100 Positions of the Kama Sutra
By Dana Keylits

Chapter Two
The Rocking Horse

"You're serious with this. You really want to do this every day for one-hundred days?" She asked, accepting the mug of coffee he'd prepared just for her. She plopped down on a stool at his kitchen counter.

"Yeah! Why not?"

She fingered through the pages, "Castle, some of these are really complicated!" she complained. "What if I start walkin' funny?"

He snorted, "Oh, c'mon Kate. They're not that bad, you do yoga don't you?"

"Yeah, but no one's trying to get inside my pants when I'm practicing yoga."

"If you think it's your pants I'm interested in, we have bigger problems than you just walking funny." He waggled his eyebrows.

She punched him in the bicep.

He snatched the book from her hands and closed it, setting it on top of the counter with a loud thump. "Besides, you shouldn't be looking ahead. Let's keep it a day-to-day surprise."

She rolled her eyes, and then reached over the counter to playfully pinch his stomach. "You might wanna hit the gym, then, Romeo, because some of those are going to require a lot of strength and balance," she laughed, leaning back to take a sip from the steaming mug. A kittenish grin played across her features and she chuckled at the wounded expression on his face.

"Good morning, darlings!" Martha shouted from the top of the stairs. "Is everyone appropriately dressed?"

They immediately jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion of Castle's inquisitive mother, and simultaneously grabbed at the Kama Sutra book in a desperate bid to conceal it from her probing eyes. Instead, they sent it flying off the counter where it skittered across the floor, landing at the foot of the stairs just as Martha stepped off the last step.

Her eyes dropped down, then glided amusingly back up at the pair, both of whom were frozen in their spots, their faces contorted into expressions of embarrassed horror.

One hand in the air as though pointing out the obvious, she said, "Richard, darling, I don't think you have the stamina to keep up with most of what's in that book." She picked it up and walked it over to a crimson-cheeked Kate. Leaning in, she whispered, "I hate to say it, dear, but in case you haven't noticed, he's not the most flexible man." She shot an amused look at her son as she headed to the coffee maker, "You really need to be bendy to properly engage in the Kama Sutra; perhaps some yoga classes will help you, darling?" She patted him on the shoulder.

Kate bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, her face a deep shade of red, as Castle hung his head in utter resignation, "Thank you, Mother. For once again scarring me with your inappropriate advice."

She was surprised by how quickly her body responded to the change between them.

As soon as her shift was over, they'd raced back to her place, the ride up the elevator taking an interminably long amount of time. They would have been on each other like white on rice then were it not for Kate's elderly neighbor riding up with them.

Castle helped bring the woman's groceries into her apartment, taking time to help her unpack them into the small refrigerator, and then stocking her shelves with the canned goods. When he was done, the reusable bags hung neatly in the front closet and the woman's door securely closed, he chased Kate down the short hallway to her front door, where, once they were inside, they flew at each other, arms and legs coiled around one another, his lips pressed along the column of her neck, her fingers raking random patterns through his hair.

The clothing between them a barrier they could no longer abide, they quickly abandoned them, articles of clothing being strewn around her front foyer in a haphazard path. If they had been a cartoon they'd have been nothing but a whirling, blurry tornado, sketched in crazy lines and colors, pants, and shirts, and underwear flying through the air in every direction.

Stumbling, naked, their mouths against each other in a manic unabashed kiss, they made their way to the bedroom, tripping over furniture and leaving a trail of knocked over lamps, picture frames, books and knick-knacks in their wake.

Kate pushed him onto the bed, her eyes hooded with lust, her lips bowed in fevered anticipation. It washed over her, so quickly, her desire for this man, the raw carnal need she had for him.

"Sit up," she ordered, pulling the Kama Sutra book from her leather satchel and opening it to page two. She climbed onto the bed, "you have to sit like this," she pointed to the illustration on the page.

He crossed his legs, then placed both palms on the mattress behind him, bracing himself against the bed.

She climbed into his lap, onto her knees as she straddled him, her perfectly peach-shaped bottom resting in the cradle of his folded legs. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, a lump in her throat, she was excited, beyond excited and she wondered silently to herself how this happens every time, every time she is with him it's like it's her first.

"Castle?" Her chameleon eyes captured his, the play and swing of her body creating a sense of urgency between them, "Pay attention." His lips parted, his breath bated. She grinned the grin of the devil. "Cuz I'm gonna ride you like a Harley on a bad piece of road."

He gasped, wide-eyed, his lips shaping into an utterly bewitched smile and she quickly rose to her knees, thrusting her breasts inches from his face, her fingers tousling his hair as she pulled his head towards her.

He greedily took one breast into his mouth and sucked, hard, immediately rewarded by the feel of her nipple tightening, rising, pleading for more. He grazed his teeth over it, swirling his tongue, before carefully biting down, pulling, and then quickly releasing it. She moaned, her hands framing his face as he moved to the other breast, giving her more of the same.

She slowly lowered herself, easing onto him, taking her time, teasing, sliding down him in a measured, tortuous approach, until the full length of him filled her. She tossed her head back, her chestnut hair cascading down her back, tickling her spine. She made a noise that reminded him of a cat purring contentedly.

His life's breath escaped in one long, deliberate sigh that emanated from deep within his chest and tumbled past his lips, warming her already tepid skin. He waited for her soft gyrations to begin, but, she was still, calm, unmoving, as though she were in a trance, meditating, waiting, wanting, praying, elastic muscles gripping him, then loosening, then gripping him again. He was about to wiggle his hips, ask her if she was okay until finally, slowly, deliberately, she inched her pelvis up, her hands against his chest, and then eased back down.

She was filled with him, her body, her mind, soul, heart, life. She could not get him deeply enough inside of her, could not get close enough, have enough, be enough. She was spellbound, transformed by the erotic scent of him, his masculine lines and sharp angles, his strength and tenderness that were equal parts reassuring and terrifying.

She felt the first tickle of tears as they bubbled to the surface of her eyes and she rocked against him. Slowly, carefully, at first, but as the tension climbed within her, she moved more quickly, her solid muscles supporting a swift, even cadence against him.

And he was moaning, panting, his breath fluttering against her neck and chest, warming her, reassuring her, coaxing her forward, upward, higher and higher until she was close.

And then she stopped.

His eyelids flew open. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable, her eyes misty and unfocused, stormy, intense. Her lips were slightly parted, her hands still resting firmly against his chest, she was panting, praying, waiting. She leaned in and kissed him, breathing into him, sobbing, her tongue parting his lips in desperate exploration. He brought one hand up, cradled the back of her head, returning the kiss with a fevered appetite.

She resumed rocking, her teeth having captured his bottom lip, her pelvis rocking, rocking, back and forth, in and out. Pleasure building within her, a knowing tickle in her belly cascading throughout her body, the tension building, climbing higher and higher, a thin sheen of sweat covered her stimulated flesh. She let go of his lip, brought her hands around his neck for support, and then, without warning, pounded into him.

He cried out, surprised, her name echoing from the walls of the room, the intensity of her thrusts startling him, making him feel off balance and crazy, and he knew he was too near his own sweet release. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating, needing her to come, forcing his thoughts to focus only on her, ignoring the almost painful need of his own body.

She suddenly, violently, pushed back, her fingers digging carelessly into his skin and her whole body shuddered as she orgasmed. The room trembled too, as if they were in the middle of an off-the-Richter-scale earthquake. She beckoned his name, shouted it, over and over and over.

"Castle!" panting, "Castle!" crying, "Castle!" gasping

She collapsed onto him, her arms around his neck, and she continued to rock, her cheek resting on top of his head as she clung to him. He pressed his lips against her throat, biting her flesh, nipping, nibbling, tasting the salty goodness of her moistened skin.

She rocked gently, purposefully, tilting her pelvis against him so she could prolong her orgasm, even as she knew she must increase her rhythm so he could come.

And, she needed him to come, needed to feel his body's release, needed to know it was her that did that to him.

As if her thoughts had been mumbled like a Gregorian chant in the quiet room, she felt his body tense, his muscles grow rigid, his pelvis rise to meet her, and then, in perfect release, a strangled sob plunged past his lips and he exploded inside of her.

She coaxed him, all of him, until his release was complete, and he moaned, cried, wailed her name in urgent appeal. She held him tightly, her arms practically squeezing the breath out of him.

And when they were still, their breathing even and normal, she could feel him go soft inside of her and she slid off of him and collapsed limply onto the bed. He stretched out beside her, sliding his leg so it rested between hers and she cuddled towards him, her head on his shoulder.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Yeah," she replied.

"That was..." he began.

"Amazing," she finished.

He smiled, then laughed, a bubbly, bright, almost boyish laugh, and she joined him, their combined laugher a chorus that spiraled between them.

And when they finally caught their breath, she glanced at him, her lips meeting his in a soft, quick kiss. "Castle?"


"I am definitely gonna be walking funny tomorrow."

A/N: If you would like to see what this position looks like (it's a cartoon, so not graphic), you can google "100 sex positions of the Kama Sutra" or follow me on Twitter ( krdaniels) and I will happily give you the link to the website.