Afterwards

Elaine stood next to me at the Cabo hotel bar, her red hair crazed from the humidity, with a bemused twinkle in her eyes that was probably in part due to the fact that thirty minutes earlier we'd been fucking like crazed weasels in the hotel room. I would have been happy to stay in bed and order-in, but Elaine had wanted to get some fresh air. She twirled her drink with its little red straw and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "I'm leaking like crazy. Maybe I should have worn panties."

My cock began to stir.

Elaine leaned against the bar, sipped her drink, and smiled mischievously with those piercing blue eyes. It didn't seem as though she was blaming me, even if I did have the lion's share of responsibility for what was leaking. It was Elaine's idea after her quick shower to forego wearing her panties. "It makes me feel sexy," she'd said. And now here she was, her bare legs extending below a thin, tropical dress festooned with gaudy flowers, looking about as sexy as a woman can look, panties or no panties.

I locked my eyes to Elaine's and mused silently about what was going on between her legs. We'd arrived in Los Cabos a few hours earlier for a four-day jaunt. It hadn't taken long to discover that Elaine had done a severe bikini trim of her normal thicket. She'd left a thin mustache on each outer labia and a small, furry red-haired patch above. My face hadn't detected any stubble.

"So," I asked, "How's your drink?"

"Mmm," Elaine purred, taking another sip. She leaned forward again. Her breath was moist in my ear. "I can feel it moving down the insides of my thighs." She paused and nipped my earlobe. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sit down at the table."

"There's always room service," I reminded her. Her body remained close to mine, swaying gently to the beat of the music in the next room. When she casually brushed a hand across my hardening bulge, it might have even seemed accidental to an onlooker. I knew Elaine well enough to know it wasn't accidental.

She put her drink down on the bar. "Or maybe we can come back down." She smiled a wicked smile. "Afterwards."

It took only five minutes to get back to the room. Less than one minute of that was spent in the elevator. Elaine directed my right hand underneath her dress, and she stood there brazenly, her feet apart, as my fingers explored her slippery thighs and the slick wetness of her still-pouty cleft. Once inside the room, Elaine pulled her dress up and off, tossing it across the back of a chair. I hadn't noticed when we'd left the room that she wasn't wearing a bra, either. Now I noticed.

Elaine was in a glorious, rutting rush. She yanked up on my shirt while I shucked my linen slacks and underwear, then she grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the rumpled bed. I managed to slip off my loafers on the way, one after the other in an almost comical stumbling dance. Elaine tumbled onto her back, her ass barely making it on the bed, and she kept pulling on me as she wriggled more securely to the middle. She was all giggles and busy hands, and her legs wrapped firmly around my thighs to line me up.

She was still wearing her shoes. They were red, open-toed sandals with two-inch heels and lacings wound up to above her ankles. Fuck-me pumps. "Come'ere, big boy," she growled and tugged at me. My erection found her sweet split, and suddenly I was inside her, buttery slick and hot. I gasped at the raw sexuality of it, of her. "Oh, fuck," she murmured and wiggled her hips from side to side to bury me deeper. "Sometimes I feel like such a slut."

We eventually did make it down to the restaurant that night. Elaine wore her panties.