Trigger

To put it simply, Elaine loved to fuck. I hooked up with her two years after she had separated from her husband and a year after her divorce. I was in my mid-twenties and full of energy and spunk. The thirtysomething Elaine was comfortable in her skin and self-assured with her sexuality. It was puppy love for me. For her, I think she just loved to fuck.

What made Elaine different from other women I've known was that she didn't seem to have much patience for receiving oral sex. She considered foreplay to be a necessary evil, something to be foreshortened to the bare minimum. That's not to say she didn't like my mouth on her, getting her all pink and flowing and hot to trot, but she always stopped me before I got her to orgasm. "Just fuck me," she'd insist. I did my best.

Elaine was a glutton. We'd adjust positions every few minutes, trying to scratch every one of her lusty itches. She'd straddle me and squirm around on my stiff cock with big, swooshing circles until she was a fingernail's width away from her orgasm. She'd stare down at me with those alarmingly blue eyes, her face framed by shoulder length curly red hair and her freckled chest flushed and moist. Then she'd hop off and drop her face onto the bed and wiggle her raised ass at me, and I'd grab her hips and find the glory nestled amidst her lush red pubic hair. I'd slam into her slickness with deep, juicy strokes while she clutched fistfuls of bedsheets and wailed muffled cries into the pillow.

And at the end, the thing that always seemed to get Elaine to orgasm was to flop onto her back and let me do her Missionary. She would wrap herself around me, undulating her body and rocking her hips to meet my downward thrusts, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. That is, "sweet nothings" that got progressively more raw and demanding as her excitement climbed. At some moment that was inexplicable to me, Elaine would shift gears, grabbing behind each knee with a hand and pulling her legs bent high and spread wide, and I'd dig my knees into the mattress and just give her high-leverage power-fucking.

Elaine always seemed to resist my efforts to launch her over the cliff first. Whether we were sneaking a morning quickie before work or a more leisurely evening fuck after dinner and a movie, Elaine rarely climaxed before I did. But when I did, when that mass of heat expanded in my groin and my cock super-stiffened and I just became frantic to bury myself deep inside and let it all fly, my orgasm always seemed to be the final trigger for hers.

I was never precisely aware of what was happening with Elaine's orgasm, since at that instant in time my forehead and my temples were in a Big Bang expansion away from my blood-starved brain while my balls were emptying in long, streaming pulses. I would be bottomed out in her slick clutch, and Elaine's normally energetic body would be momentarily still and receptive. She'd exhale a deliciously guttural "Oh!" in response to every one of my creamy spasms. Then suddenly like a madwoman her hips would flurry back up at mine and she would hyperventilate excited gasps that peaked with repeated, sharp cries of orgasmic pleasure. Elaine always came like gangbusters.

Things were in an obvious pattern. I finally got Elaine to talk about it. "I can feel your come," she explained. "Sometimes I even think I can feel hot spurts. But I always feel this warmth spreading out inside me." Her ears were glowing red when she talked about it. "That gets me off when I feel that."

Had it always been like this for her?

"God, no. My husband always used a condom. Not that he wanted to fuck me very often." We were having this conversation a few minutes after a particularly steamy engagement. I was still half-hard inside her, and I was languidly stroking my cock in that spreading warmth. "And after my husband, the other two guys I was with didn't seem to come as much as you do. Or maybe your come is hotter. I don't know."

I didn't know, either. I had nothing to compare myself to. When I made a half-hearted attempt to withdraw from her cunt, Elaine's legs clung tighter around my hips and kept me close. She gave me a crooked smile as her muscles nibbled at my cock. I was 24. My erection began to stir.

"Besides," she told me, "you might still have more where that last batch came from."

I did.