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.