to hear live music. The Palace Theatre was a 1920's movie palace that showed indie and classic films. Most importantly, it was a Hudson River town.

I lived in a Victorian house that sat on the top of the hill leading from the Hudson. A house divided. Divided into three apartments. A small flight of stairs led into the front porch. The large doorway opened into a central hallway. There was an apartment on the first level. A single flight of stairs took you to my apartment. There was an attic on the third level which had been converted into the third apartment.

Bill was African American and lived above. I saw little of him and knew him mostly by his footsteps as he came and left for his shifts as a driver for UPS. Isabella, in contrast, filled the house with a strong presence. She was Italian American and spoke her mind. In addition to being the tenant below, she also served as the apartment manager. So there was occasion to talk to her about the rent, mail and apartment maintenance. On those occasions, she barked her answers at me.

On asking her about the leaking faucet, she replied, "This whole place should be torn down."

"Am I your fucking secretary?" was her retort when I asked if she had seen a package for me.

There seemed nothing personal in her insults and cussing. They were doled out in equal measure to all who had occasion to engage with her. She appeared in her late 20's and was a mother of two boys and by their appearances suggested they had different fathers. The father of her last boy had left, so she was a single mother again. Her T- shirt captured the essence of her attitude.

Cup of Fuckoffee:

One splash of no one cares

A dash of kiss my ass

Add some fuck yous

Stir & shove it up your ass

But behind all that cussing was a woman who was attractive, elemental, and funny. She was popular with the men in the neighborhood who gathered around her like bears to a honeypot. The best of blue-collar Morgantown. Anthony's Plumbing, Cooper Pest Control, J K Painting. I knew their identities by their trucks and their work apparel. However, it seemed like they were a rotating cast of characters and the dalliances seemed to end pretty soon with harsh words and slamming of doors.

I was immersed in a world of algorithms and optimization. Algorithms that ensured consumers would stay on my client's website. In the evenings, as I took the train back from the city, I caught the glimpses of spring as the Metro made its way North up the Hudson valley. The nascent leaves had a soft green, and the ground was scattered with vivid blooms of crocuses, daffodils, irises and lilacs. As I drove up Crescent drive, it appeared like the steep hills had created an amphitheater for spectacular views of the Hudson with those delightful earthy smells.

Isabella's kids would surround my car as I drove in and would follow me up to the apartment where I would ask them about school, and they would in turn ask me about my work. In the absence of a stable male figure in their life, I was happy to serve as a role model. Isabella would send up requests through the kids for salt, sugar or cooking utensils. I wanted to be helpful so I would indulge. I thought maybe I should invite the kids and her up for dinner, but I left that invitation for another day.

Spring had rolled into summer and from my vantage Isabella transformed into a display of skin. Her revealing clothes: sundresses, tank tops and bikinis. And the occasions of revelation: the swell of her breasts as she power washed the house in her bikini, her round ass cheeks revealed by the thin ribbon of a thong as she lay sunbathing in the backyard, her pussy lips as she sat on the porch in a sundress without panties legs uncrossed.

Once, upon returning from work, just as I was about to shut the ignition, I saw a silhouette in the window above cast by a small table light. The bedroom was directly above and across from the parking lot. I saw it was Isabella's bedroom and the dancing shadows cast on the lace curtains suggested she was naked and swinging to the beat of a Britney Spears number. Her shoulder length hair looked wet which she soon wrapped in a towel. She was naked and her breasts swayed gently under their own weight. She cupped one in each hand, lifting and squeezing them to her chest before running her fingers over her nipples and down along her hips. I could feel my cock had begun to engorge with blood and grown hard to a full erection. I turned off the ignition. It was dark outside, so I reached into my pants, slowly stroked my cock and gently squeezed my balls. I began working the loose skin on my shaft, sliding it up and down like a sleeve, matching the rhythm of the music.

Soon, there was a very pleasant tingling at the root of my penis, and I felt the pressure of the fluids begin to build. I squeezed my perineum a few times and that had the effect of easing the pressure and spreading the tingling to the entire pelvic region. I resumed stroking my cock with increased pressure. I matched the stroking to the timing of her swaying hips. My heartbeat began to rise, my breathing became deeper but in shorter gasps and the seminal pressure seemed to be seeking release. I paused the stroking and contracted my pelvic muscles. The pressure eased again, and my pelvic muscles began to involuntarily contract as did the muscles around my anus. There was a warm glow in my groin.

Isabella, you have given me heaven tonight!!

This felt so real compared to masturbating to the images from Hustler or Sex.com.

Her hands glided over her ass cheeks, around her thighs and back up the slight bulge of the stomach to her breasts. She gave them each a gentle squeeze before reaching back, removing her towel and shaking her hair. She then strode straight to the window, took a hasty glance outside and then returned to dancing by her dresser. I froze. She might have heard the crunch of the gravel as I drove in and might have known of my presence. I hoped she had not seen me in the darkness.

Stop... now!

I thought to myself and removed my hand from my cock. It had gone limp.

I looked up at the window. The music was still playing, and the lights were on but Isabella was gone from view. It was time for me to leave. As I entered the central hallway, Isabella's door opened, and she stepped out in a skimpy towel that just barely covered her breasts and stretched to her upper thighs. A smell of sweet perfume. She caught me gawking and then looked down at my pants with the front tented out. She smiled wickedly. I averted my gaze and raced up the stairway; the engorged head was trying to poke up from my belt. Upon reaching my apartment, I quickly found a chair and pulled the front of my pants down.

Now, I was free to proceed at my own pace using my imagination as my guide. I began stroking again. I imagined Isabella caressing it and inserting it in her mouth. My cock expanding to fill her mouth and getting hard and stiff. She looked up at me and I sensed she enjoyed the sight of my caramel member and the feel of the satin skin with its ridges and veins. As she caressed it with her tongue, the pulses and twitches seemed to get amplified. Next, she gave her attention to the balls, sucking them while lubricating them with generous amounts of saliva. Her occasional upward gaze only increased my pleasure.

The images faded and my hand returned to stroking. Soon, I sensed the movement of the semen in my penis. I slightly contracted my pelvic muscle and repeated that action a few times and began to breathe in deeply. The pressure eased again and my pelvic muscles began to involuntarily contract as did the muscles around my anus. There was that warm glow again and it began to spread through my entire body as a tingling sensation.

Oh yes!!.....the sweet taste of bliss.

I relaxed into that feeling and became a little lightheaded.

I felt I needed to ground myself and feel the pleasure of ejaculation. I closed my eyes and began to fantasize making love missionary style. Passionately kissing her while I pounded her. I sensed the pressure seeking release. Then, for one last time, I felt my semen traveling up the shaft. I pulled out and then when I returned to the physical world, I found my hand was vigorously stroking my cock.

Fuck! I'm going to cum!

I felt my body take a life of its own. I felt my abdomen contract and tense. My breathing seemed to stop. Then, almost as an involuntary action, I shot a small load of cum three inches onto my abdomen. It was sweet relief. Soon, I began feeling the pulsing announcing the arrival of the next shot. This time I imagined myself taking her from behind - doggy style, pinching her nipples and slapping her booty; her moans ringing in my ears. I thrusted harder each time, head tipped back, cock driving deep, balls slapping her ass cheeks. A shiver rippled through me and brought me back to the present. It only took a few strokes before my body spasmed and a large rope of cum lanced straight up and back onto my hand and groin. I groaned softly at the thought of her dripping pussy.

As I sat there recovering, my erection began to quickly subside, and my cock lowered itself. I was relaxed but spent. The Nokia rang and the screen lit up. The caller was Sudha.