Saturday, May 14, 2011

River's tale

Since we didn’t finish in the shower this morning, I know what’s going to be on Reed’s mind this evening. Sure enough, when I walk into the bedroom he’s sitting on a chair, naked, playing with his cock. “I was just trying to be ready for you and save some time.” I should have known he’d jump on that idea. “But it’s not working as well as it should.” At least he’s put clean sheets back on the bed. I like clean sheets. That reminds me of the laundry in the dryer. It’s the old sheets, and some clothes I need to wear tomorrow. “I need to go down and check the laundry.” I leave Reed to his own devices.

“That looks more rod-like.” I must have been in the basement longer than I thought. On some other day I’d want to get on that. Today I know I’ll be getting on it whether I want to or not. “Is it ok if I turn out the light?” It is. Reed likes the strip show in the light, and I like screwing in the light almost as much as he does (how many fucks does it take to screw in a light bulb?), but the kids aren’t quite asleep yet and having the light off might discourage them from wandering in. And it might discourage anybody from looking in the windows. And maybe it would help me get to sleep before we finish.

“Should we get on the bed?” “I was thinking here on the chair.” I think we’ve tried that. Doesn’t Reed remember? The arms don’t leave room for both of us. “Turn around.” Why didn’t I think of that?

It’s an easy slide down onto Reed’s cock, but this is going to be a strenuous position. It’s not bad at first, with my hands on the arms of the chair and Reed’s hands under my ass helping to lift, but it doesn’t take long before we both burn out. I’m glad Reed appreciates it when I go along with his creative whims.

It’s a silly time standing up and getting over to the bed, with Reed’s cock variously in again and out again. I bend over with my hands on the bed and we fuck like we did in the shower this morning. Maybe he’ll finish what he started.

No, we’re getting on the bed. He’s so eager that he mounts me and we fuck in butt position while my legs are still hanging off the end. “What can we do to help you get more out of this?” he asks sweetly, but not entirely altruistically. “I don’t think it works that way.” I feel him shifting positions back there. I hope he’s got enough room. His fuzzy balls slide up the backs of my legs, chasing his cock as it slides into me. A moan escapes me when he puts his hands on my back and rests his weight on them while he’s driving his cock in. I tend to forget how good it feels to have his cock going deep into my pussy, then hammering me. Fortunately he reminds me every now and then. Maybe a little too often, though.

His hand presses my side and I know what to do. Roll over, swing my leg over him, keeping his cock in my pussy. This is better. We hug our bodies close, he puts his hands on my head, and I move my hands along his sides and wrap my legs around him as we fuck face to face. My favorite.

“What do I get out of this?” he asks. And he answers. “I feel loved. Intimate and bonding.” And he likes a hot fuck.

One of the kids is up. Reed hears it, too, and stops. I’m not sure I want the kids to see us doing this, even though there’s nothing wrong with it, and after all it’s how we made them. Sounds like a long bathroom break, and maybe someone coming down the hall, but eventually whoever it is goes back to bed.

Now it’s Reed’s turn to be fucking with his legs hanging off the bed. I unwrap my legs and spread them wide in flying V, balancing them with no effort, feeling classic as my gaping pussy waits to be plundered. Reed eyes me appreciatively. He does like a hot fuck. And so do I. He pounds me hard, our bodies smacking together so loudly the neighbors can probably hear, I reach back for the wall that isn't there, then he comes, quietly but enthusiastically, with his head back and his muscles tense, his cock pulsing inside me and his jizz filling me. Then he smiles. “I get far too much out of that,” he says. “That’s how an orgasm is supposed to work. Uh oh. I forgot about not making you drip.” “It’s not a big deal.”

Afterwards I’m always wanting to drop right off to sleep, but Reed has this thing about talking in the afterglow. He must get more out of the whole thing than I do. Maybe I'd get more out of it if I could come every time. But it's either too much work, or it takes too long, or I just don't have one in me. So we talk about how often we have sex. Reed always says we don’t do it as much as I think we do. Doing it too often, or even thinking we do it too often, wears me out and I end up not liking it as much. Doing it once or twice a day for a couple days is fine but three days is about my limit and I need a break in between. Reed adds, “I like flurries, too. I don’t like thinking we’re not going to do it today because we did it yesterday. And the thing I didn’t like about the week we did it every day was always doing it in the evening.”

“I feel loved.” “You are loved.” “So are you.”

1 comment

wife10yearsin said...

Reed was right in his first comment to me... I am like him and my husband is like you, River. It's so interesting!

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