Efficient

Almost a week had passed since we'd had sex. One night we'd had company who had stayed too late. The next night she was tired. Then it was a sick kid, or watching the election, or me being tired, or her again. It was always something.

Before dinner she rubbed her body against me in the kitchen. "I'm getting really horny," she whispered into my ear, "Are you?" My erection spoke my nonverbal response.

Dinner. Helping with homework. A little television. Eventually the evening wound down, the kid was in his bed and we were in ours. She was sleepy again. There was no time to waste. In the darkness my mouth found hers. A minute later my mouth found her right breast.

"Lie on top of me," she demanded, no longer sounding sleepy.

"Take off your nightgown," I countered.

She did. I did.

I reconnected with her right breast. I've always loved her breasts. Not small, not large, though on her petite frame they looked bigger than they really were. She had big, dark brown nipples that hardened quickly. They were a little droopy, even from the days Before Kids, but they were a woman's breasts.

I brushed my chest hair across them, and she sighed. My cock was half-hard, just firm enough to tease her cleft with a promise. I didn't have to feel her clit in order to know it was rock-hard, too. I could feel her fingers fiddling between us, then my cockhead felt less of her pubic thatch and more of her pink. She'd spread her pussylips for me. I knew she was in a hurry. She was always in a hurry.

I rose up on straightened arms, causing her to murmur an objection. "Wait," I told her. "You're not wet." I licked a thumb, moving saliva to where it was needed. She was in too much of a hurry to allow me to savor her with my mouth. Three thumbfulls was enough. One more thumbfull on my cockhead, and then I nudged inside her.

"Oh," she breathed, "Oh. Oh." I topped her once again and pressed forward with my hips. "Oh. Oh." I was in. Quarterway. Halfway. Then all the way. Her knees came up and her ankles pulled hard on my hamstrings. I rooted in small circles, reluctant to retreat from her slick warmth. "Oh. Oh."

Her little inner muscles nibbled on me, and my cock toyed with her cervix. We fit together perfectly, cock in cunt, her preference for me to fuck her Missionary style, her lust for my cock to probe deliberate and deep and to stir her body to orgasm.

Now I was ready to pump. First a slow half-stroke, then a sharp, driving inward thrust that grazed her cervix and buried up against the stops of her sheath. She exhaled a gasping moan, "Oh, fuck," and I began the full-length strokes. "Oh, oh, oh" she chanted to me in a soft voice as I fucked her with deep, shuddering plunges that got her breasts dancing.

I knew she wouldn't last long. Deep inside, right up there at the high end, her cervix began to quiver every time my cock bumped to a halt. Her lubrication flowed, coating my cock and ever easing my passage. My hands cradled her face, my thighs owned hers, my cock owned her cunt. All she could do was lie there and be fucked. It was all she wanted to do.

"Almost there," she rasped, and I slowed my hips and teased her. "No no no harder!" she breathed with urgency, trying to bend me to her will. I drove into her again, and she rewarded me with a sharp moan to my face and sharp fingers in my shoulderblades. Three, four, five powerful strokes into her quivering grasp, then again I teased us both with slow, shallow stroking caresses.

"Hard no hard HARD!" she insisted, and her hips tried to argue with my weight and grab more of my cock. There was no need for that. I was ready.

"Okay," I told her, and I took us both to the finish. This was our ritual. This was our efficient five-minute gallop from the starting line to photofinish. I fucked her with straight-ahead, unambiguous pounding thumps that rattled the headboard. Her knees rose higher until they cradled my waist, and every one of my thrusts bottomed out with that liquid sound of fullbore fucking. "Oh oh yes oh oh yes..." She just wanted to be fucked.

We climaxed together, one joined explosion of pleasured flesh. I growled and wrapped my arms tight and buried my superstiffened erection and exploded my long pulses of white liquid heat, and her little piece of heaven did its gentle rhythmic clenching around my shaft where our pubic hairs entwined, and she moaned and gasped and tried to wiggle her hips to scratch all her itches. I tried my best to keep moving, to keep rooting and scrubbing and giving her my cock, more cock, hard cock.

Eventually I slipped off her body, both of us panting and out of breath, extracting my flaccid flesh from her vagina now filled with our soup. "I felt you," she told me. I kissed her. She is a Great Fuck. Not a Really Great Fuck, though. She's in too much of a rush.