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.

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