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.

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