Adieu the Golden State

I have always loved the moment of penetration. Whether it is at the beginning of a session of rampant shagging or after half an hour of trying every position in the book (or at least some of them) I just think the moment at which the head of an erect cock pushes its way into a willing and receptive pussy is one of the most erotic things I know how to do. Going back to my 32 year old divorcee Kim when I was 17, one of the first things I had learned from her was how to tease a pussy with the head of my cock rather than ramming it in and going like the clappers, like most teenagers. Patti had always appreciated a spot of finesse and this last run ashore with her was no exception. Guiding my cock with one hand, I must have spent a good five minutes just brushing it against her lips, tensing to push it all the way in then withdrawing it and grinning down at her. I rubbed it up and down her cleft, moved it from side to side and brushing it against her thighs, which were starting to tremble ever so slightly. Finally even my iron self-control (yeah, right! Editor) was exhausted and with a deep sigh of satisfaction I pushed my favourite organ into a warm, syrupy tunnel and started to set up my own rhythm. I am much more musical than Patti but, ironically, despite the fact I kept on trying to vary the pace, I ended up in a very regular in and out beat. That didn't seem to bother Patti at all, fortunately, especially when I began a gradual acceleration.

This was what I was going to miss. There is something quite unique about shagging Californian girls. I had had more nookie in the almost five years I had spent in the state than in the previous decade back in the old country. Having an accent helped of course. I had quite quickly discovered that if I played up my British heritage, I would succeed as a trophy fuck, no matter the fact I wasn't a bronzed Californian surfing stud with a dick the size of the Golden Gate bridge.

I was loving the fuck we were having. But it was approaching its inevitable conclusion and I really, REALLY wanted to roger Patti soundly from behind – my favourite position. We had rehearsed the manoeuver many times before so it took only a moment for me to pull out, Patti to turn over, raise her magnificent butt off the bed and scoot forward to lean on the headboard. This was no time for teasing or subtlety – we were both too close. Although, to be honest, Patti had had far more than her share of orgasms already, so I was feeling no guilt at all as I pushed hard and proud into her while kneeling behind her. I was losing it – no time for starting over and giving well considered slow and languorous strokes. I started pretty fast and within a minute or so my little British ass was flashing backwards and forwards at a pace reminiscent of a rampant weasel on speed. It was going to be any....moment....just about.....n.....

Which was the exact moment the painting I had bought at the Getty museum – a copy of the Van Gogh Irises – chose to fall off the wall over the bed. I had had it framed in a rather heavy and ornate carved wooden frame and as I saw it fall I thought "Fuck, this is going to smart!" Luckily, however, it bounced on the headboard rather than on Patti's head – an event that I think would have caused instant loss of concentration. I pulled out, ready to succour my lady in case she was perturbed. She had moved quickly, it's true – which combined with the impact of the heavy painting was probably why the headboard gave an ominous creak and collapsed itself, causing the mattress to tilt a few degrees towards the wall. Now quite concerned, I prepared to help Patti off the bed and look at the damage, without considering how I would get down on the floor on my stomach – to look under the bed – with the strongest erection I had had in a month.

The Blessed Patti was having none of it, however. Taking a moment to wriggle a foot further away from the collapsed head of the bed, she looked over her shoulder and said "You get that cock back inside me right frigging NOW, Sparky!"

I was always hers to command, so I did as I was told. Quickly getting back up to speed, we were soon both making appropriate noises and shaking the bed as I pounded her just as she wanted. Well – just as I wanted too, to be frank. With a final frantic burst of speed I got to the point of no return. I could feel the head of my cock swelling up and the heat tangibly increasing as Patti's pussy gripped me tighter and tighter. Time did its normal trick and slowed down suddenly and I ejaculated what felt like most of my body fluid in a series of maybe a dozen thrusts.

We stayed coupled in the doggy position for maybe a minute before finally mutually agreeing we couldn't squeeze any more sensation out of the moment. Still naked, we left the now obviously tilting bed and walked out onto the wraparound deck that looked down at the Pacific, to benefit from the cooling breeze and have that most delicious post-coital cigarette of the day.

We didn't say much. There wasn't much to say. We had had a few occasions on which we had enjoyed each others' bodies, minds and sexual tastes, but we knew this was probably the last. As it turned out, in fact, Patti and I shagged each other almost continually over the next couple of weeks before I drove out of California for the last time on my way to the East Coast, It wasn't a plan. It just happened as a result of the effortless and immensely pleasurable way we had slipped back into each other – so to speak – that night.

But I will never forget Patti's last comment to me the morning I said goodbye to her and climbed into the car for a 2,800 mile drive. "You know," she said, "if you ever need a testimonial to parade in front of a girl, I've got one for her that would just reinforce your uniqueness."

"Really? What's that then, Chucklebunny?"

"You give great headboard...."