As they say, it was a whirlwind affair.
Marriage happened after just three months. Even our most cynical friends, tossing confetti over us as we left the register office, had to admit we were made for each other.
The only person with any doubts was me.
Not because I doubted our relationship. I knew Elena loved me. And I her.
I just doubted myself.
Elena was not just out of my league. She wasn't even playing the same game.
Don't get me wrong. I've fucked beautiful women. But often this was at the end of the night as the club was clearing out. In simple terms, I'm not the kind of guy to be a first choice for women like Elena. My experiences had proved I was more of an acceptable second or third choice, depending on whatever else was available.
I didn't complain.
Those women whom I'd loved in the past I had thought were beautiful, of course. But I knew the difference between what I appreciated, and what the rest of the world considered beautiful and sexy.
Elena was both. She turned the heads of guys when she walked into a room. She made other women frown.
I thought she was achingly beautiful, with a body designed by God to show others how good they can be.
Ever had that jealous look from other guys when you're with your woman? Yeah, I saw that a lot.
Elena knew what she had, of course. But this is the best thing: She ignored it. She was vivacious, and fun to be around. Women might frown initially, but it was impossible not to like her after a few minutes of talking to her.
And I loved her from the moment I saw her profile on a dating app. She had just moved into the area, she had written. She had no friends. No boyfriend, even. Happy to meet people just to show her around... Or maybe more?
I saw that that she'd selected hook-ups as a relationship option. That'd be nice, I guessed. But I didn't pay much attention to it.
It would become important later.
I swiped right. Astonishingly, she did too. We chatted. Flirted a little. I said I'd show her around her new town.
And I did. We became tourists in our city.
At the end of the day we had a brief meal. And then, with a peck on my cheek by way of thanks, she caught the train back home.
That, I thought, was it. A great day with a great woman.
Great conversation. I should be happy for the opportunity. I'd give it the requisite day or two and then message her. But I wasn't optimistic.
I'd barely been able to take my eyes of her amazing body. I began to enjoy walking behind her and watching her arse. I enjoyed sitting opposite her as we had coffee and catching occasional glances at her incredible cleavage.
It was almost funny how outrageously sexual she was. She just had it, whatever it was.
I had my cock in my hand and was scrolling through photographs on her dating app profile when a message appeared from her later that evening following our date:
"Want to come over for some wine?"
Well, yes. I certainly would.
We didn't get to drink any wine. This became clear as soon as she opened the door with a smile that I'll never forget.
She took my hand and led me upstairs.
We undressed.
And then we fucked. Hurriedly and hotly. I hadn't had pussy for a few months and, evidently, she hadn't had cock for some time, either.
It was basic, missionary sex. There had been the pretence of foreplay but, as my hand had explored her body, she had whispered in my ear: "Fuck me now."
She came within less than a minute, and then again 30 seconds later. I filled the condom at the same time. We lay in the darkness until she said, "You know, this might become serious."
We saw each other daily. I couldn't wait until my working day was over and we met up.
We fucked relentlessly. If she stayed overnight I became used to being woken up by her tongue swirling around my cock. Sometimes we fucked in that lazy morning way, too. Sometimes she simply milked me with her mouth, greedily gulping down my sperm.
And that's the thing. She was a natural when it came to sex. She just had skills. She knew exactly how to give somebody pleasure. To give me pleasure. And, to be fair. I knew how to return the favour. I woke her up some mornings with my lips against her soft pussy. I loved the taste of her. With my fingers inside her, fucking her wetness, I loved being in control of her orgasms.
I'm getting ahead of myself.
We fucked like all the couples do when they first meet. Nothing spectacular. Nothing acrobatic. Just enjoying each other's bodies. Fucking from behind, cowgirl, spooning...
She was always keen to unexpectedly treat me by getting on her knees in front of me in any room in the house. I loved when, as we watched a movie in the evening, she slouched on the settee and gave me access to explore her pussy with my tongue (I didn't want to watch the crummy movie, anyway!).
And explore I did, taking my time, and making her cum into the double digits.
We got married, as I've mentioned. She moved in.
I thought I had won at the game of life.
Nobody can complain about the intensity of an orgasm, but when you love somebody, the pleasure is multiplied a million times. Staring into the eyes of your soulmate as your head nearly explodes with pleasure, and you feel them pulsing against your cock as they feel the same thing, is surely one of life's ultimate offerings.
I was hard whenever I saw her naked, unless my cock was still wet from her pussy -- and at that point I was at least thinking about going again, even if my cock wasn't ready to respond.
She matched me, move for move. She wanted all I could give her. More, maybe.
For example, once we were getting ready to go out. She was pulling up her dress, with that always-funny difficulty of pulling the tight fabric over the rump of her peachy arse. Who doesn't love that?
I sat back in bed, leisurely watching her, my hand idly stroking the achingly hard eight inches of my manhood.
With a smile she ordered me to lie back, and then squatted on my cock and rode me until we both came.
Then, and after wiping up my cum as it dribbled down her leg, she went back to getting dressed.
But there was a problem.
Let me talk briefly about Chrissie.
She was the one before Elena.
Something similar to the above had happened. We'd been getting ready to go out. Chrissie had been putting on her underwear. I had been watching her from the bed, slowly stroking my cock.
Chrissie had seen me. She too had smiled when, sitting in front of her dressing table, she had put the finishing touches to her lip gloss.
But here's where things were different.
I walked over to her, put my hand on the back of her head, and fucked her mouth. I told her to look up at me as I did so. Saliva dribbled from her mouth and, once or twice, she gagged as I pushed deep down her throat. It wasn't long until I came. I held her head as I pumped cum down her throat. I could feel her desperately swallowing.
I pulled my cock out and she gasped for air. Saliva and sperm were dribbling out of her mouth and onto her generous tits.
