Dishonor

River is facing the right way for me to snuggle on her. Our naked bodies spoon together, mine behind hers. What’s this? My cock stiffening of its own volition. It doesn’t know that we’re scheduled for tomorrow night. Not this morning. It just knows one thing. But I can enjoy it. I add my will to its will. Pressing against River’s ass. Flexing my muscles. Squeezing my legs together. I slip my cock under her ass. Let it glide and wedge against her vulva. When I squeeze I feel it strain forward, seeking further into her fuzz. Retreating as I relax. My hips draw back, and press forward again. I feel the encouraging brush of her pubic hair on my shaft, magnified a hundred times on my glans as it scrapes through her muff, so close to the object of its desire. And River dreams. I hope.

I give in. My cock’s desire is now my desire. Reach under her ass, a finger finding her slit, parting her lips, feeling the reassuring moistness of her vagina. My cock slips into her. Into what feels like a wall.

River is no longer asleep. If she ever was. She reaches for my cock, adjusts things to her satisfaction, and we press our bodies together, mine into hers.

Not as slippery as usual. No matter. She’ll come around. It’s a small fuck. Just an inch or two, working in and out. I sigh. The exquisiteness of my cock fitting into her pussy. Her pussy enfolding my cock. How could I want anything more. But I do want more. I press in. But she’s not lubricating. No matter. We’re still fucking.

Yes, it is a matter. Here’s a better angle. A smoother fuck. But unless she gets wetter I won’t feel good about finishing.

My hand caresses her skin. Down her side. Over her hip. Fingers press into her favorite places on her back. I hug against her. We rest together.

I can fight instinct. But I can’t win. My hips pull back, drawing my cock out. I pay attention as I slowly slide out of her. The tip comes to rest at her entrance. Push forward. Through her friction. Dip in. Back out. Is she a little wetter? Maybe.

I know I won’t finish. But I can’t stop. My arm wraps around her, strong, constricting. I hear her breath being forced out with each thrust, deeper now, more powerful, meaningful. I think each will be the last. But there’s always another.

“I should get up.” “Instead of getting off?” I smile. “Should I help?” No. I want to do it. Be the master of myself. I pull my hard cock out. Slip my fingers along her slick fleshy labia. Into the wetness between them. I stand, my erect cock jutting unfulfilled. She joins me in the shower.

“That was nice. But I feel dishonorable.” Not waiting until Wednesday evening. “I’m not complaining.”