Maria was practically pulling the hair out of the back of my head when the loud banging noise interrupted her orgasm. I lifted up on my elbows, cheeks and chin glossy with her juices and looked around her bedroom. “What the hell was that?” I asked, concerned that it might be a car door slamming in her garage.

“It’s probably just the washer,” she said, out of breath, “I threw a load of my husband’s work clothes in the wash just before you came in and the stupid washer is off balance. It should stop in a few minutes.”

Her hands clawed eagerly at my ears but I broke away and headed toward the laundry room, right off the garage to her apartment. As I stood there trying to decide whether to turn it off or try to adjust the feet under it, I heard Maria’s feet padding up behind me on the tile floor.

“Let it go, Gary, my husband will be home soon and I haven’t come yet. You promised you could give me a quickie before he gets here,” she whined.

One of her hands was cupping her pussy as though she expected it to be dripping on the floor, and having had my face in it a few minutes ago I knew that might actually be possible. I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her up, sitting her on the washer lid. I pulled her ass forward to the edge of the washer and stepped between her legs.

The apartment was furnished with appliances that included a washer and dryer three quarters the size of regular ones. Putting my hands under her knees I raised her legs and leaned into her. She groped for my cock and eagerly pulled it into her wetness.

She leaned back with her elbows on the control panel and I banged away as she moaned and grunted with each thrust. I stopped briefly to move her legs against my chest and I slid my hands under her ass. The lid under her was warm from the washer, and the shaking of the machine suddenly took on a new meaning.

I held my hands free as the machine jerked and bucked, rocking her on my shaft in a slow methodical rhythm. She smiled and almost laughed. “That feels pretty good but it will take me an hour to come this way.”

My hands filled with the soft globes of her ass and I pounded into her just the way she liked until she screamed and threw her arms around my neck. “I’m coming!” she grunted, and I kept slamming into her until she relaxed her body and leaned back against the washer control panel again.

“Why didn’t you come?” she asked, “I wanted to feel you coming inside me.”

“Unfortunately, even though I was horny the instant I got here, the blow job and then the hand job pretty much tapped the source, Maria.

Coming twice in thirty minutes is the best I can do.”

I have been fortunate when it comes to sexual relations with women. I seem to have just enough to charm and entice women to want to have sex with me. It wasn’t until I met Maria, a chemist, that I realized just how much some women are obsessed with a guy’s ejaculate. Maria had just sucked me off in short order, but told me she could suck off ten or twenty guys and still want more cum. “There’s something gratifying about the feel of it shooting into my mouth, and I love the taste of it,” she had said.

Then as she was stroking me she told me how it turns her on to make a guy come with her hands and to watch it spurt and run down all over her hands, which is what happened within a very few minutes. “Guys just can’t come enough to satisfy us sometimes,” she said as we were dressing. “But I have been experimenting and I have what I think is a perfect solution,” she said proudly.

“Really? What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a pill similar to Viagra but instead of controlling the blood to the penis it enhances the prostate’s ability to produce sperm, a lot of it in a short period of time,” she explained. “There is a good side and a bad side to it from what I can tell. First it allows you to come, actually produce sperm every fifteen minutes up to a period of four hours. But the bad side is that once you take the pill, it kills your sperm count and you probably won’t ever be able to have children.”

I gasped at her information. “You mean a simple pill will let me come every fifteen minutes and I don’t have to worry about impregnating a woman?”

“Technically, yes, but you can’t take more than one pill in a twenty-four hour period or it may cause serious damage to your prostate,” she warned.

“Write a prescription, or give me some if you have any; I’d love to try it,” I begged.

“I’ll give you some, only when you’re with me, but you can have other women with us to see how it works,” she said.

She was in the process of showing me her stash of her experimental pills when we heard the garage door open. I kissed her passionately and dashed for the front door to race out to my car at the front curb. “Call me!” I whispered back to her.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can line up some friends to join us one afternoon,” she answered.

(There is so much more possible if readers think this is worth please?”