The fourth day

By mutual agreement, today is the fourth day. River thinks I’ve got a better chance of fucking her in the orgasm by waiting until today. I hope she’s right. This morning I misbehave and go on a long bike ride without notice. When I get home I eventually do things right. I think we’re on for tonight. I drink lots of water. Just in case.

But it’s late. Really late. Is the end of the day just the end of the day? I hope not. “Do you want the light on?” “Why would I?” “So you can see something you like.” I turn on the reading lamp beside the bed. I do see something. Something I like. River has the covers off her hot naked body. She reaches down as we talk, her hand traveling over the fuzz, her fingers resting on her clit. Not resting. Stirring.

I sit beside her. Eat her pussy? I've been wanting to. But she prefers hand jobs. I want what she wants. I take over. It’s hard to gauge by feel what’s going on in her body. I listen. Her breathing sounds relaxed. Calm. Like the breeze though the broken window. That’s good. For now.

“You can go the other direction.” I don’t think I’ve ever done that, aside from when I use my other hand. It’s a little awkward at first but my fingers fall into the rhythm, the hood between my second and third fingers rubbing smoothly over her clitoris. “You’ll have a counter-clockwise orgasm.” Now she starts to move, tilting her pussy up and down. Her clitoris is more prominent. Sweet wet smacky sounds from below as I circle it.

“Faster and lighter.” Thanks for the beta. It can be hard for her to talk to me at times like this. Her breath gasps. Her pelvis moves like it wants something. It does want something. I want it to. Her clitoris is fading. It’s close. But the finish doesn’t come. I keep going. Close again. But no finish. She can finish herself. She worries that what I’m doing is boring. It’s not boring.

I let my fingers drift to her pussy opening. It’s a velvety wet invitation. Very wet. Very inviting. I accept it with my tongue. Tasting her tang. Feeling the bump of her clitoris. Then letting her take over.

I watch. Her lips following the circles of her fingers. Her nipples waiting for me. I move a hand onto one, fingers brushing, hard nipple rolling between them. Her other nipple is not so hard. Yet. It comes to life in my hand, blood flowing, stiffening.

Her breathing says she’s closer. My finger slips tightly inside her. Pushing towards her perineum. Beckoning for her g-spot. And my cock comes to life. Rising in anticipation. Becoming nicely rigid. Ready to fuck her. In the orgasm. Sitting beside her with my hard cock and my finger inside her feels so right. For now.

“Here it is.” Her breath gushes. Her body gyrates. My finger is still inside. Pressing her g-spot. Circling it. I’m hoping to feel more, but anything else must be lost on me. This time.

Is she still coming? Is there still time to fuck her in it? I think so. I’m between her legs. I fit my cock to her pussy. Her wet velvet invitation. I know what I can do with that. I bury my cock in one quick powerful thrust. She’s still coming. I fuck hard and deep in her warm wet pussy. Her body squirming. Her cervix pushed aside. Her breath gasping.

We barely recover and she’s back for more. My dick is nicely hard, the whole thing fucking in and out of her while she does her clit. Did she even tell me when this one started? I don’t know. But suddenly we’re fucking hard, fast this time, pulling her against me with her shoulder, my foot slipping off the bed onto the floor, still fucking, I’ll come in this one, back onto the bed, still fucking, her still coming, my own orgasm almost here, then it’s here, I think, a continuous stream of orgasm while we fuck, but it’s satisfying, worth waiting for, and when we’re both through we slow down, and then I can’t even remember. Except her third.

“It’s not boring.” “It’s a little boring for me at first. Wondering whether anything will happen.” I’ve got about four stages. Not being sure I’m going to come, even though I almost always do. Getting onto the step, where I know I’ll come, but don’t know when. That’s where I like to be. Sometimes I can stay there, sometimes things just want to go forward. Next is when I’m about to come unless I stop. That’s the hold-off point. The partial orgasm point, sometimes. Sometimes I come even though I stop. And my final stage is when I’m coming. I wonder if River has stages anything like mine? She lists off a few—wondering, starting to move—then gets lost. It must be a lot different for her.

“I don’t get how you can have amazing orgasms like that and then not want to do it again for a while.” “If it always felt like that I might want to do it more often.” “You’re always saying you don’t need a warmup. Much as I kind of like just starting in without one, it seems like it’s always better with one.” I should insist. But we both get impatient. For the good part.