With the utmost rapidity

I mean, let's face it, we men just want to cum, don't we. We need to cum in fact and on a regular basis, because our bodies create sperm for the sole purpose of getting rid of it. Natures imperative is that we spread it around, not keep it to ourselves. That's why it tends to leak out into our underpants if we try keeping it all to ourselves for too long. Oh, we heterosexuals enjoy the bodies of members of the opposite sex whenever we get the opportunity of course but in this respect and outside of love, the girl is simply a means to an ejaculatory end; a temporary release of the sexual tension that is permanently building up in us. That's why pornography never goes out of fashion. It starts in a boy's mind at the onset of puberty as he conjures up mental images to fit the sensations generated by masturbation. In my case, these were augmented by the porn readily available online until I came home to find a naked lady sweeping my kitchen floor. It was lust at first sight. My body instinctively knew what to do with her and by now, couldn’t wait to get started.

In fact, I was now in such a heightened state of arousal that the horrible possibility of premature ejaculation began to haunt me. What an embarrassing anticlimax it would be if I voided my loins all over lovely Mota's recently swept kitchen floor instead of having that exquisite carnal thrill of feeling my manhood plumbing the depths of her warm, moist, vagina! Also, what a disaster, since I'd miss out on experiencing the orgasmic ecstacy of pumping her front-line sexual organ full of my macho procreative essence, (in line with Nature's imperative!) How sad therefore indeed it would be if, on this most special of occasions, my precious virile seed never got any closer to this woman's as yet empty uterus than the far end of a mop.

The thing is, never really having had a sex life outside of my own kinky imagination and cyberspace, I was totally un-practiced in the art of fucking a woman long enough to satisfy her carnal needs and desires. I'd tried practicing with the aid of my vacuum cleaner but it proved to be no adequate substitute for flesh and blood. The diameter of my cock was less than that of the hose and thus the resulting vibration when we were both turned on was so violent that it had me ejaculating in seconds flat. In no time at all, I'd been milked and left feeling in some not inconsiderable physical discomfort around my nether regions. It also gummed up the vacuum hose over time, reducing its efficiency. I ended up taking my vacuum to a repair shop only to be told, "I'm sorry sir but this vacuum is completely fucked." It took all my self restraint not to blurt out that I'd been the one who'd fucked it.

Meanwhile, back at the plot, it occurred to me that it would be a prudent move on my part to cool things down a little round about now. This would avoid the messy anticlimactic embarrassment I feared; but how exactly was I to cool myself down when everthing going on insisted on bringing me to the boil?

I suppose taking some time out to consider what Mota's husband might do to me if he ever found out about my naughty little arrangement with his loving but gullible wife might have the desired effect. However, such a sobering thought never entered my lust filled head. In fact, I got no closer to rational thinking than to consider that the lush carpet in my lounge would be easier on my knees and elbows when shagging my newly acquired domestic bitch than if I did so on the cold, hard and in places wet kitchen floor.

One thing was clear, we were certainly never going to make it to the bedroom. I had a viewing appointment in less than half an hour so wham, bam, thank you mam was my only viable option. True, my cock was exposed and ready for action but the rest of me felt considerably overdressed. Maybe it's just me but personally, I find that a gentleman in a formal business suit with his cock hanging out looks positively ridiculous. I suppose it was technically possible for me to hump Mota dressed as I was but that wasn’t what I wanted. No, what I craved was all over skin to skin contact with this soft little bundle of erotic voluptuousness.

Tricky little buttons saved the day for me. The ones on my shirt. They distracted me, took my attention away from Mota as my impatient fingers did a decent job of resembling a bunch of bananas in their ineffectual attempts to hurriedly undo the perverse plastic fuckers.

"You want me help with them?"

Mota's offer of assistance did nothing to ease the combination of frustration and panic I was feeling. I was running out of both time and patience but pride demanded that I consummate my bit of business with Mota right then and there. By "there" of course, I meant in the next room. Yes, that was it, the calming strategy I was looking for; changing my location would probably change my mood! It was worth a try. Turning away from Mota, I purposefully strode out of the kitchen and into the lounge. Glory be, it did the trick: after a few deep calming breathes, my bunches of bananas became fingers once again and my business suit, shirt, shoes and undies were rapidly discarded. Being stark naked in my lounge felt strange because I'd never been naked in a lounge, ever. I suddenly felt very self- conscious, which is probably not the best state of mind for a guy to be in if he's to successfully ravish a naked woman he'd never even shaken hands with before. I really needed to feel supremely in charge of things; to be confident and dominant. After all, I'd already sort of bought Mota for sex, all I had to do now was take and enjoy what I'd bought. Thinking this way gave me quite a buzz and I channeled this energy into ordering Mota to come and join me in the lounge. It worked. There was an enhanced authority in my voice that even I found impressive. She came to find me standing naked in the centre of the lounge, my stiff cock jutting out at a perfect right-angle from the rest of my body, inevitably towards her.

She walked slowly towards me in complete sikence, clearly very nervous. Mota stopped a couple of metres short of where I was standing. I noticed she was breathing abnormally heavily. Mota looked me straight in the eye as I took a step towards her as if defying me to take one step more.

I took that step and in that instant, all defiance seemed to leave her. Mota's shoulders hunched and she stooped a little as I reached for her as if she were trying to make herself a smaller target. I swear I heard her whimper as, with one hand behind her neck and another around her waist, I pulled her tight against me. In that fabulous moment, I felt totally exultant. She wasn’t struggling, I had her. If I'd been a comic book villain, at this point, I'd have been saying something like, "got you me proud beauty. Resistance is futile, you're my fuck buddy now." However, not being a comic book villain, I said nothing of the kind; I merely thought it.

Our naked bodies coming together physically shocked me. Mota's flesh felt cool, smooth and silkily alive. She breathed and had a pulse. She also smelt of lavender shampoo. This fragrance seemed to fill my head and had an intoxicating effect on me. I buried my face in her raven black hair to inhale more of it. As a result of pressing Mota against me, my already super-sensitive penis was immediately engulfed by my concubine's smooth, soft, belly. This sensation was more than enough to bring about the beginning of the end.

I felt my climax coming at me like an express train. There was no time left for foreplay. It had to be fuck or failure and I resolved that it had to be fuck. Twisting my body with Mota still in my arms unbalanced her and I was able to bare her to the floor without much difficulty. Her splayed, shapely legs were all astir but I had no time to admire the elegance of her thrashing feminine limbs. I fell on top of her with only seconds left in which to locate and penetrate Mota's divinely moist cunt.

I made it, just. No sooner was Mota's vagina full of my cock than the ecstatic release of orgasm pounced upon me. With no time left for humping, I simply lay still on top of this now quivering lady as jiz pulsed out of me and into her. Mota's vaginal muscles closed in to caress my phallus as if to wring every drop of sperm out of me. I was actually doing it; I was inseminating my lady cleaner, another man's wife. All my erotic daydreams were coming true at that precise moment of exploding pleasurable release. To complete that instance of supreme sexual blissfulness, I **** a hand between us and lost my fingers in the softly yielding flesh of one of Mota's most magnificent boobs. Perfection!

"We said we not make baby!"

Mota said this so matter of factly that the context of her statement wasn't immediately apparent to me. I needed clarification.

"Aren't you taking the contraceptive pill?"

"No, we good Catholic. No pill. We have two daughter but husband want son. We try very hard but no son come. Find out that, after accident, husband sperm no good. Need good sperm from other man to make son, make husband happy. You only man we know so I take clothes off when I hear car come. You like my body and you fuck it. Now we wait and see. Meanwhile, you fuck me many time to make sure we make baby. If things otherwise, we might pay you for this but you already agree you pay us so all is good and husband not have to hit you."

I was dumbfounded; shocked beyond all belief. One second, I was the master of a sex ****, the next, I was the duped servant of a mistress who's using me for stud. The tables had been completely turned. What the fuck could I say about that?

"B....b....but you said, I heard you, y....you say "we NOT make baby" I just about managed to stammer.

"Yes, but you see, were we from, we brought up to believe lie not count if said with crossed finger."