The sun was setting on the plaza when Rick's pick up truck pulled in. He got out amid the departing employees and noticed the only storefront with a light still on was Amelia's. Two girls checked him out as he walked to the door: he was used to that; a handsome man with a trimmed beard and the height and musculature of commanding presence. His attention at the time was fixed squarely on Amelia, or on his hopes for her. Having been asked to meet her alone at her yoga classroom, he was feeling more than a little optimistic about what the night might bring. Instantly he began moving more quickly.
Stepping inside and finding the place empty, he felt a note brush his shoulder. Taped to the door was a piece of scrap paper asking him to come in and lock up. He obliged and stood in the middle of the wide floor, visible to anyone who might pass the window and wondering how long he would be waiting there. It was only a few moments before she appeared from the back room, and Rick enjoyed the sight of her.
Dressed unpretentiously in a white t-shirt and jean shorts, she nonetheless projected forced casualness with her Beatle boots, though her tool belt suggested she might have worn them for work. Her physique was what one would call average, but the curves of her rear and belly were exceptionally pronounced, her torso shaped like a kidney bean overall, and her thighs were long without hinting at the great physical strength she'd cultivated throughout her body. Her black hair was a bird's nest, and lines on her jaw added years to her age, but the suggestion of a ready older woman complemented her powerful vitality to create radiant sex appeal that reminded Rick why he first thought of crossing the line between student and instructor.
"Thanks for coming," she said, hiking up the rig around her waist, as if to buy time for a handshake before it slid off of her. He pleasantly shook with her in disappointment at the formality of the gesture, but cars were still pulling out of the lot outside, and hugging her might have caused a cut on his abdomen from the back of the hammer head that sat atop the long handle dangling between her legs.
"Can we talk in the back room? I'm in the middle of something." She was already waving him to it as he started following her. He'd never been in that part of the studio, and he felt his confidence return at the suggested intimacy.
"I wanted to talk about some of your postures." She reached onto a long row of high metal shelves to take down a cardboard box. The space was unfinished, like an access tunnel in a mall. "Is there anything that could be affecting your concentration?" Readjusting the position of the pocketed belt again, her hands rotated it on her hips slowly to the right, and to the left. He watched the screwing and unscrewing of her shirt.
"Maybe a couple things."
Her hands clasped the leather at the sides of the buckle and she flipped the tapered end out, to let it point limply at him. She gripped it in her right fist and yanked slowly but very firmly to displace its hole from the shiny prong; and keeping a tight hold with her left hand she replaced her right and let the weight of the tools pull the end gradually through the circle formed by her thumb and forefinger, until she seized it so it couldn't drop away. Her bottom lip glistened, he noted unconsciously.
"I think I'm on top of it." Amelia drew her hands behind her back as though she was being cuffed, and let the left one emerge holding her belt like a snake she had caught. It dropped into the box.
"If you need help freeing your energy, I can give you focus," she said in an even rhythm, and her right thumb and forefinger closed again to clamp the tab of the zipper on her shorts. She let it growl softly as it parted.
He knew instantly that her sex was bare beneath the denim, and its scent found him in a moment. More gradually came the realization that throbbing between the red lips of her vulva was the brown latex head of a dildo, that had until then been buried in her canal. The footlong artificial member was projected out of her fly by some mechanism Rick didn't pretend to understand, holding its place proudly in front of her like an exclamation that electrically charged the air.
"Suck me," she urged, with the same seductive cadence as before, and an image of his top front teeth clicking against the steel ring of her harness formed so vividly in his mind that he couldn't doubt it was inserted there by psychic means. His will no longer his own, he swooped to clutch the waist of her shorts as he sank, dragging them down her taut legs as he fell pathetically at her feet to fellate her.
Reaching back into the box, she retrieved a white sports bra that she let dangle from her fingers while ruffling his hair, and gave assisting pushes and pulls to his wet mouth as it inched along the rubber symbol of her desire. Closing and unclosing her hands rapidly she ordered him to raise his arms, and she drew his shirt from his torso and flung it aside, before quickly jerking down into its place the women's undergarment. In accord with her unspoken wishes, he kept sucking her rod during her process of redressing him.
Moments later she was on her knees behind him, pounding spiritedly away with both hands locked on the lower bands of the garment that bound his chest. Her holds kept his shoulders elevated: he could only with difficulty rest his palms upon the mats on the floor. Her boots were gone, and he was naked but for the bra that she reeled and yanked before her like horse's reins. Eventually, she gently clasped his hips as she continued to hammer him, and kneaded the upper sections of his cheeks with the butts of her hands, while letting her fingers lightly caress his lower back. As much as possible, she relied only on the bending and unbending of certain joints; in this case those at her waist and her knees; and she never tired or slowed from employing contractions of other groups of muscles, such as her rump or abs. The whole weight of her feminine body utilized in every strike, she was an even more capable lover than the man she was impaling, who surpassed her in size and strength, but who was totally without her skill.
Next she moved her right hand below his crotch, and raised his right thigh, so that after adopting a wide stance with her knees once again well bent, his pelvis was at the same height as hers, supported entirely by his left foot. Amelia continued to straighten and close her joints, delivering an astounding sexual performance with mere tightenings of her ankles, knees, and hips. Her feet shot forward a couple inches, the right after the left, and her pistoning increased in frequency.
Finally she released his leg, and with him on all fours she brought her left calf beside his left thigh, and extended her right leg behind her onto her toes. The positions of her hands mirrored those of her feet; her left on the center of his back, and her right clutching his right ass cheek. Moving primarily up and down, she drove the intimidating rod in repeatedly to the hilt; five, six, seven times, and then bang; held it all in, letting the nerves of the man's filled ass report to his brain of the total devastation she had wrought.
Her stamina well preserved by her method, she knelt once again behind him and resumed in doggy, to fold and unfold her erect form thoroughly, moving and removing the entirety of her chocolate length. Her fingertips hooked his hips and she kept her trunk in line with her thighs, bending only her knees then, to slide it in and out, and she was so pleased that she placed her hands on her hips authoritatively while leisurely watching the cycle occur before her.
Gracefully, she draped her mannish hands onto his posterior, wrists together and digits splayed toward his thighs, and leaned forward to divide her weight between her stiffened, corded forearms and her legs, which she kept straight and poised on their toes. Again bending at the waist, she accomplished her most acrobatic feat yet, pumping the long dick for all it was worth in and out of the stunned man beneath her. The mechanical motion drove home the point that she was the more able lover; were their positions reversed, his mass would not have been supported; the girlish beauty of her spritely dips entitling her to his patient endurance though he wouldn't have been able to ask the same of her. She slid into him again and again with the purposefulness of a desert oil rig, silently proclaiming her superiority. He jolted upward once in an attempt to accomodate the burrowing probe, but the evenness of her swaying was unaffected. It went on that way for several minutes.
When her dominance was definitely established, she got back on her knees, to simultaneously thrust into him and draw his obliging body onto her girth with the fingers of her left hand on his back. She grabbed the flesh of his right hip as a handle, and kept maneuvering him that way.
At last she squatted over his portal and rested her hands flatly on his mid-back. Her perfect technique was employed one last time, bends in her knees continually slamming the cock in at a steep angle, while slabs of muscle became visible in her thighs. Faster and harder than before, but with the impassiveness of an exercise routine, she owned his body, as the clear lube she had packed into him began dribbling out onto his scrotum. More and more her thighs brushed his hips, and when the time was right she telepathically initiated his climax. His mind completely conforming to her will, he then regained his composure, got dressed, and left the studio with no memory at all of having been there that evening. He locked the door behind him when he went.
