Friday, April 29, 2011

Scents to orgasm to

Even River is talking about this the next morning. And in the afternoon she calls me on the phone. “We had a good fuck last night.” I hope everybody’s sweetie can say the same thing. In the evening she’s gazing at me. “You’re thinking about last night.” “Yes.” “Really?” “Yes. How did you know?” “You look like I look.”

We finally get to the oil shop. They have several varieties of plain oil. And I don’t know how many scents. Probably over a hundred. River and I spend a lot of time opening bottles and sniffing. Violet. Bluebonnet. Tube rose. Vanilla. Lavender. Mmm.

Partway through our explorations River finds something to cleanse the olfactory palate. Without thinking, I know what it must be. But I am not going to smell coffee beans. Please. I’m a tea drinker. Thank you. I will occasionally make River’s coffee for her. French press. Like she likes. Simple. Elegant. Like I like. But it’s an act of love. Because she does so many loving things for me.

We mutually decide on Amber and Warm Vanilla Sugar Cybilla. I’m a sucker for anything cybilla. It’s like cotton candy. We get some almond oil as a base, with a squirt bottle so we can use it in subdued light without spilling. Something we learned the hard way. Too many times.

We spend a long time in the evening together making a word search with the soft magnetic letters on the fridge. I like being creative with River. Then we’re upstairs. Candle light. “Who’s going first?” I try to think a couple moves ahead. “I do you first.” Then she can do me, and roll me over and fuck me on top and do all the work. But my plans have a way of not working out.

I do her first. My hands and fingers and fists on her back, her shoulder blades, her sides. “I want to taste you.” But I know she won’t taste like cotton candy, and that would be disappointing. It would be a nice flavor for a blowjob though. If I gave blowjobs. River's not too keen on the idea of going down on another girl. I even have to be careful about kissing her when I'm eating her and I taste like pussy. I don't get it. Pussies are such fascinating things. How can you not want to stick your tongue there? Then I think of myself giving blowjobs. And I get it. I've never even seen another guy with an erection in real life. Not that I'd mind. I just don't think I'd want to put his thing in my mouth. I do some work on her butt, but I know I’m going to have to tear myself away for my turn so I try not to get lost in it.

My turn. But River pulls her knees up under her and rests in her low doggy position, her butt hanging off the back end, her pussy beneath. “What are you doing?” “Letting you feel my butt.” How can I not. My hands rub along her sides. Down her back. Over her ass. Down her thighs. Move around to sit behind her. Reach under, running both hands along the sides of her vulva where her bush is starting to fill back in, my pinkies trailing in tandem across her fuzzy labia. “Am I giving you ideas?” “Yes.” Is she trying to weasel out of rubbing my back? “I feel some response.” My cock is resting on her feet. Getting weightier. I thwack it against her soles. I can’t quite see having a foot fetish. Although the one foot job she gave me was rather provocative.

One hand slides up the cleft of her vulva, searching for her clit. The other gets me hard. Taking its time. Building up to a nice decisive stick-in. I slip a finger into her. Checking the angle. The textures of her vagina. The surrounding structures. Where her pubic bone is. I put my cock in place. It feels different. All my cock feels is the entrance to her tunnel. Wet. Warm. Tight. It takes some pushing to get the angle sorted and start it going in, but it goes. One inch at a time. “When did you get so big?” I don’t know. 15? 16? 17? I wasn't really paying attention. And I've always considered myself fairly average. Maybe a bit lacking in thickness. But that’s probably not what she means. I do feel big today. And she feels tight. And she’s got some nice friction. I finish pushing in all the way. Enjoy the feeling of being connected with River. And we have a nice fuck.

“I think I’ve got something in me. The smell might help get me off.” We’ll take a break later for her turn. It’s my show now. Fast. Slow. Deep. Shallow. Sit River up in front of me. One hand on each tit. Lifting. Squeezing. Pulling. My strong cock pulling out to her lips, then pushing back through, filling her, banging her cervix. Hands crossed on her tits. One hand on both, my arm wrapped around her, hugging her to me. Our bodies are highly compatible today. Like they were made for each other. Maybe they were.

River sits up straight, her hands back on my thighs, her hair flowing onto her back, her back flowing into her ass, her ass bouncing exuberantly between my legs. Fucking herself on me. I sit back and enjoy being her dildo. “I forgot I could do this in hello kitty. It’s nice to remember again.” “You are really fucking hot.”

“You can come before me. Or after me.” “At the same time. In your orgasm.” She rolls onto her back. Tried and true. “I’ll try not to distract you.” “You can distract me.” “It works better if I don’t.” So I don’t fuck too much while she’s doing her clit. Just make sure she knows she’s still got something in her pussy. Something hard. Something ready to fuck her. Leave my head barely inside and let her circles stimulate me, too. Push in slowly. Feel the grip of her pussy. Hold myself up with my hands on her tits. I put my mouth on one and she gasps. Pull her nipple between my lips. Push it around with my tongue. My mouth on her other nipple. Another gasp. My tongue explores her breast. Then my hands take over again.

She’s at it a good long time. She sounds ok. But she needs a break. We fuck some more. Deep and hard. When she puts her hand back down to start again I don’t even try to stay out of her way. I rudely push her hand against her as I thrust, until I’m ready to back off and let her keep going. “You felt goosebumpy.” But I haven’t even had to hold off. It’s a good solid fuck. We’re both in good form. I feel my cock and it’s shedding chunks of dried River juice. It’s all her tonight, no extra lube, just the sweet friction of her own secretions. My hands go back to her tits. Fingers massaging the muscles near her collarbones. Palms slipping lightly over the tips of her nipples. This one is taking unusually long, even for River. I hope she’s enjoying herself as much as I am.

Then it happens. “Here it comes.” I know what to do. Without hesitation. She knows when to cue me. I fill her pussy with my hard cock and we fuck while she orgasms under me. When it slips out she reaches down and puts it back. I don’t know how she has the wherewithal to do that so calmly in the crushing heat of the moment. Like a baby looking for the lost nipple, she says. She just wants it. And she likes it when it goes back in. I’m almost happy it happened that way this time. I am happy.

My body weighs down on hers. Long forceful strokes. Her cervix knocked around. It’s a really long one. A continuous stream of words. “God”. “Yes”. “Fuck”. I can’t imagine how amazing this one must be. She’s usually so quiet. And I can’t imagine coming this long, being fucked so hard while it happens, pounded with hard cock. My hard cock. It’s endless. I feel another wave and go fast, go faster, I’m her vibrator, and she’s still coming, and I wonder why I’m not yet, her orgasms usually trigger mine, but it feels intense and satisfying, going this long with her in her orgasm with our compatible bodies. And our compatible thoughts. Each of us wanting it. Then I feel it. “My turn.” I come, my orgasm engorging my cock further, her cervix moshed even more forcefully as I slam in and feel my come spurting and flowing against it.

“That was an amazing three-hump orgasm.” Easily the best one she’s ever had. Even a one-“fuck” orgasm is something. She said “fuck” so many times I lost count.

We’ve both come. We cool off a bit. I’m still hard. “I’ll see if I can get another one.” I fuck her more robustly this time while she does her clit. Not as much worry about being distracting after the first one. But this one is taking a while, too. “Another leisurely one.” By the time she comes again I’ve gone soft. My cock is still inside, but I can’t fuck her with it. At least this one is obvious. I watch as she closes her eyes and arches her back. And I wonder what she feels. “That was better than some first ones.” “Nice. I sure enjoy your orgasms.”

More cooling off. Then she’s back for a third. “You’re going to be saying ‘that 18th one was better than some 17th ones.’” “Not tonight.” I just grin and watch while she does her clit. Again it’s obvious when she comes. Her arching back gives it away. Even the third one must be better than some first ones. I often can’t tell when she’s coming. I make a mental note to fuck her in mini-v while she comes, lifting her pussy while she arches onto me.

“Your turn. Roll over.” Is she serious? She’s going to stay awake and do my back after having at least three fucking amazing orgasms? “Are you sure?” She could barely walk after that. Barely hold her legs in place for her third. “It’s up to you.” I can’t turn her down. Finishing with my back massage would make a nice symmetry. Two periods of relaxing calm bracketing an unavoidably intense lust-crazed festival of cotton candy-scented fuck. I roll over and she straddles me. “You don’t mind if I drip on you.” “Of course not. I might even like it.” And it’s giving me ideas. I’m running out of mental notepaper.

I really enjoy my massage.

“I’m glad you think I’m so fucking hot. You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.” She repays me in my own currency. I accept. “Thank you.”

The next day. I’ve had this thought before. On other occasions. “That was easily the best fuck in town last night. You know there had to be one. And that was it.” “Probably a larger area than that.” We were so well-connected. At least we don’t have expectations that it’s always going to be like that. Hopes, perhaps. But not expectations.

“I don’t see how you could possibly come so long. I can’t possibly do it justice. I’m going to need you to guest write for me.” In her own style. So much more mystical than mine. “It’s got peaks. I could draw it for you.” With color, I hope. Geeky artist sweetie that she is.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

“Would it be ok if I woke you up early tomorrow?”

Last night River got a no-strings back rub. I feel like I’ve owed her one for a while. “Would it be ok if I woke you up early tomorrow?” “The kids don’t have school. We can even sleep in.” “Perfect.” We set a time.

I’ve been awake on and off for hours. Sometimes with a pounding night hard on. When the time comes I lie next to River. She’s dreaming. Can I do her in her dream? I get hard easily. Roll over, put my cock between her legs under her ass, feel the head scratch against her muff. Like I like. A noisy alarm clock from the next room wakes her up. Why it’s set when there’s no school, I don’t know. “That wasn’t part of my plan.”

We’ve got a while. I’m just enjoying my erection brushing against her snatch. “Are you going anywhere with that?” “That was the plan. What can you do to help?” “Roll over.” Now we’re face to face, my leg between hers, my cock pressed against her vulva. She pulls the covers off us. Our bodies look nice together. Her curves, her pubic strip, my hard cock projecting from above my balls and disappearing beneath her mons. I hear wet smacky pussy sounds. Does she have her fingers back there? No, it’s just my cock pushing things around as we dry hump. It turns me on. What doesn’t.

And I hear a jet plane taking off. Fortunately we don’t hear that too often. But I think of all the times I’ve flown, my mind wandering to the towns and lights below, and wondering how many people down there are fucking as we fly over. Today I know the answer. A least two.

She pushes me back and gets on top, positions my cock against her pussy, slides onto it. “That helps.” I feel her experiment with angles and rhythms. There’s the short-long rhythm I used a few days ago. Does she like it? It used to be my masturbation rhythm, one short pump, one long pump, repeat. It’s nice having her do it to me. With her cunt. “Do what feels good to you.” Right away she rolls onto the bottom. Ha ha. I get it. Fortunately River on bottom feels good to me, too.

We hear various kids get up. Go to the bathroom. Back to their rooms. Then downstairs. We usually leave our door open. They can’t see anything through it. But at some point we have to scramble for the covers. We push back together in spoons as River pulls the comforter over us. The stealth fuck position. But no one comes in.

I’m missing interlock. It used to be my favorite. My cock stabbing into her smooth, deep pussy. Her clitoris available to both of us. Her breasts in easy reach of my hands, and my mouth. But when I push my leg between hers and roll her into position, it’s just not the same. We didn’t do it for a long time because I thought she didn’t like it. Now I guess I’m the one who doesn’t get a whole lot out of it lately. But I still miss it.

We’re getting sweaty in the muggy morning. At least I am. The humidity following an all-night rain. Might as well take advantage of it and have a hot sweaty fuck. We’re uncovered again. I’m back on top. We're hot. We're sweaty. We’re fucking. And enjoying it. “You should probably finish soon.” “If I can.” I don’t feel my orgasm on the horizon yet. And I think I overdid it when we had to break for lube. Too slippery now. “We can always finish later.” That’s sweet.

But predictably I’m not ready to stop. I sit up, bring her knees together in front of me, and watch my cock slipping in and out of the bit of snatch peeking from between her closed legs. “I wish you could see this. We should get you a mirror.” I grab her waist. Now I feel something. Much as I’d like to finish later, I can’t stop. Can’t resist the feeling of impending orgasm. I bang into her until I’m about to come, then push her legs up and lean into her, I want to push in but I don’t want to, I tease myself, just sliding the head in and out of her opening, until my cock stiffens in orgasm and I’m spurting my come just inside, then pushing through it for the afterfuck.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

We did WHAT with bacon?!

We have a date set up for tonight. River is on notice that she has to come up with the plan. I’m thinking it’s been a long time since we’ve used blindfolds and the straps under the bed. But I don’t want to influence her. “If you don’t come up with a plan, I’ll do it to you anyway.” Just so she doesn’t stress out. “I was counting on that.”

But my mood rapidly deteriorates for no good reason. I’m really down. And tired. I go to bed hours early and have a light sleep while River studies. When she comes into the room I’m awake, but silent and motionless on the bed. And bummed. And distressed. About everything, it seems. I hear her stand there and wonder what to do. She knows she’s always welcome to wake me up. I want her to come and snuggle on me. But my mood is so bleak that I’m not sure what I’d do if she tried to start something.

River gets in bed. Stays on her side. I can’t think of what to do. I can’t think of what to say. One of us has to do something. Anything. She gets up and goes downstairs. That’s something. At least I don’t have to say anything now. But I still don’t know what to do.

Yes. I do. And I know what to say.

I find her downstairs in the library. And I ask. “Are you ok?” We have a long talk. About everything that’s getting me down. She gets me through it. It’s bad, but not so bad. We’re partners. We get through things with each other’s help. She comes over and sits on the futon with me. I think I’ll pull through. I thank her.

“Are you thinking dirty thoughts?” I smile. How did she know? “Well, yes.” “We can go upstairs.” “I was thinking of here on the futon.” She thinks. “I can sit like this.” She turns to the back of the futon, looking out the front window, across the porch to the street. “And you can do something from behind.” She lifts her robe, unveiling her smooth naked ass. And the pussy I’m always wanting to get my tongue on. She looks stark but appealing in the porch light coming through the window. “What would you like for a warm up?” “I don’t think I need one.” “But what would you like?” We’ve been here before. River wanting it straight away. Me wanting warm up. “This is my warm up.” I rub her back, feel the solid curve of her ass, the fuzz of her labia between her thighs. Pull my cock through the fly of my boxers and stroke it. Feel her pussy. Slip a finger inside. “That’s quite wet.” “I told you I didn’t need a warm up.”

I’m not getting as hard as I should. Probably not hard enough to start. I try anyway. Too soft. “I can be more welcoming.” River reaches down for my cock, spreads her legs in an interesting configuration, tries to get it in, but still nothing. We’ll have to do the stick-in face to face. She sits on the futon, her feet on the seat, offering herself to me, her robe spread open like an extra set of lips around the flaps and folds of her pussy. I squeeze on in front of her. My fingers in her brown hair. It's gone better, but we get it started. And we fuck. With River compressed against the back of the futon. And me trying not to fall off. “Your boxers are wet.” I feel them. They’re quite damp in front of my balls. Her doing. I like it. But it’s a little strange. “We don’t usually even make a wet spot.”

When my cock is nice and hard she turns over and I slide it in from behind. It goes in easily. Nice and hard into nice and wet. We run through a couple positions. Me standing, me on the futon with her, her butt high, her butt low, grabbing her, grabbing the back of the futon. Seeing what works best. They all work pretty well. We end up in hello kitty. A favorite lately. There’s not much room on the futon for both of us, so I’m tucked in tight behind her, sitting on her feet, her heel rubbing my butthole through my boxers while I rock on it.

We’re fairly well lit by the porch light. Both of us looking out the window just a few feet in front of us. Someone walking by on the street wouldn’t be able to see much but our faces. But it would be pretty obvious what we're doing. Having a nice fuck. If they even looked in. “I’m waiting for somebody to walk by.” So I don’t want to come yet. But it’s late, and it’s raining out. I should just come. Stand up again, grab River’s waist, and bang. “That’s nice.” “Straight up the middle.” I have a loud, moaning orgasm, trying to stand, leaning on River for support.

It was a good talk. It was a good fuck. I feel better. I hope it lasts.

Monday, April 25, 2011


“So what did you think of Thursday?” “It didn’t do much for me. It doesn’t hit any of my sexual spots. But I didn’t mind.” “Didn’t mind? That’s high praise from you.” It probably puts it ahead of cunnilingus.

For me, it’s a strangely appealing, and strangely intimate, way to add variety every now and then, but River’s vagina doesn’t have much in the way of competition. Her butt is a pale imitation.

Sunday, April 24, 2011


The most commonly clicked tag on this blog is “anal”. Why is that? Not because it comes first alphabetically. It doesn’t. So why? I have two theories. The first is that people are just curious. Who isn’t curious? I am. Who’s doing it, do they like it, how can I get my partner to do it, how can I get my partner to like it. Probably not by bombarding them with how everybody else seems to be doing it and possibly liking it. But what do I know. My second theory is less charitable than the first. So I won’t go there.

If you click on the “anal” tag, there is not much to see. Until a few nights ago, River and I had done one anal experiment. But even though this blog chronicles everything else, all it says about that night is, “We both agree. That was a fucking amazing date.”

And it was. I’ve re-read what I wrote about it. And the whole thing was fucking amazing. To me, anyway. It may be time to publish that particular piece of history. Or it may not. Somehow, the thought of hanging it out there and piquing the prurient interest of a crowd of “anal”-clicking lurkers and drive-by readers and people googling words they can’t even spell correctly just doesn’t make me feel right. Even though it was a fucking amazing date.

So I’m testing the waters here to see how I feel about it.

River knows I’ve been anal-curious forever. She made a video for me long ago. With a dildo. I can still picture it. “I know you’re curious about this. Do I dare?” And she slips it up her ass. But she won’t do it with me. “I would like to have anal sex with you,” I whisper during at least one intimate conversation. But she makes it clear that it’s off limits. Not because she’s had bad experiences. She hasn’t, and I’m glad for that. Neither of us has any experiences. And I’m glad for that, too. But I wish she’d experimented with me, instead of with a dildo. I am envious.

I’ve done my own experiments. River knows this, too. I borrowed her dildo. She knows where it’s been. I learned a lot. Learned about relaxing. Learned about going slow on the way in, and the way out. Learned how much I can take. Learned that for me it was the small movements that were nicest. And the naughty sensation of taking something as deep as I can.

We’ve slipped fingers into each other, once, while she was on top in reverse cowgirl. Occasionally I finger the outside of her butthole. Maybe push in a bit. And it turns me on. At best, she doesn’t mind. But she doesn’t consider it a sexual part of her. It's an unhygienic portal for elimination.

River worries that her butt will become her new vagina for me if we do it. I don’t think so. I love fucking her in the pussy. It’s built for it. It feels great, physically and emotionally. It’s got limitless possibilities. We’re a nice fit. It can take all kinds of abuse. “It might be something we do a couple times a year. If we like it.”

Then one day we’re having an intimate conversation. “Happy birthday. We can try it some time. When things are clean. And we feel like it.” Many months later things are clean. And we feel like it. Cunnilingus to start. River orgasms. We fuck before and after. We use a condom. And lube. I’m glad I experimented on myself. I take it slow on the way in. Hope she’s relaxed. Ask how it’s going. Some small movements while she gets used to it. Or tries to. Since this might be the last time we ever do it, I take the opportunity to push in as far as I can. It keeps going, and going, until she’s taking it all the way. I’m pleasantly surprised. I hope she can say the same. When it’s time to pull out, I take it easy, going slow, letting her close gently as the head slides out.

“How was that?” “Confusing.” “Would you do it again?” “Yes.”

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Capriccio in A, Op. 241

River suggests going out for Thai food this evening. Just us. That’s a good idea for many reasons. Thai food is one of our favorites. We’ll be in a good mood for sex afterwards. And I’m hungry. “Oh you, who needs some warning.” “I consider myself warned.” That was easy. “I’ve even made an appointment.” What is she talking about? I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. “And I believe I’ve been making passes.” “I’m talking about your butt.” “Oh. Ok. Some champagne might be in order then.”

We get a late start, but I bring the champagne up, uncork it, and pour us a glass to share. We pull each other’s clothes off. River sits against the wall at the head of the bed. I sit between her legs. “Last time we had quite a lead-in.” “Every time is different.” How well I know that. My cock gets hard for her touch. I move forward and we casually start fucking while we talk. It’s some nice face to face. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop and pull out for the next course. “Any thoughts on position?” “Not really.” “We did low doggy last time. After some fumbling.” And we’ll do low doggy again. At least to start.

We both realize it’s time. River rolls over and curls into low doggy. “With a condom?” “Did you use one last time?” “Yes.” She required it. “You don’t need one. As long as it doesn’t go back in afterwards.” “I’ll wash.” “Use lots of lube.” I’ve got the silicone lube. That stuff has ass-fuck written all over it in my mind. It’s the first thing I thought when she brought it home. We’ve got some thick water-based stuff that my favorite shop recommended. Maybe next time. If there is a next time.

I lube my hard cock. Dribble some in her crack and rub it in. It’s hard to see in the candlelight, but it feels about right. The tip of my cock meets her asshole. And slips down into her pussy when I push. Try again, using my fingers as a barrier. It goes in so easily that I think I’ve missed a second time, but when I look down, there’s my cock going into her ass, her beautiful ass, and I push a little farther in, let her get used to it, pull back, push in, grab her waist, fuck her ass. Slowly. I can feel the ring of her anus around my shaft, but beyond that it’s nebulous. I push all the way in for good measure, then back out and work my glans in her sphincter. If I do that long enough, I’ll come.

She’s making some soft sounds. Does she like it? Do I like it?

We sit up into hello kitty so she can have more control. I feel like her dildo while she fucks me with her ass. “Fucking” doesn’t seem like the right word. It’s like fucking, but it’s not fucking. She’s being surprisingly aggressive, sliding up and pushing back down onto my cock. Now it’s more like fucking. I fuck back.

What next? Roll River onto her side, into t-bone, me kneeling behind her. I put my hand on her ass, feel my cock sliding into it between my fingers, use them to keep it in line when I pull all the way out then push back in.

She rolls onto her back and we’re face to face. Our default position. Still in her ass. It feels a bit sad to be neglecting her pussy. “If I were a guy I’d have a nice hard on right here.” “And I’d want to reach down and suck it while we’re doing this.” Like I want to put my tongue on her clit while we’re fucking. The geometry doesn’t work in either case, but it might be slightly better if she were a guy.

Sometimes I wonder. Would I have fallen in love with River if she were just like she is, but male? Being female seems to give her an insurmountable advantage for some reason. What, besides millions of years of evolution, gives her this advantage? I don’t even look at guys the same way. Sure, they can be cute. But girls have something guys don’t. Some kind of attractive mystery. What.

We stop for a lube break. When I push back into her ass I realize it’s the fifth time I’ve penetrated her there. It won’t be much longer before I lose count. Like how I can remember the first two times we ever fucked, but somewhere along the way my mental history gets washed out. All that remains are certain memorable screws. Memory is strange. Why can I remember every place we’ve ever done it? Does that have anything to do with why I want to do it in so many places? So I can remember?

I’m finding sensations that will make me come if I keep at it. But should I come? River reads my mind. Or my body. And answers my question. “I don’t think I’m ready for you to come there yet.” I’m happy to save something for later. And by now I’m sure there will be a later. How much later doesn’t really matter.

I go to the bathroom to wash up. My cock is clean. Except for the lube. It claims to be easy to wash off. It isn’t. It’s impossible to wash off. I wash three times. Two different kinds of soap. My cock still feels like it’s got a teflon coating gripping it by the pores. Next time we'll try something else.

Fucking River in the cunt is like coming home after a vacation. “That’s a good bang.” I grab her shoulder and we fuck hard, fast, no holding back, until I'm coming in her pussy. Home. “A sprint to the finish,” River calls it.

Shower together in the morning. “I feel like we should be going out for breakfast. I feel all first-timey.” Even though it wasn't. “That’s cute.” “I’m sure we went out for breakfast after our first time.” “We would have had to.” “You had cereal at your place.” “Oh yeah.” A girl after my own heart. “But I’m sure we would have gone out for breakfast.” I probably even skipped work to do it.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

“You sure are nice to do this with.”

“You can feel my ass if you want.” That’s good to know. I’ve been feeling it for a while as we hug. I’m glad she’s not proprietary about her body where I’m concerned. Her firm cheek fits into my palm, I pull her against me, rub our bodies together, feel the response in my crotch. She takes her bra off under shirt. I see nipple. “For your feeling pleasure. Some delayed gratification. A preview.” “This is how we should start. One of us seducing the other.” “I’d take you up on that if I didn’t have so much crap to do.” I wish I could help her. I try. But sometimes it seems like she wants to make things hard on herself.

I warm up River’s side of the bed for her. My sleepy mind presents itself with two choices, and thinks it must decide. Move to my side so I don’t fall asleep on her side and become an obstacle. Or stay on her side so I can pre-sleep and River can wake me up to fuck. My sleepy mind does the best it can. I move over.

I’m not asleep when she comes in. “I’ll give you a back rub.” “I wouldn’t turn that down. Lower back and left butt cheek.” Her elbow on my butt goes right where I need it. Her hands flow over my back, fingers rippling. Everywhere she touches is the right spot. “You’re really on tonight. I’m really relaxed.” “You can just fall asleep if you want.” No. I can’t. She lays on top of me. Her muff brushes my butt crack. Her right leg slips between mine, then her left leg, opening them up. Like I do to her. “You want raunchy?” I open my legs as far as I can. River mock-fucks me, lying between my legs, holding herself up, humping against my ass. It’s not as easy as it looks. She closes my legs and straddles me and her pubic bone bumps a slow cadence against me. Now I know what it’s like. Barely. “This is kind of sweet. I wouldn’t mind this at all.” “We should do face to face. But I don’t have a plan.” “I lie on my side. You reach from behind and I get hard. Then whatever happens, happens.”

I lie. She reaches. I like her doing me from behind with her hand. It’s like doing myself, only better. “This is reminding me of the time we did this standing in front of the open balcony door.” “The carefree days before nursing school.” We both feel the sudden increase in rigidity that means I’m ready. “You should be more confident in your left hand. I am.” She strokes my now-hard cock. Her cock. I wonder how that feels for her, going from limp to ready at her touch. Flattering, she’s said.

We roll into jackknife. Her legs on my shoulders. She did a good job on me. I rub my stiff shaft against her slit. Push it down until it finds her opening. And we fuck. “Not so deep again.” I fuck against her g-spot. I sit and press her legs together in front of me and watch as I fuck the sweet hole beneath them. River pushes against the wall. I push into her. Lift her ass by her legs. She feels solid. Buck my hips and push into her. She feels yielding. Move both her legs to one shoulder, wrap an arm around them, brace against the bed with my other hand, and fuck. And fuck. And fuck.

“You sure are nice to do this with.” “You, too.”

Sunday, April 17, 2011

River's turn

River was talking about the laundry room. Or was she? She’s called it the least sexy room in the house. So what if it is, I think. But she has completely different ways of thinking. More than one. I can never be quite sure which way she might be thinking. I’m not even sure what all her ways are. No matter how well I know her, no matter how much history we have together, she can surprise me. When she talks about the laundry room, I’m surprised. There’s something we need to do together in it, she says. We’re about due for something interesting, she says. And she may still be wanting to make it up to me for the night at the train station.

But that’s not what she was talking about at all. She’s talking about orgasming tonight. That's how different we can think.

She seems stressed out. Not very orgasmic. What relaxes her? A warm bath. Being slathered with body butter. Both. She wants the butter. I never turn down a chance to touch every curve of her body. From her toes, up her legs, her butt, her back. She turns over and runs her fingers across her stomach and I butter it to enhance the experience. Slather her arms to a supple silkiness. Her breasts saved for last. Her nipples firm up nicely as my fingers slip over them.

“You can start.” She doesn’t have to wait for me. It’s her turn. Her fingers start right in on her clit. My fingers stay on her boobs. I love their compactness. Just enough to turn me on. Hard. “You can do that to my boobs as long as you want.” “Thanks for letting me know.” Her chest is my playground. I’m tickling, smashing, squeezing, apart, together, both hands, one hand, pulling her nipples, pressing them, top down, bottom up, outwards, inwards, around, while she closes her eyes and thinks of whatever she thinks of while she masturbates. Thinking of how it feels, she’s told me. But I’m focused on her tits, with only the occasional soft wet smack of her pussy to remind me of what she’s doing. “I can take over if you get tired.” She’s been at it a while. But she seems relaxed. Eyes closed. That’s good.

“Here it is.” Her body shakes. Her fingers alternately play on her clit and rest on it. I want to fuck her in her orgasm. Of course. But we’ll get to that. “That was a strange one. Like it wasn’t all there.” That’s not so good. Maybe she was too stressed after all.

“What now?” “Hello kitty.” “That should be interesting.” For both of us. She sits up, reaching down for her button. I sit behind her and stroke my cock, my thumb sliding upwards along the top, trying to coax it into standing up. My hand slides under her and the spread of her pussy feels nice from behind. Her cunt feels cool and wet when I slip a finger in. And tight. “I want to get my cock in there.” It’s not fully hard but I press it in. And we fuck. Almost. If it didn’t keep slipping out. “Is it a problem with the angle?” “It’s a problem with hardness.” I slip my cock into her once again. This time we’re less aggressive. “I can’t even tell. It feels nice and big to me.” “Your orgasm has engorged you.” It’s more noticeable from behind. The sides of her pussy are firmer. Closer together. Tighter. My cock appreciates it and stiffens quickly. And now, we fuck.

“I wish you could see yourself like this.” I describe her shape for her as I trace it, widening across her shoulders, tapering in to her waist, spilling out into her smooth ass nestled between my spread legs, her nice piece of girl, my hard cock bridging the gap between us. “Can you get another one?” “I already have.” I wish she’d tell me. “But like the first. Not all there somehow.”

So it’s my turn. We fuck, my cock reveling in the tightness of her post-orgasm pussy. “Not so deep today.” A bit tender in there. But it’s just as nice going halfway in, and I have to ask her to stop moving so I can hold off while my cock twitches at the edge of my own orgasm. “You’re nice and tight tonight.” On a sudden whim I lie down on my side while she stays in hello kitty. “That’s different.” It’s strange seeing her from the side while she fucks me in this position. Somewhat voyeuristic. “I can see your tits from here.” Her nipples spouting exuberantly from her breasts, at slightly different angles. Then she rolls in front of me and we’re spooning together until I sit back up and we’re in t-bone. “Mix and match.”

But tonight needs nothing less than a sweet and raunchy face to face finish. River rolls onto her back, flips a leg over me, and I push between them, hard, forgetting about not going deep, harder, my cock plunging all the way into her warmth, her wet, her squeeze, her raunchy, until it’s my turn to come. “I’ll finish.” It’s too good not to. “I can feel it coming already.” One of those rare orgasms, my jizz flowing before I come, tickling up my urethra, streaming from my slit, I want to hold the feeling but I can’t and my orgasm grabs me, hurls me against her, breaks me on her, and I'm moaning, panting, pulling my shattered pieces slowly back together. And remembering.

“How can we keep that feeling all day?”

My plan yesterday was to go to the roller derby with River and in the evening she’d have a nice orgasm or two or three and I’d fuck her in one or more of them. The second is my favorite to come in. The first one is hers. The second is for both of us. Like most of my plans this one doesn’t work out, and we postpone until morning. When morning comes it seems like sleep would be better than sex for her so I don’t wake her up.

River wakes up about fifteen minutes before she has to get up. I was right about letting her sleep. She needed it. She’s nice to wake up with. There’s something about a naked sweetie. And now I know what it is. She’s naked.

She rolls over and puts her arm on me. That’s so sweet. I reach down and pull her leg across me, her thigh resting warmly on my balls, and rub her back with one hand, while I slowly grind my hips against her, the skin on my balls being stretched against her leg and pulling on my cock enticingly. I want it to get hard so I can roll her on top. We’ve been talking about getting her on top more often.

It’s not getting hard. I pull her on top anyway. It’s been a while since I’ve done that. Now I can use both hands on her back, my fingers rippling down beside her spine, across the concavity of her back, following the curve of her ass, rising and falling, down her legs. Her legs feel strong, one leg descending firmly on either side of me, and I can’t help but think of her pussy spread between them, of tensing my muscles to lift my hard cock off my body, and of entering her while she slides back onto it. But I’m still not hard.

I leave my hands on her ass and pull her against me, rubbing my cock against her pubic bone. I don’t want to repeat yesterday morning, so I say it. “I’m thinking of you in a sexual way.” Yesterday morning. When I was rubbing her back, and she was thinking non-sexual thoughts while my cock rose of its own accord and made itself apparent. Until she got out of bed ten minutes early, leaving me feeling undesirable, unable to evoke the intended response in her. We talked about it. “Yes, you are. How can we keep that feeling all day?” “Start now, finish later.” “We’ve only got about three minutes.” “That’s enough.”

River sits up on me. Gets me hard with her hand. Leans forward. Leans back onto my cock. And fucks me with her well-lubricated pussy. Ovulation.

She experiments with different angles and pressures. Her pubic bone scrapes up and down along the top of my cock. She settles down on it and I relax into the breathless feeling of penetration. She hugs against me and I feel timeless. Sits up and spreads her legs wide and her power flows into me.

When our time is up she presses her knees together and rests her legs on my chest, then slides up to the tip of my cock. I can see it resting in the moist folds of her lips. I want her to squeeze down once more. But our time is up.

Today I feel desirable. I’ll have that feeling all day. And when River comes home, we’ll finish what we started. “You inspire me, you know. Having sex without an orgasm. It’s actually quite nice.” “Maybe I’ll have one tonight.” Me, too.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Static come

We’ve got something to do at one or two in the morning tonight. Not that kind of thing. Just something. River hints that I might appreciate her being in the right frame of mind this evening. “I wouldn’t turn that down.” She even suggests we could pass several hours that way. I offer to take some pharmaceutical enhancement, but she discourages it. Although she admits she does like being fucked by a nice hard one. Yes, she does.

But at ten o’clock we’re both tired. How could I be tired? I don’t get tired like River gets tired. Too tired to fuck at the end of the day. But this must be how River feels some nights. How strange. Maybe that wine at dinner wasn’t such a good idea.

“This might just put us to sleep. But we could watch a movie. One of those movies.” “What would be the point of watching one of those movies and falling asleep? And they don’t have them on netflix. They can be pretty boring though.” “I’ve got some on my laptop.” Behind the Green Door and The Opening of Misty Beethoven. Golden age stuff from the 70s. When porn flicks were real movies. “Although Behind the Green Door is pretty slow at the beginning.” We save it for another time.

“We could take a nap.” “One of those naps?” As usual, I can’t keep my hands off her. I oil her back and butt and spend a long time enjoying her body. She’s probably wondering when she’s going to feel me take one hand off her and put it on myself. I’m wondering if she’s going to fall asleep. Just today we were talking about how we could save time. Fuck and study. Fuck and brush. Fuck and sleep.

At last my hand comes off her and starts getting me hard. Unlike nearly every other time I’ve done this, I don’t feel her pussy. Even though dipping my thumb into her helps me a lot. I want the first thing she feels down there to be my cock, pushing between her lips and filling her. A nice hard one.

My cock is hard enough to fuck. Not as hard as I’d like. But hard enough. It’s taken a while to get there. I had to get a little closer to coming than I’d like. I think about jacking off and sliding it in just as I come. A fantasy of mine. Or maybe River could hand job me then finish me off by sliding her pussy down my cock. Not a whole lot in it for her though. Just drippage. Rhymes with fromage, when we say it like that.

Now I realize how dark it is. Normally I’d slip it in with my thumb on her perineum as a guide. But all I want her to feel is my cock. I’ll have to put it somewhere in the dark diamond under her ass and hope.

“That’s the right spot.” We both push and feel the head slide in. Then a little more. I think my idea works. River likes a fuck with no warm up. What follows is a long, self-indulgent fuck that I won’t go into. Other than to say I really enjoy it.

When I’ve had enough I roll us into spoons. And it’s even better, the friction sweeter, my arm around her. This is what spoons is supposed to be like. Our bodies fit together just like we’re falling asleep. Except we’re fucking. Like I always want to do when we’re falling asleep. Only now it’s the opposite. We’re fucking and I’m wondering if this would be a good time to fall asleep. But River is fucking back, pushing her ass against me in sexy ways. Not a good time to fall asleep.

Maybe a slow come. I can feel it getting closer. And I’m starting to feel a little bad about how self-indulgent I’m being and how long I’m taking. “Not long now.” But I can’t pull it off. So I sit up for t-bone. And now the friction is different again, with my cock going into her sideways.

I still want a slow come. And this time it will work. When I get to the edge of orgasm I pull out, leaving my head barely inside her. There’s one contraction like I’m coming, but I don’t feel anything flowing yet. I don’t move. River doesn’t move. An intense warm agonizing pressure slowly builds in my balls. There’s no stopping it. I wouldn’t want to stop it. I'm over the edge. Barely. Just when I’m wondering whether I’m going to pass out the tension snaps and I feel the first explosive squeeze of orgasm hit my nuts, feel the pump of my semen, and slowly push into her as I come. “That was really crazy.” “A static come.” Yes. Slower than slow.

“Sorry for being so self-indulgent.” “I wasn’t surprised.” “I mean about how long I took.” “I’m not complaining.”

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


“I should warn you that I’m still dripping. If you want to eat me.” “No worries.” What kind of person would I be if I made her drip all day then shied away from my own jizz. I’m looking forward to it. When she brought a pineapple home from the store I suggested it would go nicely with my plans for tonight. She’s game.

After this morning I’m ready to go again. “Would you like to see whether you’ve got one in you this evening? No promises for later, but I’m in the mood now.” “Probably. But let’s see how we feel later.”

We’re in bed together fairly early. Snuggling for warm up. Although I’ve got a feeling that maybe River would rather back out. Which would be fine. That’s what we agreed on.

My hand roams her body. Her small tits, nipples perking through my fingers. The soft skin of her inner thighs. Her scratchy muff, bare skin on either side. Her succulent lips.

The comforter covers her body, her face at the top, her bare legs emerging from the bottom. I position myself over her. “Remember the time we did it like this? It felt kind of chaste.” With the comforter between us. “Hardly chaste.” “You know what I mean.”

We move to the edge of the bed. The comforter blocks my view of her face. All I can see are her legs. And her pussy. She tastes good tonight. The tangy taste that I like. Extra tangy. Like limeade. I love limeade. I lap at her hole. Licking it up. Push my tongue in as far as I can. Tease her clit, then settle in on it. I’m glad we left a strip of fur. What’s a muff dive without some muff.

“I can tell you’re working hard, but I’m not feeling much.” I can tell. She’s not trying much, either. She’s been fairly inert. I try to make up for it by pulling her into my face and being my usual enthusiastic and attentive self, but it doesn’t go anywhere. “That’s ok. I’m working on something else for you to feel.” I move my tongue back down to her opening and the limeade really does it for me. Mouth-watering. I get hard quickly, nice and hard, like I knew I would.

I rise and stand at the foot of the bed in obvious readiness. No hands required. Just get it in the right place and push. Feels a bit crude. In a good way. It takes some wiggling on River’s part before it slides into her. River juice, this morning’s jizz, a touch of oil, and now my own saliva are all mingling in the crucible of her cunt. I give it a good stir, my cock straining, trying to expand past the edges of its own hardness, her pussy both soothing and invigorating.

The comforter covers all of River’s face but her mouth. What does she see in her mind? Colors? Someone else? Nothing? I’m not even sure what I see with my eyes open. My sense of touch overwhelms. The firm softness of her body under mine. Her warmth. The pressures where we come together. The tip of my cock, only wanting one thing, so sensitive yet unaware of most aspects of its surroundings. The shaft, being rhythmically caressed up and down by the ring of her pussy opening. The base, snugging satisfyingly up against her.

My chest presses down against the slight stubble of her lower legs and I feel alive. My hips arc my cock in and out of her pussy and I feel wanted. My movements are automatic. Instinctive. Like breathing. Then I take control of the thrusts. I do what I want. Microfuck, just the head in her opening. Steep fuck, watching my cock descend downwards into her, beneath her dark strip of curly brown fuzz. G-spot fuck, with the complex tactile sensations of my cock grazing past the textures of her front wall. Her hands on my waist, on my ass, her nails on my back. My hand on her shoulder, gripping meaningfully, my arm tensing as I pull her firmly against me in counterpoint to my thrusts, her moans encouraging me.

“Ok.” Again I haven’t held off. I haven’t encouraged it. It’s just here. And it’s going to be a good one. She pulls me towards her as I come, gasping and panting and collapsing.

I feel her trying to push me out. I resist. Who will win? She will. She always does. I’m at my most vulnerable. “And I have a secret weapon.” I have no defense. She coughs, and I squirt out.

I wish she’d had one in her.

A stimulating little fuck

We didn’t leave too many horrible loose ends dangling last night. This morning we’ve got some sweet emotions going between us. I ask River whether she’ll read what I wrote about yesterday. She will. She does. She thanks me. And it shakes loose some issues from her side. Some of them I knew about. Some of them I didn’t. We’ll talk more later. But for now we want to connect like we didn’t have a chance to yesterday. We could go out to breakfast. Or River offers something I might want to do instead. The choice isn’t that hard. Breakfast. “Good choice. Take care of the emotional side first.” And the rest will follow.

We go to our favorite breakfast spot and have a nice long breakfast together. I’m a slow eater. Especially when I’m talking. We talk about art. And stuff.

Somewhere between breakfast and home we realize we’re going to do it. But we’ve only got a half hour. “In the car?” That’s a surprise. “I would have done it where we parked at the restaurant.” But neither of us really wants to do it where we've parked on our street.

The bedroom. “I’m going to leave my shirt on.” “And your socks.” “Of course.” “What should I wear?” She drops my pants and boxers. “That’s fine.” “Do you have one in you?” “Probably not in 30 minutes. But probably in the next few days.”

I have a hard time getting it up. It just won’t go. I can’t do it. River can’t do it. River blames it on my full stomach. Even when she’s there in front of me, partly dressed, ready to go in hello kitty, I’m not getting hard enough for the stick-in. “How are we ever going to do it on a bus when we can’t even do it in our own bed?” Finally we resort to the limp dick fuck, propping it up, pushing, trying to keep it from buckling, and suddenly we both feel it pop into her and we know everything’s going to be ok. My cock quickly stiffens in the sweet friction of her pussy. And we fuck.

I hold myself off her so she can watch the action, my trimmed cock driving into her immaculately coiffed pussy, my balls pulled in tight. I’m pulling all the way out, my cock hovering in thin air, then plunging deep into her. Then I just hammer away, fast hard, steady, banging, slapping, liking the involuntary sounds she’s making. I pause and smile. “You like this, don’t you?”

When it’s time to come it just feels right. I haven’t been holding off. I haven’t been trying to make it happen. It just comes at the right time. She feels it, grabs my ass, and pulls me in deep. “I didn’t know you could reach that far.”

“That was a nice quickie. A stimulating little fuck. It was hitting everything just right.” “You always seem to like it hard and fast. It never disappoints.” “I like slow, too.” “We should have a sweet fuck sometime.” “That was a sweet fuck.” “I thought it was kind of physical.” “Your head was in the physical space, mine was in the sweet space, and that’s just fine.”

And we're stronger.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Whatever doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger

This is supposed to be a blog about fucking. But sometimes it's about not fucking. That’s how it goes today.

We take a trip out of town. We’re going to drive, but River asks me to check the train schedule. Neither of us is looking forward to the long drive there and back. And the train schedule works out. But I was looking forward to hours of talking together without an audience. And another thing. “I was going to try to convince you to pull off the road for a while.”

We have a nice trip to our destination. It’s River’s trip. I’m proud to be with her. We had a nice fashion show, picking out what she was going to wear. And now we’re having an adventure together. On the way we’re nice and snuggly, each of us getting to be in a world of our own for a while, and getting to be in our world together. Lots of sweet kissing. In sunny spots. In tunnels. Whenever the mood hits one of us. And it hits often.

As always, she’s irresistible. It’s her curse. Or my curse. I see what I can get away with, feeling her through her skirt, my hand hiddden by her book. Not much, and she doesn’t help. I’m always asking River if she wants company when she uses the bathroom. I’m not entirely serious. But I am probing her comfort zone. And she’s feeling some pressure I certainly don’t intend. “I will not have sex in a train bathroom.” I can’t blame her. “Where would you?” “The back of the car.” She’s turned that down numerous times. But she sounds serious. I cleaned the car a few days ago, and that’s one of her issues.

The train arrives at our destination with its invariable lateness. We have no time for lunch before we have to do what we came to do. We get on the bus. It’s empty. The only people with a reason to get on this bus are train passengers taking it into town. We are the only two. It’s not leaving for ten minutes, and the driver has gone into the station. “Would you do it on a bus?” She gives it serious consideration. Looking around the bus. Looking out the windows. Noticing a big flat seat cushion. And it’s a clean bus. “You can turn around and keep a lookout through the window, while I . . .” Can I do it? I kneel on the seat beside her, unzip, and pull my cock out. I wish it were hard. A limp dick just isn’t exciting. To me, anyway. The erectile dysfunction at work. “You flashed me on a public bus.” That may be the first time I’ve seriously flashed her. “I think you’ve done it before. But not for a long time.” I put it away, the driver comes back, and the bus pulls out. When I notice the many security camera domes on the ceiling I give them a friendly wave.

We do what we came for. I’m proud as all get-out. River is sweet.

On the trip home I’m more subdued. I’ve made more flirty men’s room advances in town. And women’s. I think she knows that by now it’s just a running gag, and she’s even joked back, but I know my suggestions can get irritating, and she’s practically promised herself in the back of the car and I don’t want to go overboard and ruin the opportunity. It would be a sweet and adventurous end to a sweet and adventurous day together. The car is clean. It’s been three days, River’s preferred interval. We left the car in a titilating spot by the road. The stars are aligning for it. I leave the matter in her hands, where it belongs.

Again the train arrives late. But only twenty minutes this time. We walk to our car, parked on the road outside the station parking lot. We get in. “The back of the car?” Has she forgotten? Was she serious? Did she mean today? But she doesn’t tease me like that. “Too cold.” “The car has a heater.” She’s already started the car and we’re pulling away. “We’re late. The friend watching the kids has school in the morning.” As seems to happen so often when the stars are aligning, River has a list of reasons why not. I’m more interested in finding ways to make it work. Like using the heater. But the opportunity evaporates. I have left it in her hands and it has slipped through my fingers.

She was serious about the back of the car. She even agrees it was parked in an excellent spot. She apologizes. “I wonder how I can make it up to you.” I already have some suggestions. But moments like that can’t be manufactured. And I’m not a scorekeeper. “You already have.”

But then. “On a scale of 1 to 10 for fun, you’re about a 3. On a good day.” I can’t believe I said that. That’s no way to negotiate. It’s pure backlash. We get a bit argumentative and rehash some issues I’m still trying to heal from and come to terms with. River thinks I should have let go of them by now. I would if I knew how. None of my coping strategies seems to work out. Trying to have adventurous sex is one of them. Experience tells us it will be a few days before we’ve worked things out and have the right comfort level to be sexually intimate again. Naked bedtime snuggles, yes. Shower together, yes. Sex, not yet.

I even suggest post-confrontational sex, but neither of us thinks that’s a good idea. Not a good dynamic. Not our way.

I thank River for helping me get my feelings somewhat more sorted. Again. At her expense. Again. “And how can I help you?” “I don’t know. But I’ll tell you when I do.” I may have to remind her.

I feel terrible. It was her day and I’ve hijacked it.

But whatever doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Phone sex

“I’m at your beck and call.” River is on the couch. Incapacitated. “Beck me. Call me.” “You can make dinner.” I work my way through the vegetables for pico de gallo, prep the chicken for grilling. I pop into the living room every now and then for a visit. Smooch. Rub her feet. Suck her toes. “You making dinner is really hot. I'm getting turned on.” That’s giving me the obvious ideas. “Or maybe it’s watching David Byrne in this video.” Stop Making Sense. My suggestion. “I approve. You can get turned on by whatever you want.” And so can I. Even if all I can think of at the moment is sexy accents. “And we can do something about it together.”

I’m in the bathroom and I hear River’s voice. On the phone. At 10 o’clock? In the bedroom? That’s unheard of. I quickly stifle my reflex to be offended. She has a good reason. And this is an opportunity. River knows my fantasy of her doing me on top while I’m on a phone meeting. I can switch things up and do her while she’s on the phone with a friend.

I walk to the foot of the bed and strip. Purposefully. I want my intent to be clear. She’s wearing shorts. I pull them down. She doesn’t seem to mind. Helps, even. When I reach for her panties she lifts her legs in the air for me to whip them off and throw them aside and reveal her neatly manicured bush and her lush lips. I could eat her. But I’m naked for a reason. I want to go all the way. While she’s on the phone.

She keeps up her end of the conversation as I spread her legs, sit between them, circle her clit with my thumb, and start working up an erection. She’s still talking like nothing is happening. From her point of view, maybe nothing is. But I know she’s getting something out of this or she wouldn’t be doing it. My thumb slides down to her pussy opening and feels her wetness while my cock starts to stiffen. I want to stick it to her while she's talking. See if I can make her gasp. River’s friend will never know we’re fucking while they talk. Or will she? But their conversation ends before I have my chance. Thirty more seconds and I would have been there. Maybe it wasn't doing anything for her after all.

“Didn’t you skip something?” Her back rub. With oil. Her lower back needs some attention. I give it to her. I always enjoy touching her. Any part of her body, with any part of mine. “I’m almost putting myself to sleep tonight.” We’d better get to it.

We do the stick-in in default, me pulling the skin tight above her slit as I push in. When the head of my cock is secure in her pussy I roll left and we fuck with her legs over my hips, her feet on my ass pulling me in. It’s a nice position to explore her pussy with my cock. Unhurried. “You feel nice.” She’s got her classic post-period goo today, thick and nicely slippery. “And those are some impressive sounds.” My cock smacking in and out, a steady rhythm at varying depths, her pussy giving a particularly affectionate squeeze tonight.

I want to go deeper. Maybe this will work. I pull her legs towards me, hold them against me, slide one onto my shoulder, curl my top leg over her hip. It works. It’s close. And intimate. And deep. A good long fuck. Neither of us talking.

I want an interlock finish. It’s been a while. I miss it. I shift us into position and there’s the characteristic feel of penetrating River in interlock, through the frill of her improbable spot, into her pussy, long and deep and relaxed.

I should be coming. Why am I not? Are River's secretions too slippery? No, she feels nice. I don’t know. But I know how. I move my hand up to her nipple and focus on the feeling of orgasm, the warm feeling that starts on the ridge of my cock, spreads down the shaft to my balls, then explodes and pumps my load out. I think about how much I enjoy River, how much I enjoy being with her, how much I enjoy doing things with her, doing this with her, how warm she makes me feel. And I come, feeling warm, feeling friendly, feeling loved.

A quick pullout tonight, my cock popping out of her. We clean up and sleep well.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Something straightforward

I have an impulse to proposition River during our walk. After our kiss in a sunny spot. “Would you like to do it today?” “Yes.” I don't know why, but everything that happens the rest of the day is hilarious.

She’s in bed. Under the covers. Partly dressed. Partly undressed. I strip while she watches. Something is happening under the covers. Her blue stripy panties trickle off the side of the bed and fall to the floor.

I straddle her. Pull her shirt off. Unhook her bra. Feel her tits. Feel myself start to get hard. But just barely. She puts her hand on my cock. I close my eyes and breathe deep and heavy. In about a minute she’s given me a nice hard one. The kind I want. She deserves a good fuck for that.

“‘Fuck me,’ she said.”

I leave my hands on her tits. My weight pressing down on them. She rubs my cock on her slit, down to her opening, up to her clit, the teasing way she does. When will she put it in? This time? I hope she does. And I hope she doesn’t. The tease is so nice. And my cock is so hard. This time? Down to her opening. Back up to her clit. I know she can’t hold out forever. She wants it. This time? She slides it down and I feel it stick. I push in. She puts her feet on my ass and pulls me in farther. I feel wanted.

“You . . . are really wet. What would you like to do with such a wet pussy?” “Something straightforward.” That would be me on top and straight up the middle.

I keep my weight on her tits while we fuck in default. Lay my body on hers for missionary. We’re both in good form. Harder. Wetter. Deeper. Stronger. Would jackknife be straightforward enough? Probably. She knows where I’m going and puts her legs on my shoulders. I know where I’m going, too. Into that fuckably wet pussy of hers. Feeling for cervix. My cock raking across her g-spot. River’s faster-than-mine speed. Steady. Something straightforward. Is it working for her? Or is something wrong? The sounds she’s making are hard to read. But I know she’ll tell me if something is wrong. So I just fuck.

I’m upright again. Watching my cock fucking into her slot. Seeing her hands on the wall, pushing back. My finish is getting closer. I know she won’t have one in her so I don’t bother asking. Just work on mine. Maybe mini-v. She calls it stimulating. So do I. Too stimulating. Now would be a good time though. But it’s not a satisfying finisher for me. I’d make that sacrifice. But my hardon is too strong and I want something better. But she gave it to me. But she’s always appreciative no matter what and she deserves the best. But I won’t be able to sustain it for long. Would that still be good?

My decision is made for me. We push together as I come, a satisfying come with a hard cock.

“I’m glad you know what I mean by straightforward.”

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

What's come over me?

I pick River and the kids up at the airport. Airports should have rooms for fucking your long-gone sweetie when she gets back. Like they have play areas for kids. In their absence, I scout out likely places and find a few. The most intriguing is the glass elevator. I doubt anybody is looking at it. They’re all looking at their phones. I’m certainly not looking at it. To the extent that in retrospect I’m not even sure it’s glass.

River drives us home. She’s as cute and beautiful as I remember. She feels me looking at her, turns, and her face lights up in a smile that I can’t help but return. We hold hands for the brief walk to the restaurant door. We sit next to each other instead of across from each other like usual. My favorite is sitting across the corner from her, but we don’t have that option today.

“We’ll be passing my least favorite exit.” I don’t think she’ll be able to flash me in the sleeveless shirt she’s wearing. But she’s thinking. “It’s ok if nothing happens. Just the thought counts.” “I’ve got an idea.” Whatever it is will certainly be a surprise.

She unhooks her bra and pulls it out the bottom of her shirt as we drive. But she’s got a jacket on now. What’s she up to? “The exit is still a ways off.” “I know.”

“Uh oh. We passed it.” “Yes. But the thought counts.” “I undid my pants.” That was stealthy. I had no idea. “I was going to grab your hand.” “Here it is.” My hand goes down the open front of her pants. Into her panties. I feel her bare skin with the strip of muff down the middle. And feel it. And feel it some more. How far down can I go? Not far enough. “Is that going to be your favorite town now?” “That was a surprise.”

I read to Brook. It’s late. I’m surprised she doesn’t drop off before I’m finished. And I’m surprised River isn’t tired. She must be looking forward to something.

She showers, washing away the smells of traveling and being gone, leaving her own scent to intoxicate me. Dries her soggy muff and invites me to feel her lips. I stand behind her, watching us together in the mirror, my pinkish coloring, her paler skin, my cock rubbing over her ass, my hands on her waist, up her sides, onto her breasts and shoulders and neck. “I should have a raging erection by now. I haven’t had one in over three days.” “I can help with that.” Some friendly banter about whether my cock should go in. And how she can coerce me into making it happen.

The shea butter. Our new pre-fuck ritual. I spend so much time on her hand that I may never finish. “It should be slow.” Up and down her fingers, like an erection thickening in my grip as I stroke them by ones, then twos, then threes. I sit between her spread legs and admire the Y they make of her body, and the strip of dark fur punctuating their intersection, while I butter her feet, her calves, her thighs, smoothing it into her skin, working her to a luxurious all-over consistency. Over her mound, down each side of her vulva. Up her waist and sides to her breasts again. My fingers slide over her slippery nipples, and she moans.

I know how we’re going to fuck tonight. “Raunchy stick-in.” She rolls over onto her front with her legs still spread wide. Her firm ass cheeks glow in the candlelight, her pussy gaping below. I butter her juicy ass, kneading the fleshy globes, squeezing, spreading, rubbing butter down her crack, lingering over her cute asshole, down her vulva. She wiggles her ass at me as my fingers press up her back, to her shoulders, and back down.

She’s ready. I’m not. I drift in her softly lit form as I reach for my cock and stroke it. The butter feels nice on her, but has too much friction for a good jack. I'll manage. Her pussy tempts me to lick it. I give in. But as good as the shea butter feels, the taste makes me abandon my effort. I circle her opening with my thumb, push in, feel her walls envelope it with their wet warmth. My fingers slide along her crack. Do I dare? I do. My finger rubs her asshole, then I push in to the knuckle. I feel her sigh more than I hear it as I ease my fingertip back out, push through again, and finally slip both my finger and thumb out of her.

I want to fuck her pussy. Badly. Right in her raunchy. And I’m hard now. One hand holds me up, the other guides my cock to her hole. She pushes back as I enter and my hard cock slips into her snug pussy and we fuck. This is not the easiest position for me to fuck in. But I like it. Feeling her ass against me. Watching her submit to the power of my deep, hard thrusts. My orgasm is a long ways off, but her moans start calling to it. And it hears them.

I lift River’s hips and she pushes her ass up into doggy. Her spread legs are unusual for us. But effective. And right for tonight. “Raunchy doggy.” “Yes.” I grab her waist to counter my thrusts, pulling her as I pound into her, feeling cervix at the end of her tunnel. I pull her backwards onto my cock, push her forwards sliding her off, making her fuck me while I hold still. Or am I fucking myself with her?

Two things happen when we do this position. A lot of air gets sucked into her pussy. Almost every pull-out I pause so she can queef. One of the many sounds of fuck. We don’t mind. We kind of like it. But the air dries her out. And I don’t want to stop for lube. Stopping is hard. “Put your head down on the bed.” She drops from her elbows and lays her head down, her back sloping up to her ass, her pussy still in position for me. And the fuck is even better. Giving orders isn’t really my style. I follow up with “Are you comfortable?” “Yes.” Ok then. I grab her hips. And give her my hard cock. Where she likes it.

We keep up a good bang until we both realize we do need something slippery. It’s out of reach. We push forward together and I find myself straddling her left leg, my balls resting on it, River’s ass rolled up at an angle. Inviting position. River hands me some massage oil and I lube my cock, then her pussy, and plunge back into her waiting invitation, feeling my balls brushing up and down her leg as my cock slides in and out of her pussy.

Her skin has a nice friction for gripping. The butter at work. I grip her ass hard and pull it against me. My other hand on the small of her back, pressing her into the bed. Again I’m fucking myself with her pussy, pulling her ass firmly towards me for the plunge, pushing her away with her cunt sliding wetly off my cock, then tightening my grip and thrusting her onto me again. She takes it and moans.

What’s come over me? I’m fair and equitable. Now I’m driving an ongoing power fuck. And we both like it.

I slow down. Deep and slow. Stare at my cock sliding into her. Enjoy its hardness. Enjoy her soft wetness. Enjoy the moment. “Slow finish?” “I don’t want to finish.” I press against her ass, not moving, just my hips humping my cock in and out of her, my balls sliding on her leg, my cock pushing through her opening and against the side of her pussy with each thrust.

She moans. Calling my orgasm. She knows that makes me want to come. I grind into her again and again until I feel the come and I can’t control myself, I fall over her, my hand still gripping her ass, my face hits the bed, and I push in, and in, and in, and I don’t know how or why but something in my head is counting, 8, 9, 10, 11, surely I’ve pumped myself dry by now but I can't stop, 15, 16, 17, then one last squeeze. And I’m finished.

Finally I sit up. River puts her hand on my heart. “Are you being a nurse?” That’s what she’s studying. “No, but I could feel your heart beating against my back.”

Even when I’m spent I stay hard and we keep fucking. I don’t want to finish. “You’re a good fuck.” “I always think you’re better.” “Not possible.” “Yeah. We’re a team. It takes two. And I like doing it.” I hope she remembers that. I will.

River must be sleepy after all. She leaves a t-shirt handy and falls asleep.

Monday, April 4, 2011

What are you wearing?

River is out of town visiting relatives so we don’t get to do it for a while. One of us calls the other every night. But she’s not really the phone sex type. She’s not the Skype sex type either. But at least she’ll flash me on Skype. I’ll have to remind her about that though. I want to see her muff. Or what's left of it.

So there we are. On the phone. The first night goes something like this: “What are you wearing?” “I haven’t even taken my bra off yet.” Why she even puts one on, I don’t know. That’s not true. I do know. But I wish she wouldn’t. Her small tits perking through her shirt are a sure thing for me. Always a treat. But having her bra between us is worse than having a phone between us. A phone and a bra? That's too much for even me to overcome. Unless she's ovulating.

The second night. “What are you wearing?” “A tank top.” Mmm, I like her in sleeveless. I picture her in it, and nothing else. She knows I like that. Her soft brown hair falling in tangled waves to her shoulders, the tanktop, a black one, coming barely down to her creamy ass, her cheeks swelling smoothly beneath it, her secret darkness waiting to be revealed. She turns, and I catch a glimpse of her freshly waxed landing strip, first from the side, then full frontal, cleaving her pubis vertically. My fingers push between her legs as we kiss, she spreads them for me, my thumb flicks across her nipple.

“He wants to know what I’m wearing.” “I was just leaving the room.” At least whoever she’s talking to there gets the hint. How could they possibly be related?

The third night. “What are you wearing?” Maybe she’s getting the hint by now. “Blue shorts and a top.” I guess not. She claims to be lousy at hints. She’s right. I like the subtle connection of a well-taken hint. But with River I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. Good thing I like her so much. Fortunately she doesn’t mind the direct approach, and it works pretty well. But for me, “let’s have some phone sex” doesn’t set things up quite as well as “let’s fuck.”

The fourth night. “What are you wearing?” “Well, let’s see. I looked under my cousin’s bed, and found a purple and gold teddy.” I know her cousin. She was probably a virgin when she got married. So when River says teddy, I think bear. Then I get it. She’s one step ahead of me. But only because I took a step back. Sadly, purple’s not really her color. Even though she looks good in anything. “And there were some straps, and . . .” “Handcuffs?” “Yes.” “Put them on.” “Ok.” “Your cousin is naughty. But you’re so much naughtier.” This is fun. “Look in her drawer.” “I’m opening it.” “What’s in it?” Probably a Bible. I’ve got some ideas for what she can do with that, but most of them involve her ass. “A feather tickler.” Cousin is somewhat naughty after all. In my mind it’s turned into a feather duster, and I’m working out which end to suggest using, seeing the spray of fluffy dark feathers emerging from between her legs as she works herself into a lather with the handle. “I’m sleepy.” I sigh. Unlike the real thing, I don’t think it would be much fun doing her over the phone while she falls asleep. “I love you." "Sweet dreams.”

The fifth night? That’s tomorrow. I'll call her during the day and ask her to be Skypable. Her muff will just be the beginning.

Addendum: A wave of panic floods me. I'm the one who's not getting the hint. After all, I know she's not the phone sex type. An embarrassed shame sweeps through me. Then I remember why that could never be. River doesn't get hints. And she doesn't give them, either. Sweet, calming relief. And contentment that she lets me be myself.