Poor Benedict Cumberbath. Another woman projecting her unfulfilled desires on to him here. "The world's most useless super power", he calls it – the ability to pull almost any woman on earth, but having neither freedom nor inclination to act on it. And here I go running his marriage! I am sorry, Benedict. I know you're unlikely to read it. You know we're only playing. We're not delusional, your Cumper people. Having said that, should you feel like leaving your wife and acting out any of these fantasies, I'm here…

She took in Benedicts tall lean frame, bit by bit, focusing intensely on the muscles that were visible out of his singlet and beneath his shorts. She ran her hand over his tense back, squeezed her palms on the side of his hips to level them out. She grazed his flat abs and he immediately pulled them in. All in the day of a yoga teacher –yoga teacher to the stars, more precisely. Meanwhile, Benedict's wife was curled in child's pose in the corner. She needed the rest, clearly. Benedict needed something totally other.

Funny how, even with all the money and support in the world, you couldn't escape the ravages of having an infant. Amanda remembered it very clearly herself, even though it was 20 years ago now. How this little creature you loved so much sucked you dry, in all ways. Hair falling out, face falling down, body falling forwards, all out of pure exhaustion. And then a man by your side looking lustfully at your full breasts, and all you can think is "go the fuck away", on good nights articulated as "soon, honey, but not tonight, OK?".

Benedict and his wife were clearly suffering from this age-old challenge, but there was more to it. Amanda suspected they had always been mismatched, and this had been the thrill of the chase for Benedict in conquering his colder wife. She'd seen the dynamics before, working with everyone from Madonna to Sting.

"Yoga will get you toned and calm, but better up – it will even out your energies. So let me know what you need, and I'll help you fire up or cool down", she had explained in their first session. Hope had turned on like a light in Benedict's eyes.

"So you mean you can change how we feel, our moods and needs?", he had asked. "Well, yoga can, and I'll show you how", she had responded. He locked his gaze on her gray, clear eyes and it was like a silent prayer; "please help me".

A lot of people looked at Amanda, saw a glowing, breathing, vibrant woman and thought, consciously or subconsciously, "I'll have what she's having". Or sometimes "I'll have her", in hope some of that glow might rub off.

At 38, Amanda was radiantly beautiful, in a way only yoga people tended to be. Soft golden skin, strong dark blonde hair cascading down her back like a teenager, posture like a super athlete (which, at series 4 of Ashtanga yoga, she could be considered to be) and an unlined face completely free of make up. She had long since left the reactions and attractions she provoked behind. She wasn't in yoga for the kicks anyway. She was in it for survival, using yoga as much as anyone to breathe through the day. Life was not easy. For anyone.

For now, there was work to do.

"Benedict, we'll start off with 2 hour sessions 3 times a week – 6 am good for you?" – he nodded, and she turned to his pale wife: "For you, we'll do half hour sessions in the afternoon when you'll feel the most zapped – am I right?" She agreed mutely. "OK, just call me when the baby is sleeping, and I'll be there in ten". Her studio was just down the road, and they were paying her well enough to have her on tap.

The next morning, Benedict stepped up into their attic studio with sleepy eyes. The natural light blinded him after a wakeful night, and he only saw Amanda's silhouette against the panoramic window as she rolled out the yoga mat. A man would have to be made of steel not to appreciate the feminine perfection of her body in tight fitting yoga clothes – lithe, strong, and open with her breasts proudly rising and falling with her breath. And he was not made of steel, especially not right now. After months of abstinence, lust was flowing like hot lava in his veins. Gargoyles on buildings had started to look appealing. He hoped to God that this would help balance them out, as the more he wanted his wife, the less she seemed to want him.

"Let's wake up the body first, and talk later", she greeted him. Soon he was fully alert trying to keep up with the poses she modelled on the mat. He swiftly started following her prompts, enjoying the heat that was building in his body. "Amazing", she thought, "he learns so fast. Maybe he's got some of that Sherlock super brain, after all". As she came up to push his hands together behind his back, she found him incredibly responsive to her touch. Strangely, she found that she wanted to continue to hold him, to smell him, to touch him. She stepped away as if burned. That was just not an option. "Great, Benedict", she said", we'll finish off by you lying down and I'll align your body into balance as you do".

He stretched out his lean, long body on the mat, and she went around to reposition his head, raise one shoulder, get those legs in line, when she noticed the growing erection on him. How could she not? It was massive, and she could see Benedict squeezing his eyes shut, and all but feel his embarrassment. He opened one eye and whispered "sorry!", and she found her words quickly – not the first time this had happened. "Blame the hot yoga", she said, winking.

She left him there and sat down in meditation at her mat, but could not keep her mind off him. He reacted so strongly to her touch, and she felt incredibly drawn to him, almost as if she could feel his switch in mood. Benedict's mind was in turmoil – he had wanted less lust, not more! As her breasts had pushed into her back with that last adjustment, his pulse had catapulted. Everything about her was appealing – her smell, her looks, her no-nonsense ways that seemed to cover a warm and generous heart. How cliché, falling for the yoga teacher. Best ignore it. Surely it would go away.

A few weeks of yoga practice, and Benedict was looking and feeling better than ever. They had both settled on an unspoken acceptance, each in their own mind, that this attraction was there and they could handle it. After all, Amanda had not been with anyone – this included her husband – for the past 10 years. All that energy ploughed into yoga, and didn't she have an amazing practice. She thought it was all down to her mind control and discipline. Ah, the arrogance of it…

As it turned out, she could resist lust, but not him, not this. Whatever it was.

Benedict on his end had just come from a rare moment of connection with his wife. She had looked him in the eyes and frankly declared that she didn't think she'd catch up with him, anymore, ever, in either the lust nor love department. Perhaps it wouldn't be right for them to hold on to each other? How about they set each other free, just quietly, to see how they were feeling, and part as friends and stay co-parents. He was shocked, but strangely not sad. Something about these words rang very true to him. And he had a yoga class to go to…

He walked in early to see Amanda sitting on the mat, beautiful as ever looking like a Madonna of peacefulness, only to notice that tears were falling down her cheeks. Quietly, he rolled out his mat on the floor, and saw her took a deep breath and dry her tears with the palm of her hands. Smoothly she rose up from her mat to welcome him. "Sorry", she begun, as he put his hand on her arm to say "Are you alright?". Amanda smiled, a sad smile. "Alright as ever", she said. "Just learning to live with a bit of sadness, that's all". His hand burned on her arm, and he slowly and reluctantly pulled it back. "Honestly", he said", it's fine if you don't want to work today". "Oh, I absolutely need to work!", she said, with a fervor that surprised them both. "That is, if you don't mind a sobbing yoga teacher…" Smiling through the tears, she made his breath stick in his chest. He wanted to hold her, find out what was wrong. Amazing how they had such a connection just from these few weeks of yoga.

"Right", she said, regaining her composure. "Today I thought we would do a guided relaxation. You've done a lot of work on your body already – time for the mind". He gave her a long look with eyes that said "you're not fooling me" and said: "Or… how about we skip class? I think we could both do with some relaxation. Come with me". This was the first time he took charge. For a moment, she hesitated. Would she hold it together outside the studio, no longer in the teacher role? Then she thought "why the hell not". A decade with a sick husband had taken its' toll, and at no time had she put herself first. Relaxing with this beautiful man, doing anything with him – she felt herself come alive at the thought. "Where to", she simply said, and he opened the door at the end of the yoga studio and gestured for her to go out first. "Out here", he simply said, and suddenly they were on the roof in a glassed in relaxation space.

It was simply gorgeous, overlooking the city. She felt that London was swirling around them, and that the centre of the universe was here, right behind her, in his beautiful warm body that she had gotten to know so well. "Breathtaking, isn't it", his deep voice reverberated through her body. Her breath did indeed hitch, but not due to the view. "Oh my God", she thought, "how am I going to keep this under control? I can resist anyone – but not him. And here we are…"

Looking around, she saw several reclining chairs and beanbags, with plants creating little secluded pods. Amanda took her unsteady legs and sat down on one of them. "Let's start here then", she said, inviting him to sit in front of him. "It's relaxation time….". She felt more comfortable taking charge. Not like she was going to loose it, and either throw herself at him or break down in sobs.

Benedict looked at her, his green eyed gaze steady on her, making the pulse race in her chest and the blood swoosh in her ears. She swallowed and smiled and invited him to sit. His turn to go weak at the knees. So he was to sit at the feet of this goddess and let himself be "relaxed"? He slumped down, and she immediately went to work. Massaging his back, neck, hands into his gorgeous curly hair, digging into his scalp. He groaned at the feeling, it was like he was coming undone at the ends, with a fire burning in his middle. Soon there was no hope of him controlling himself. And he wanted to take care of her.

He grasped both her hands at the wrists and looked around at her. Luscious hair falling down over her bare shoulders, flushed cheeks, chest rising rapidly. He turned to look her in the eyes and simply said, in his deep voice, "I think it is your turn to relax". With that, he pulled her and over, between his legs, and now her back was against his front. No attempts to conceal his growing erection. She trembled in his arms and leaned back, as his long strong hands worked over her shoulders, into her hair, but this was not such an innocent massage. "Are we talking therapy or seduction", she leaned back to whispered in his ear, and he could see the glimpse of a radiant knowing smile that made his pulse go quicker. "Can it be both", he asked, equally breathless. "I think it already is… but what about your wife?", she had to ask. "My wife has set both me and herself free, and this is just where I want to be, with you" – and he bent down to kiss her neck, his hands now caressing up and down her sides, brushing her breasts, sliding down towards her groin, skimming her taut stomach. She moaned, she bucked, she threw her head back and gasped. It had been so long, but this was nothing like she had ever experienced before. She had been vibrating with excitement at just seeing him, and her she was, in his arms, practically fainting with pleasure. It took all her training to calm herself down and breathe and feel and enjoy.

"There", he whispered into her hair, "I think you are relaxing. And I think you are ready for a different kind of release?", the question hanging in the air. "What do you have in mind", she managed to ask, wondering how far they should go, how fast. "Oh, just a bit of this", he responded, and put his warm hand over her now hot, pulsating, wet sex. "Oh my God", she gasped. "Please…" It was an invitation, and it was a plea. He was quick to respond, but careful in moving her forward. This kind of passion was not what he was used to either. And he was still feeling like she truly was a goddess; in all her splendour, she might evaporate at the point of orgasm. He wanted to have her there for as long as possible. With long, slow strokes, he helped her build up slowly. His other hand found its way under the leotard, circling her full round breasts, caressing and squeezing, holding her as she helplessly tumbled into the waves of pleasure.

She took his hand and invited him into her knickers, exquisite sheer white ones that were now positively drenched. Now it was him who found it hard to hold on, not to push his throbbing member into her, but to stay focused on the price at hand. Which was coming towards them, very fast. He circled her clit, massaged it carefully with one finger until she moaned, and then reached around to push two fingers into her warm wet tightness while stimulating her with the pressure of his palm. She all but went wild. A few strokes of them moving together, and she came completely undone. He felt her strong muscles spasm around him, her arms reaching up over her head, around his neck, and her moaning, "Ah, Ben… Ben… Ben…."

As her breathing slowed from a gasp to a happy, trembling inhalation, she twisted around in his arms, and started kissing him, deeply, slowly, from the haze of orgasm. "Thank you", she managed to blurt out. "My pleasure", he said, adjusting to the temptations of her lips right there to claim, her body pressed to his in new ways. "Not yet", Amanda said, and begun trailing kisses down his body. She caressed his t-shirt over his shoulders and out of the way, spread her strong soft hands over his torso, and flicked her tongue over his sensitive nipples. It was a pure joy to finally lay her hands all over him, like she had wanted to from the first day. His scent was heady, his skin smooth, she wanted to eat him, she wanted to drink him… As her kisses and hair trailed down the length of him, down to his groin, he had to use all his self-control to stop her with a soft grip on her shoulders, and pull her back up to him.

"Are you sure you want this", he said, panting. "Oh, I do", she said, eyes burning with passion and sincerity and something else he couldn't pin down – gratitude? "What's your situation", he asked. "In short", she said, grabbing the back of his hair and holding him at arms' length, just for a moment, "I haven't been with my husband for a decade, and no one else for a decade before that. So you're pretty safe with me". The kisses begun again, but he brought her up to look into her blazing eyes again. "What?", he asked incredulously, "no sex for 10 years – none?". "None - and you have just given me the most ecstatic moment of my life", she admitted.

At this, he just growled at the outrageousness of this, and rolled them so that he was on top over her, supporting himself on his elbows, pushing his impressive erection into her soft welcoming vulva, only a thin barrier of clothing stopping them now. "I will give you ecstasy", he mumbled, and started trailing his mouth down her beautiful body, relieving her of her clothes as he went. "What about you?", she protested, and he mumbled back between kisses "Trust me – I'll be right where I want to be in a minute". Her stomach did a roller coaster at this and suddenly there he was, with his mouth, tearing her best undergarments off her, and kissing her already ready sex, twirling his tongue, sending her back into that place where the body completely took over. A place she had not been in until today, she realised, with a twinge of sadness, until he just made light work of her second orgasm, sending her into joy.

"Ahhh… Ahh", was all she could manage, grabbing his hair with her hands, pulling him back up, welcoming him in – and my, was he huge, lucky she was ready and hot for him. He pushed slowly into her wetness with sensual abandon his face, then looked down on her, into her eyes – "relaxed now", he said, not a question, just a statement. Both of them were speechless from that moment, lost but together in this new place, moving slowly. Benedict loved seeing her loose control, watching her face as she bit by bit moved towards her third orgasm with him, knowing that he was making this goddess bloom. Making love to her was unlike anything he had ever experienced, moving together in some ancient rhythm, becoming one – all those clichés suddenly ringing true. It felt like with every push into her, he was becoming more of her, his whole body and soul tingling. So warm, so joyous, no time to think, only feel. And feel he did, and as she started closing in on him, he lifted them both up so that she moved up and down on him with her breasts touching his chest, driving him mad with excitement, stimulating her sensitive spot, and sending them both beyond the point of no return. They held each other as their back arched in unison, then came together in a long, slow, sensuous kiss as the waves of their orgasm ebbed out.

And kissed, and kissed again, until they finally lay down, intertwined, unwilling to break their connection. As their breathing finally slowed, they looked at each other and laughed. "Oh… my … God", Amanda said. "Benedict…" And she couldn't put any words to what she was feeling. "Finally speechless, huh", he said, smiling. "I'll remember it takes three orgasms for you to completely relax. For next time." Her heart jumped for joy at the thought. "Well, I think it's your turn next to relax", she said teasingly. He could feel the twinges of excitement already at the thought. But that's for another chapter, another time soon.