Sunday, August 28, 2011

Changing plans

Parts of this story take place over several days. On the first day, River and I are on one of our usual walks, having our usual kiss in a sunny spot, having our usual pleasant reactions. “We should really find some place nearby for when this happens.” But a quick look around doesn't find anything.

The next day we’re in bed. Having a pre-sleep kissy session. “This is when you’re supposed to be getting a reaction.” It’s obvious when I get one, but not at all apparent when River does. She says it’s implied, but I’m not sure I buy it. She generally mentions her reactions in sunny spots and other places where we can't take advantage of them, but rarely says anything about getting one in bed. An idea hits me. “We can park the car on our walking route, and use it when we need to.” Not much response, but in a good way. Like she might actually go along with it.

Today we’ve again deferred our scheduled morning sex. We’d like to go for a walk today. We even arrange our schedule so we can. “So where are we going to park the car?” Not much response, but in a good way again. I don’t press it.

It’s a busy day, and somewhat hot. Our walk hasn’t happened yet. River proposes we wait until after dinner. Fine with me. Then a surprise. “It won’t be very comfortable in the hot car.” That’s a good point. “How about the balcony tonight?” Sure. Twist my arm. “Ok. And I’d like for you to be on top for a while.” “Ok.” She's never been on top on the balcony before. I look forward to our first time.

I'm almost asleep on the bed in my clothes with the light on when River finally comes in. She leaves to brush her teeth. When she comes back I’ve taken off everything but my shirt, lying on the bed with my butt in the breeze. Hoping it’s not getting too chilly outside. “I don’t see the cushion out there.” “Look again.” It’s in a new place tonight. In a new orientation. Variety. River peels down to her skin and once again I marvel at how smooth and girly and hot she is. I guess she’s not worried it’s too cold. I take my shirt off, too.

I offer to butter her. She accepts. We haven’t done this particular pre-fuck ritual for a while. Up one leg, across her ass, lingering in her crack and between her legs which she's spread for better access, down the other leg. Up her back to her shoulders, down her arm.

It's nearly time to turn her over when we hear footsteps in the hall. Usually just a late night bathroom break for one of the kids. But this time they’re coming down the hall. All the way to our room. With our door open as usual. Good thing we haven’t started yet. River gets up, naked, to investigate the problem. I can’t believe this is happening.

She comes back and we pick up where we left off. Butter up her stomach to her breasts, kneading them, probing the muscles underneath, nipples slipping under my palms and between my fingers. She starts in on my cock. It’s slow to respond. I sit beside her, fingering her pussy, light circles on her clit, while she gets my cock to harden. Nice and easy. Making every stroke count. “You’re perfect. You must have had one of these in a former life.”

I don’t want it to end. But we’ve got a job to do. “I’m going outside.” Into the dark. The air is a pleasant shade of cool. I’ve forgotten the towel. River goes to fetch one. I try to keep myself hard while she’s gone, but it’s not working. We slip the towel under my ass, she straddles me, strokes me. “We might have to trade places.” I find her nipples, tug on them, feel the nubs slipping slowly between my fingers, listen to her sighs. And get hard enough. Her pussy slides down my cock. And we fuck.

Seeing River above me, surrounded by twinkling stars while we fuck out on the balcony in the open air, is amazing. Even better than I thought it would be. We should do this more often. Bring the whole mattress out here. The street is quiet. The only thing moving besides us is a plane, miles above. I wave. “At least two.”

“You’re farther off the ground than usual. I’ve got to lift my butt higher.” “I notice that when I’m on top. I kind of like it.” She fucks me in single point. She fucks me hugged close. I fuck back. Then let her do all the work while she single points me again, her cunt caressing up and down my shaft for an impossibly long time, me wishing I could come like this tonight, with River above me.

But she’s done enough work. We trade places. I straddle the cushion, my balls liking the cool air while I penetrate her warm snug pussy. “You always feel bigger when you’re on top. Thicker.” “Do you like it?” “Yes.” I gather her legs between my arms and press them to her chest, their stubble raking my skin while my cock drives cleanly into her pussy. I bring my knees up onto the cushion with her and go deeper. Harder. I feel a finish. Faster. My knees lose their purchase, I move them back down to the deck, there’s still not enough grip and I twist and writhe for friction, hoping there’s enough, barely finding what I need. “I’m going to finish.” Just saying it gets me there. Another twist, another writhe, another thrust, and my load spurts into her, more, deeper, milking one final squeeze. And that’s all I remember.

I like her on top on the balcony. Next time, doggy and hello kitty. Maybe next summer.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Just a thought

We’re at a lake. Near a boat ramp. We don’t have a boat so I have no idea whether this is typical but the wrong sort of people are certainly attracted to the boat ramp today. The smoke blowing, obesing, personal watercraft noising, dog off-leashing, fake southern accenting type of people.

It’s a really nice day. Our picnic blanket is spread on a grassy slope. The kids are occupied. We’ve just had a nice sunny-spot kiss. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “Probably not.” She rarely is.

What am I thinking? I’d really like to get it on here and now with my beautiful sweetie in this beautiful (and comfortable) spot on this beautiful day. So what if some boat-rampers might notice and take some sort of misplaced offense? I can’t imagine they’d come over and bitch about it to us. If we can turn a blind eye to their off-leashing and their smoke, surely they can turn a blind eye to us?

But it doesn’t get any further than a thought.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The worst of days

Neither of us is expecting the dice to come up “1” when I roll it in the afternoon. But it does. River winces a bit. It’s been the worst of days. “You should roll first next time.” Even I feel like that’s not what we needed tonight.

I hope I'm wrong. I wait in bed. Maybe she’ll do the start I’ve been wanting. Waiting a long time. Finally she’s here. “Are you going to start?” “How might I do that?” If I want something, ask. Or show. “Like this.” I put her hand on my limp cock. And hope I’ve got something tonight.

“Weren’t we rolling for tomorrow night?” A temptation to say yes. But I give in to the other temptation. “No. Tonight.”

Her rhythm is perfect. Pulling from the base up to the head. Lingering a moment, her fingers on my glans. Sliding back down after just the right amount of anticipation. How does she do it. My body moves with her hand. My cock thickens. Lengthens. Hardens.

“What do you need?” “I’m ok.” “I’d like to repay you for doing all the work.” By starting on top. There she is. Her face. Her breasts. Her bush. Her body. And mine. She slips me into her. The head penetrates. Small movements. Soothing sounds. She pulls me towards her and I fall completely into the delicious depths of her body. And we fuck.

I hug her. My weight on her. My head next to hers. I need this. I need her. Her solidity. Her comfort. Her acceptance.

I sit up. Hands on her breasts. Nipples between my fingers. She arches onto me. Her dark fuzz spilling over her mons. Enveloping her labia. And my cock. My hands on her stomach. Her hips. Pulling us together as she pushes onto me.

A glimmer of finish. It will just happen. We fuck. Her bush, her girlness, arousing me. Fucking me. Closer. Her face. Her breasts. Her body. Her acceptance. My sweetie.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Five days after

It’s been a while since we’ve rolled the dice for our schedule. Five days. I’m not sure why. Part of it is me wanting River to say “time to roll”. It’s nice to be relieved of the pressure of being in charge of sex, but if I’m always the one who has to initiate the dice rolls then the pressure is back. And it’s even worse, because I expected the pressure to be gone. And part of it is, well, it just hasn’t seemed like the right time.

It’s not that I haven’t tried. River will be spooning me in the morning, and I’ll say “and now is when you reach around and do this” and she’ll say “or get up,” and then get up. Or I’ll suggest “the balcony tonight?” and she won’t answer.

So here we are tonight, in bed, reading, turning out the light, snuggling. “When are we going to roll? Or is something just going to happen.” “I think it’s just going to happen.” “When?” “Now?” “Why?” “Because I’m getting a hard on.” Snuggling with my naked sweetie and talking about sex is getting me hard. As it should. I slip it between her legs. “I feel that.” I should hope so. I feel it too. “I like having a hard on.” I sigh and enjoy the dry hump. And roll on top. For something sweet.

River rubs her clit with my stiffie. She can do that as long as she wants. And she does it a long time tonight. Around and around, up and down. We talk about something unrelated. I always enjoy the incongruity. She pushes the tip down. It lodges against her opening. I smile. And push. And push some more. We feel it together as my cock bursts through the improbable spot into the nice juicy friction of her pussy. And we fuck.

We go through at least a dozen variations of me on top. But always with River’s legs spread tonight. She spreads them in her wide vee. She drives me with her feet resting gently against my legs. Pulls me in with her feet on my ass. I’m steep, shallow, deep, slow, fast, legs spread, legs crossed, hands on the bed, hands on her shoulders. We do reader position with one leg on my shoulder. It’s been too long. My cock plunges through the muff between her split legs. Her lips find mine and we kiss as we fuck. Some breaks for lube, leaving my cock inside, pushing the hard shaft left and right against her walls, flecks of dried River juice peeling from the base as I spread oil on it and dive back in.

“I think I can finish tonight.” The spark of orgasm is faint but growing stronger. “Excellent.” We don’t stop, just fuck and fuck, letting the feeling grow, until I’m coming, slamming into her with each spasm, milking it for all it’s worth. And we’re still fucking and talking as I slowly go soft.

“That was a nice one.” “Very nice. And a nice length.”

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Morning boner with a happy ending

Last night was postponed by mutual agreement. This morning I wake up with a boner. That’s not unusual. What’s unusual is that I feel like putting it to use. Morning boners are often not easy to finish with. And I’ve been having problems finishing lately. But I’ve got a good feeling about this one.

I do the usual spoon on sleeping River with my erection between her legs. When I can’t wait any longer I reach under her ass, probe her flaps and folds until my finger slips into her wet opening I use it to guide my cock into her. River wakes up and pushes back. It goes in slowly. I breathe contentedly while we fuck.

“What are you doing?” “Enjoying myself.” “Me too.” I don’t think that’s quite what she was asking. It’s pretty obvious I’m doing that. But what else am I doing? “I’m exploring the sensations at different depths.” All the way in, a few inches of fuck, back out a bit, another small fuck, all the way to her opening. “That’s a better answer.” Pulling away so that only our parts are touching. Watching the hard shaft of my cock move in and out. I'm doing all of these things. Enjoying myself. And enjoying River.

Spoons has been good today. What’s next? Some brief t-bone, then roll her onto her front and straddle her leg for inviting. Then my legs around both of hers. She follows my lead as we dance. A dance we both know well. Usually. It can be even more fun when we don’t, and we lose our rhythm temporarily or take an unanticipated turn.

Hugging our bodies together. Sitting up. My thumb pressing against her perineum to guide my cock back in when I pull out. River uses the wall to push back. Makes sounds of enjoyment. My good feeling gets better. I could finish his morning, if we can keep this up. She can. I can. I feel it getting closer. It’s a long grind, but a nice grind. This will not be another pointless fuck. Not that they’re ever pointless. Finally I come, my breathing deep and hard, my parts warm and tight and sighing with relief. We clean up and shower.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Something forgotten, something remembered

Strangely, I forgot something from yesterday morning's episode. Something I really like. At some point while we were doing it, we were telling each other our dreams. But like most dreams, they've now slipped away. I don't know why I like talking during sex so much. But I do. Maybe it reminds me of talking while we're holding hands on a walk.

I remember the first time we held hands. I was taking River to see the ballet. I didn't even know how much she enjoys dance. I just lucked out. She was wearing a nice dress, and her heels made her taller than usual. We held hands as we walked from the car to the theater. Maybe I could have expected more from a ballet date, but we were falling in love the old-fashioned way. And I'm glad we did.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Hot cross buns

So here we are Tuesday morning and we’re supposed to have sex. “Do you have a plan?” “No. Do you?” “No.” Ok then. I spoon on River and she puts my mostly limp dick between her legs. “That’s a nice spot.” “Good.” A bit of dry hump and I’m getting hard. Hard enough? Maybe she’ll reach down and put it in. But apparently the next move is mine. Now I have a plan. I don’t want to do a spoon start this morning. I want to start with her legs over mine. I’m toying with a new name for this position: hot cross buns.

I roll her towards me. She knows where we’re going. Her legs fold over mine. She puts it in place. We push together. No backing off. I squeeze. And suddenly it pops through and slides several inches into her pussy. Mmmm. How does that feel so nice. “I’m wet today. Slickery.” I pull all the way out on each stroke to emphasize the smacky sounds. Then I push her legs up to go deeper. “You’re steering me.” “I just do what I like.” “Works for me.” It feels so nice that on some other day I could finish like this. Even though this isn’t usually a finishing position. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish today at all.

I sit up. Knees forward. River on her back. Her legs sticking up in front of me. We get a nice long rhythm going. River pushes against the wall. The steamy scent of her pussy wafts in my direction. I watch my cock disappear between her dark lips again and again. I can almost feel an orgasm building. She tires. I take over, grabbing her hips, pulling her against me. Holding her feet above me and bouncing her ass on the bed in time to our fuck. “That felt nice.” “And smelled nice.” “Glad I could provide you with multisensory stimulation.” “And it looked nice, too.”

We fuck in missionary with her feet on my ass. We fuck in jackknife. We fuck with her legs spread wide. And we hear kids in the hall. River throws the cover over us, but we stay together. False alarm. “Morning sex.”

“I don’t think I can finish.” “How would it be if you could only come when I come?” “You’d have to have a lot more orgasms.”

I roll into our starting position, only on the opposite side. “You’re tickling my g-spot.” Good to know. I speed up a bit. “How’s that?” “Slower was better.” Also good to know. I feel for my cock. Wiggle it up and down. Side to side. She squeezes. “Is it figuring out it’s not going to get to finish?” “Seems like it. But it’s hard to stop.” I rock her legs up and go as deep as I can in this position. “Maybe you can help.” “How?” “By sproinging out of bed.” But I don’t let her. I keep fucking her slickery pussy until she rolls over and abandons my still-hard cock.

“You’re crusty.” “I like it that way.”

Monday, August 15, 2011

River on random

River is surprisingly on board with the schedule; she’s even put our dates on her calendar and reminded me. As if I’d forget. She appreciates knowing what’s coming up since she’s got a lot of studying and school to fit in. She’s read how I like random, including Natasha’s positive comments on having a schedule.

But I still feel like I’m in charge of sex. Because I’m the one who’s always walking over to her desk, picking up the die, and offering it to her to roll. At least she thinks about it. Occasionally. It briefly crosses my mind to just wait for her get us to roll instead of always doing it myself. But that would be as stupid as waiting for her to initiate. That kind of thing never has a happy ending in a relationship.

So I ask her how it’s going for her. “It’s not good or bad yet. We haven’t done it long enough.” “That sounds better than the old way.” “It does?” “The old way definitely wasn’t working for you. You complained about it.” “I did?” Sometimes I think she does have a twin sister who I’m talking with half the time. “Yes, that’s why we’re trying this new way.” “It’s working for you, breaking the rules.” “It was your suggestion to break the rules.” “It was?” She’s definitely the other sister tonight. “Not those particular times, but in general. When we wanted to.”

Now I’m really not sure what’s going on. I guess we do have to keep on it for a while. But I don’t like the resurrection of me being in charge of sex. So, of course, I talk to her about it, making sure she knows that not being in charge of sex is one of the four things that seem to be contributing to my better mood of late. She’ll try to help share the responsibility.

So tonight we roll again. She makes me roll first. “What are we rolling for?” “Tonight.” Believe it or not it’s too soon since the last time for me. Which is why I waited an extra day or two to roll at all. But what are the odds of rolling a one? Five to one. I'll take those odds. I roll. And it’s a one. “Uh oh. I was hoping that wouldn’t happen.” “You’re not going to roll and get what you get?” “Not this time.” So she rolls for tomorrow morning. A six. Since it’s a morning, that means roll again. Another six. Roll again. Six again. Another roll. And it’s a one. Tomorrow morning.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

A convert, or, problem solved

We’ve had a dinner date and a generally nice day. I put divbyzero on the squeezebox and zone out while I wait for River. She gets right on top. Aggressive. I love seeing her above me like that. “I’m not getting any response at all.” To playing with my part. “You’re not supposed to say that.” It must be bad. She’s always so patient and encouraging. I can feel that the valves have closed, but not enough. I reach down and all I can do is laugh at my limp noodle while she flops down next to me.

But I have a plan. Something to get us both going. “I can dive your muff.” “I was thinking of starting with my part.” Her hand drifts to her bush. Her fingers start the circles. She hasn’t said yes or no. But I’m happy to let her get started. Makes my job easier. “Well?” “You can dive.” The big cushion is still beside the bed. I kneel on it, and we get her pussy pulled around to face me. “I hope I’m not smelly. But you’ll probably like it.” She smells like girl. My girl. I do like it. Her scent is going right to my parts.

I’m face-to-face with her flaps and folds. The hood. The lips. The opening. My tongue dips into the dusty tang of her pussy. Then plunges. I work my way up to her clit, circling my tongue on it, feeling the hood slide over it. I hum, looking for the perfect pitch. It’s like a vibrator, she says. I take a few short breaks to dry her off with a shirt. “I’m wondering how long you can do that.” “Quite a while.” I lose track of time doing things I like.

River doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Her body tells me everything. Her pussy moves under my mouth as her hips gyrate. Her fingers are on her nipples. I must be doing something right. And my body reacts to hers. My breathing is heavier. And so is my cock.

“I can finish. It’s not far off.” “Ok.” I’m happy to let her take over. Happy to have gotten her as far as I have. I watch her labia follow her fingers. Slip a finger inside. Feel the familiar ridge at the back, the texture over her pubic bone in front. Two fingers in, pressing her g-spot, circling it, trying to spread them against the inwards force of her walls.

“I’m reacting.” “Good.” I position myself on the few remaining inches at the edge of the bed. Push my hard cock halfway in. Leave her some room. She said it wasn’t far off but she’s taking a while. I hope I haven’t been distracting. “Here it comes.” She takes her hand away and I plow into her. How long I can last with this med slowing me down? How long can she last? She goes crazy as I hammer her, pulling me up onto her, a complete frenzy of fucking, trying not to fall of the bed, how long can we go, holding onto her head, and incredibly after what seems like ages I feel an orgasm and I’m straining and fucking and my come is gushing into her, flooding her, we both feel it, it’s dripping down her crack onto her ass and another wave of orgasm hits her and I’m not sure how it ends but somehow it does.

“Problem solved.” It feels like it’s been a week since I’ve come but really it’s only been four days. And two fucks.

“Do you have another one?” “Maybe. It might be too late though.” It seems like it’s been a long time since her first one. Or one and a half. Orgasm with a bonus at the end. But her hand is back in action. I grin with satisfied envy. “Let me know when it happens.” It doesn’t take long. “Here it is.” But this one is obvious, with her pelvis flicking upwards, one, two, three, four, many. I wish I could feel it with her. But at least I can be with her. She gets her third, but she’s hit her diminishing returns for the night.

“You’re getting really good. You’re making me into a convert. And I don’t say that lightly.” What kind of girl doesn’t like cunnilingus. “I had a really good time. Thanks for helping.” I’m going to sleep with a giant grin that will float above the house and light up the neighborhood.

Friday, August 12, 2011

The problem

“I have to be honest.” Honest is good. “I don’t really like your problem.” River goes on to say that with neither of us having an orgasm it seems kind of pointless and mechanical. Even when she doesn’t come herself, she enjoys my orgasms vicariously and gets satisfaction and closure. Maybe that’s why she’s always so amenable to finishing later when I don’t come. It’s good for her, too.

This gives her more insight into why it bothers me that she doesn’t orgasm very often lately. I don’t get to enjoy her orgasm if she doesn’t have one. And I do enjoy them.

I explain that my take on the problem is entirely different. Last night felt really equitable with neither of us coming. It often bothers me that I get to bang away and hold off and prolong the action and then when I come that’s pretty much the end. Except for the afterfuck. She doesn’t get much say on when we finish. I get a nice orgasm and she gets to drip. Although she does get the vicarious enjoyment.

And now that I’ve been on her side of the fence I totally understand the point she’s often made that she doesn’t have to orgasm to enjoy it. Neither do I. We agree that it’s still intimate and bonding.

But I’m worried. Sex being pointless without orgasms is reminding me of her saying that foreplay-type activities are pointless without fucking. That’s part of what precipitated our long dry spell, a year and a half of no sex, and me hardly looking at River’s hot body. Even though I loved her the whole time.

So I talk to her about it. I always do now. I’ve learned my lessons. At least some of them. And she assures me we’ll have a great sex life even while the problem persists. Even without orgasms. And I tell her I want to give her the most amazingly endless fuck in the orgasm she’s ever had.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Fucked raw

It’s a sweet fuck. It’s a thrashing fuck. It’s everything a fuck should be. Except neither of us comes.

We turn in kind of late. I’m pretty sure we’re going to finish what we started this afternoon. Maybe. We face each other on our sides. Our starting position of old. “How can I facilitate your . . .” Ok. We are. She reaches for my cock. Draws her fingers over it from the base to the tip. Wraps them around the base and gives a firm squeeze. Left-handed. “You’re very talented.” “That’s what I tell everybody.” “At getting me hard.” She tries our side-by-side stick-in. I feel my cock against her fuzz and the soft skin of her labia, but it's hard to tell quite what’s going on. “Is it in?” “Yes.” I give an experimental push. Maybe it is. Something’s got hold of it. “But I can’t bend the right way.” “We’ve done this stick-in sometime this year.” “Well it’s in but it’s not going to get much farther than half an inch.” She convinces me she can’t do the contortion. I swing on top. She rubs my cock against her clit, then slots it into her pussy. I push. “It’s not even working now.” She makes some adjustments and it slides into her. “I was being impenetrable.” And we fuck.

It’s a good erection. She’s got my favorite slippery friction. “I’ve got this urge to say I love you.” “Well?” It usually seems like such a cheesy thing to say while fucking that I rarely do it. It seems to mean “I love fucking you.” But tonight it seems right. So I do. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” We kiss and fuck. Sweet.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish tonight.” Side effect of the new med. “It feels great, but I’m not getting to the point where I can feel my orgasm which is where I usually am while we’re fucking.” An idea. “You can tell us when to end this time. Want to?” “Sure.” I think that will be a first.

The pace picks up. Fast. Hard. I thought we'd done fast and hard before. But this is faster. And harder. And longer. I’m demolishing her. Intensifying, no end in sight, fucking her to smithereens, and she’s enjoying it, her moans should be helping, but no finish tonight, just a nice hard sweaty fuck, until I give out and have to stop. “That really wore me out.” “Me too. I can’t believe you didn’t come.” Silly meds.

We slow down for more sweet. “Remember, you call the ending.” “Ok. Soon. I’m drying out.” “It still feels ok to me.” In all the way one last time. “It’s hard to stop.” “It’s hard for me, too.” “It is?” “When my old friend’s right there.” Poised for reentry. Ready and willing. But we’re through. “You fucked me raw. That hasn’t happened for a while.”

River points out that my difficulty coming raises some interesting possibilities. There might be a visit to the toy store in our near future. I’m kind of looking forward to being her sex machine. Her tool.

We hear voices

River points out that we roll for morning and evening, but not afternoon. Aside from it being problematic to assign a probability to afternoon and do the math, it’s always been part of the plan that we can move a morning or evening session to an afternoon. If we want to.

I watch from behind as she puts on a pair of black panties and a filmy black shirt with nice details. “I wonder how you’d look in a thong.” Why would I suddenly wonder that? I’m really not a thong guy. Maybe for variety. River’s ass would look good in anything. “I might have worn one once.” “Not that I can remember.” “They tend to make girls’ butts look bigger.” “If anybody’s butt could look bigger and still look great, it would be yours. But you know my favorite style. With the strings right here.” I push her shirt aside and surprise, she’s wearing exactly my favorite kind of panties, the dark triangle in front fitting neatly over her bush.

“When you were talking about afternoon earlier, was that a hint?” “Yes.” We were scheduled for this morning but it didn’t seem like the right time to either of us. I’ve got a feeling that this medication is lowering my libido in addition to making it harder to come. But it’s not so low that I’d pass up an afternoon with River.

We’ve both got stuff to do, and we have to clear out the offspring, and it isn’t until about five o’clock that we’ve got an opportunity, thanks to a plan of River’s. I’ve come to realize that she’s pretty reliable when she comes up with a plan. But she reminds me, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.”

Her shirt comes off and her skirt drops to the floor, panties inside. Sunlight streams through the window. She stands in it. Her smooth solid ass is irresistible. As is she. I strip off. My cock lays against her ass crack as I oil her back and rub between her shoulder blades. Transitioning her from schoolwork to fooling around.

I oil her ass. My hands play over her cheeks, apart, together, down her thighs, thumbs catching her vulvar fuzz. The sunlight shining where it usually doesn’t. I keep one hand working on her back while I stroke my cock. “This is the part where you know what’s happening.” “I hope so.” “You hope you know what’s happening? Or you hope it’s happening?” “Both. I must be in the mood.” At least my ability to get an erection hasn’t diminished further. My cock hardens nicely as my thumb probes her pussy, and I contemplate what we’re about to do.

“This seems to be our default stick-in position lately.” “Only after back rubs. You started on top last time. And it wasn’t so long ago that I flipped you over after a back rub for variety.” “Have we done inviting lately?” “You read my mind. If we’d followed the schedule this morning that’s what I was going to suggest.” She bends her knee out. Rolls her juicy ass to a 45-degree angle. Her pussy peeks invitingly from between her legs and pulls me with an irresistible force. I position my hard cock against it. “Right in the invitation.” I push the entire thing in with one long steady thrust until my loins lodge against her ass. “Mmm, nice one.” I get an encouraging string of compliments as we fuck. “Nice grind. Oh, that’s good, keep doing that.” I think she’s taking advantage of my difficulty coming. I hope she is. I’m happy to oblige, giving her the fuck she wants. “I like your lips there. Friendly.” Beyond friendly.

“You look really nice in the sunlight.” Her golden skin. The well-defined relief of her back and ass. “It feels nice, too.” “I feel bad about blocking the light.” “We can do this position the other way.” She starts to roll and ends up in raunchy. I can’t pass up a chance to fuck her in this position, on her front with her legs spread in the daylight. When I’ve had enough I straddle her other leg and she rolls into inviting on her other side, the sunlight warming her body. “You get to do me, and my sister.” Her mythical horny sister. The one I’m always joking about. “Just don’t ask me which of you I like better.”

It’s another nice long fuck with her sister. The friction of her pussy is just right, slightly on the dry side but not too dry. I feel like I could come. But not yet. It’s a nice afternoon. “I like your wiggles.” Helping it go back in when I get greedy and pull out too far. “You look like you could fall asleep.” Eyes closed. Peaceful. “I’m relaxed. I can be relaxed and stimulated at the same time.”

“Maybe we could do this.” Up into low doggy. Of course we can do this. The view of my cock disappearing into her never fails to amaze me. “You should come back as a guy so you can see the view from back here.” “I’ll let you take a picture some time.”

“Is there some air in there?” She queefs around my cock. “How come you can tell and I can’t?” “Because I’ve got about a million nerve endings on that thing. They can tell when there’s air but they can’t tell whether they’re being poked into the right spot.”

It’s a good bang. Watching her surge forward with each thrust. Her cervix looking for a place to hide. “My tits are swinging.” If we’ve got her compact tits swinging that’s really saying something.

Then we hear voices downstairs. The front door is wide open. Our bedroom door is wide open. A friend is bringing our son back from a playdate. And calling River’s name. I’ve never seen her leap out of bed and dress so quickly.

When she comes back she stands over me and gives me the view up her skirt, her furry lips begging for attention. But it’s all over for now. “We can finish tonight.” “If I can finish at all.”

“I think you jumped out of bed and had your skirt and shirt on before you even hit the floor.” “That was funny.”

“Afternoon delight.” “Is that what that song’s about?” “Yeah.” I had no idea. Unlike River, I rarely listen to lyrics. Now that song’s going to be stuck in my head for days.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

A good one

We’re not scheduled for tonight. But all signs point to it. I wait for River in bed. For some reason I’ve left my gray boxer briefs on. Nostalgia maybe. I hear River come through the door. I look. There’s her white t-shirt with the dark square of face on the front. Accented by her dark triangle of bush below. I like it. “I almost asked you to keep your shirt on.” But I didn’t have to. She read my mind. I flip the covers up to display my undergarments as she gets in bed with me.

I run my hand over her firm ass, up her back under her shirt, over her shirt up to her hair. I undulate as we kiss, and start getting a reaction. I hope she’s getting one, too. I grab her and roll her on top. “That’s decisive.” Her pussy settles onto my cock, her lips spread on the fabric, the bump of her clitoris rubbing the shaft through my underwear. We get them off. “There’s something to sit on.” She deftly slips onto my cock and I feel her moist pussy engulf it. I close my eyes as she fucks me, her hands pressing on my chest, then on the wall behind me. I open my eyes, watch her leaning over me, her hungry triangle of bush repeatedly swallowing my cock. “You look strong. And powerful. In control. I like it.” “It’s an illusion.” More tiring than it looks.

She does single point, my favorite, her pussy slipping up and down my cock. She hugs in close, her elbows on the bed supporting her the same way I do when I’m on top. I imagine being River, being fucked by me on top. “I’m not as creative as you.” That's what she thinks. “It’s not so much creative as wearing myself out and having to find a new position. And I’ve got more possibilities.” She sits up. Slapping down hard. Her ass cheeks fitting into the hollows beside my groin. My hands find her nipples through her shirt. Rubbing. Squeezing. She fucks me in single point again. And wears herself out.

She leans back for a break. I take the opportunity to sit up and push her onto her back and take my place on top. And whisper. “I like it when you start on top.” She peels her shirt off as we fuck. There are my favorite tits. My hands take their turn pressing down on her chest while we fuck. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Her legs spread wide. Or her feet on my ass.

My hands move to her shoulders, pinning her beneath me, her legs pulled up to her chest, my cock plunging into her well-positioned pussy. I’m pressing her down hard, fucking her hard, listening to her, and I feel it. She takes all my weight as I come and squeeze my load into her. We don’t separate for a good five minutes. Just talk and relax and afterglow. “That was a good one.” “Yes it was.” Like fucking is supposed to be. Intimate and bonding. Playful and energetic.

“I’m glad you took your first opportunity to come.” “It would have been silly not to.” “I’m glad you could.” “It might have had something to do with holding you down and having my way with you.” “Cool.”

Wanna come home with me?

“What are you doing?” “I could do it like this.” I tug on the front of her shirt. “No, you can’t see it!” Of course I can, what’s she talking about. “It’s beige.” Oh. She unhooks it and pulls it out the sleeve of her shirt. “I was wearing a white shirt so I wore beige.” I don’t get it. What’s the point of wearing a bra if you don’t want people to see it? And what’s the point of having nipples if you don’t want people to see them? The first shopping we ever did together was when I took her out to buy some bras that weren’t beige. Or white either. She’s not even supposed to own beige bras. Much less wear them. But I let her. I must love her.

Now she’s braless under her white girly t-shirt. A picture of Beck on her chest. “Now I have to play Beck. And dance.” Fair enough. She spins up her Beck station on Pandora. And dances. I smile and watch. Wishing, as I have before, that I had a video camera in my tooth. And I dance with her. She’s got the sexy moves. I’ve got . . . I don’t know. We look at each other. Her eyes smolder in my direction. She sexies. We move closer. Looking. Anticipating. Pulling together. Her leg against my crotch. My hand on her ass. “Wanna come home with me?” “Sure.”

Monday, August 8, 2011

Now I understand how River feels

We have a morning date. Before shower? During shower? After shower? A plan forms as I lie in bed. Get up, shower, eat breakfast, get ready to go to work, come back in for our date. Maybe just a quickie. I come back in after I shower. River is awake. Maybe she has a plan. “What’s your plan?” “To be woken up by somebody with a stiffie.” “We missed that by about an hour.” I don’t like taking advantage of morning erections so much anyway. Things work better when I’ve got one for the right reasons. “I’ll be back.” I don’t want her to think I’m upset that we haven’t done it yet, or that I think we’re not going to. I’m not, and I don’t.

I come back after breakfast, strip, and get in bed for a nice long snuggle, pressing my cool body into River’s warmth. We talk. I start to harden. Nice. The way it’s supposed to be. I slide it between her legs from behind, rubbing against the thatch of her vulva, hoping to get even harder. But it just stays like it is. Hard enough for a stick-in. But not a decisive one.

“I feel something stiff.” I feel her doing whatever it is she does. Her legs part. She slips it inside her. She’s juicy this morning. And we fuck. “I’ve got a silly grin back here.” “No sillier than mine.” “What are you grinning about?” “How juicy I am. You never know what you’re going to get.” Sometimes she knows.

We have a nice juicy spoon fuck. Then a nice juicy Reed-on-top fuck. We both watch my cock, pulling out of her, pushing back in, looking nicely long and thick today. Something to feel good about. Her legs spread in her trademark vee. She likes the angle we make. “My sweetie does me in the morning.” No quickie. Long and hard. And sweaty. I might need another shower. But I haven’t reached the point where I feel my orgasm. “I’m beginning to think this new medication makes it harder for me to come.” “The evidence is mounting.”

“I’m getting dry.” “I like how you feel when you’re dry. But not too dry.” She arches onto me and fucks me, feeling suddenly wetter, her labia spreading around my cock as she pushes down onto me, and briefly I feel like I could come. But we can’t sustain it much longer. We stop, I pull out and let my cock spring up, she arches and captures it with her cunt and we fuck some more. “We can finish later. Maybe tonight.” No dice involved. That’s generous. “I’ll help.” “It’s not like I’ve been doing all the work.”

Maybe it’s because I haven’t come that I’m paying more post-coital attention to River. I stroke her bush. Finger her labia. Part them. See them slope down, curving inwards toward the circle of her vagina. The frill. The improbable spot. The place that feels so nice when my cock pushes through. I bring the edges of her lips back together and seal them up.

I feel like she must feel. If it’s usually as hard for her to come as it’s been for me this past week, and she doesn’t even reach the point where she knows she’ll have one if she just keeps going, then I understand why she doesn’t always want to come. No matter which of us does the work. And I also think she’d want to do it more often if she could orgasm more easily. I’m not sure how much sex I’d want to have if I didn’t get a nice orgasm out of it.

Thursday, August 4, 2011


Tonight we both see the shooting star. A good sign, I hope.

I’m sitting out on the balcony at night. Naked. The candle lantern lit. River comes out in a shirt and panties and immediately takes her place on the cushion. “I’m cold. I need a man blanket.” I’m a little slow to figure out that she means me. I walk over and take my place on her. We kiss. I feel a twinge. But I’m not quite ready to start. “I’m waiting for somebody to walk by.” “Pervert.” “I prefer ‘closet exhibitionist’.”

River can’t see over the low balcony wall from her position. But I can. The street is empty. I start anyway. My fingers find her obvious nipples through her thin shirt. “I left the shirt on for you.” “I like that.” Feeling her compact tits, or even just thinking about them, always warms me up. They’re my favorite tits. “I use you to get myself ready.” “I like it when you do that.”

We work her panties down her legs and over her feet. I sit between her spread legs, prepared to get going with no wasted time. I’m almost hard enough. But I want a decisive stick-in. My thumb circles her sticky opening. Moves up to her clit. My cock surges in response. I slip into her easily. Too easily. “Is that all period goo?” “Yes.” More than usual. Quite a quagmire.

River is laid out on the comfortable window cushion. She likes comforable. There’s just a towel between my knees and the wood decking. Comfortable enough for me. I like fucking. But every now and then I have to pull my knees in and join her on the cushion. I’ve noticed before that having her pussy a few inches higher than I’m used to makes a noticeable difference. Like she’s being served to me. Not better or worse, just different. Keeping things interesting.

My balls dangle in the fresh breeze as we fuck. My hands rest on River’s head and shoulder, providing opposition to my thrusts. River watches the sky. I close my eyes. We share a silent laugh when a neighbor comes out, gets in her car, and drives off, oblivious to the quiet sounds of fuck from across the street.

Again it’s not easy to come. Partly because River has an achy uterus and she only lets me go halfway in. We go through a couple positions to increase the friction. We end up in plow. It’s working. Whether it’s the friction, or River’s moans, or the sheer physicality of holding her by the legs while I bang her, I don’t know. But the moans always help. I’m still only going halfway in but my orgasm rushes up. “Almost . . .” My body contorts as I come and resist the instinct to plunge all the way into her.

“I really felt that one.” “What did you feel?” “Twitch twitch, pump pump, squirt squirt.” “I felt that, too.”