Thursday, September 29, 2011


Very early in our history—actually in our pre-history before there was an us to have a history—River and I went on a road trip with some mutual friends. They were getting married. River and I were maid of honor and best man, respectively. It was weird. We barely knew each other. Afterwards we knew each other a little better. Not like that. Even though we shared hotel rooms for four nights and even slept in a bed together. It always amuses me that we slept together before we ever, uh, slept together.

Anyway, bride and groom's marriage didn't work out so well. But maid of honor and best man eventually fell in love and here we still are today, making our history together.

So why am I thinking of this? There's the sheer weirdness factor of maid of honor and best man ending up together and outlasting bride and groom relationship-wise. I think about that occasionally. But today there's the issue of cuteness. We've been accused of being cute. And I can't deny it. This afternoon we were talking about what it would have been like if we'd already been sweeties on the road trip and at the wedding. Aside from what would have gone on in the hotel rooms and wherever else. We would have been too fucking cute for anybody to stand us. And everybody would have hated us. But that would have been just too bad.


“Were you expecting something?” I wasn't quick enough on the draw when River bent over to get the washcloth from the floor of the shower. “Yes.” Nice. Except that’s more of a reflection on me. Expecting me to grope. Or something. “Were you expecting, or hoping?” “Yes.” She is Mona Lisa overdrive this morning. I try to resist her teasing ambiguity. It’s not possible. “Were you hoping?” “Yes.” Now I’m hooked. “What were you hoping for?” “Some of this.” She bends over. Wiggles her ass against me. I should be getting harder but the shower is no longer a good place for me. At least she's impressed when she turns around.

We’re not on until next Monday. Looks like we’ve got a bit of a tease going on again. It worked out pretty well last time. “By next Monday you’re going to be begging for it.” (That’s me saying that.) Neither of us thinks we’ll make it to Monday though.

Into the bedroom. River puts on some panties and knocks me back on the bed. Is this a replay of two days ago? She sits up and grinds me. “Are we teasing? Or fucking?” “Teasing.” I can live with that. She sproings off. “Who’s going to be begging for it by Monday?” “Both of us.”

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Magic wand

“Are you grumpy?” “I got over it.” I had to listen to a whiny Brook for a while, then River came back from her girls’ thing with alcohol on her breath. Just wine, but by the time you’re exhaling that stuff it all comes out the same and it brings back things I don’t want to remember. But while River’s been off reading to Brook I’ve been thinking about how she deserves a sweet sweetie and not a sweetie who’s part of her stress problem. Thinking good things. Thinking of all the wonderful things she does, like making dinner tonight, making appointments for the kids, paying bills, being my sweetie.

She undresses, managing to take her shirt and bra off at the same time. I’ve got the magic wand ready for her experiment. But we haven’t seen each other all day and I need a bit of emotional warmup so we snuggle and talk for a while. “I’d like to warm you up first.” “What did you have in mind?” “Muff dive.” I’ve even shaved. “I thought you might.” “But you like hand jobs.” I stroke her silky fur as we talk. Move my fingers and rub lightly over her vulva. Beside her labia. Up to the front. Nestle her clitoris between my fingers. Try to emulate her deep circles. Not too fast at first. I wonder if I’m doing anything for her. We’ve got the magic wand out because her response has been off lately and she wants to see if she can still orgasm at all. She relaxes and closes her eyes. If I’m not warming her up, I’m at least warming myself up.

The magic wand buzzes to life. I sit on the bed next to her, watching her indirect technique. I fondle the inspiration on her chest. In less than a minute I’m hard and she’s laughing. “Did it work?” It couldn’t possibly have. Not that fast. She must be laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing. “Yes.”

She smiles and relaxes. I push my cock into her while her hand goes to her muff. “Let’s see if I can do it the old-fashioned way. The second one is usually easy.” I nudge my cock head barely in and out of her opening while she does the familiar circles on her clit. But she grabs the wand again. “Can you feel that?” “Not so much. I can feel it more when you’re doing it.” But my hard cock parked just inside her pussy feels nice. “I’m thinking a slow fuck in the orgasm.” “Ok.”

Again it doesn’t take long. “Here it is.” I start slow but I can’t control myself, speeding up and banging hard while she has her second. And I have my first. She uses her hand while we keep fucking. When she has her third I fuck her through it, jackknifing her, until I get too aggressive and fall out.

I’m glad she isn’t completely anorgasmic. But her magic wand orgasms never seem quite real to me.

We get under the covers. She’s got that look on her face. Yes, something is stirring under them. “River’s seal of approval.”

Monday, September 26, 2011

Sweetie of the century

At dinner tonight River stepped on one of what we call my bombs. A topic that spins me into the obsessive black gravity of depression that's been a problem for two and a half years now. Afterwards I follow her down to the basement and we talk. We talk about how it sucks to have to avoid my bombs. How impossible it is. How I know she doesn't do it on purpose. Why that particular sequence set me off. How talking about it is my best coping strategy, if she would only let me. About how talking about these things can hurt her. (I hate feeling better at her expense.) About what do we do when it's either bad for her or bad for me.

And this time it's good for both of us. The best conversation like this we've ever had. And we've had a few too many like it.

We can't remember her exact words here. But it was something to the effect of "Sometimes you can be pretty bad. But not today." Did she have to swallow something to say that? I've been somewhat bad. She has every right to say so. "That must have been kind of hard for you to say." "It wasn't." "You're the sweetie of the century." And I tell River how just hours before I'd made a prescient comment about her being the sweetie of the century for putting up with me and improving with me.

She gets a no-strings back rub tonight in appreciation.

"I'm writing a sweetie of the century blog post." "Well that'll get you a kiss." Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. "A nice smooshie kiss. I'll smoosh your face right into mine."

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Near miss

The dice have been extremely insistent that we fuck. I find myself siding with River. They don’t control us.

They say we’re on for tonight. After being on twice yesterday, which worked out to one and a half times. Ok, maybe we’re on. Or maybe we’ll move it out a day. They don’t control us.

We go for a walk. “I have an experiment to try.” She’s so scientific. I’ll bring a lab notebook to record the results. See if we can get them replicated, peer reviewed, and published. “We should get out the magic wand and see if I can have one at all.” She's on the same med as I am. She's been having problems lately. Just when her libido might be picking up.

But wow. The magic wand hasn’t been out for over a year. That thing fucking works. Too well. It’s like taking a sightseeing tour of the Grand Canyon in an F-18. From north to south. It’s over before you even know it started. And the magic wand makes nearby TVs flake out so all the neighbors know you’re using it.

But really, it’s a worthwhile experiment. And brave. With the exception of the “doorgasm”, in which I got her off manually in under a minute while we were standing against a door, it usually takes her quite a while. And she doesn’t always succeed. But when she does, look out. I can’t remember the last time I gave her one. Close, yes. But I always end up letting her take over. I’ve got no ego issues. I want her to enjoy things as much as I do.

So there we are, talking about trampolines and extension cords. Even if we’re not on the same page, we’re at least reading the same book.

I let her study alone until it's about time.

“I’m tired. I just want to go to sleep.” She has closed the book. While I’m still inside it. That hurts. She knows what’s going to happen. It’s happened a thousand times, I hate to say. It doesn’t help that earlier today it was how not to tell me something. Summary: Why does she leave this stuff to the ass-end of the day when she’s often too tired. It’s a matter of scheduling and priority. It hurts being prioritized below random things that happen during the day. This is the year of seize-the-moment, we should have done it when we had the chance. Blah blah blah.

And it turns out she was completely on board with the plan for her experiment until she failed studying because of the stress of her new quarter starting. And maybe some irrational stuff thrown in. I can’t read her mind. She’s never been this stressed about school. She’s confident. And competent. I had no idea. All she said was the usual “I’m too tired”. Suddenly things are different. I’m in “how can I help” mode. “By not making things harder.” Now I’m sorry. But I'm glad I pulled out of my dive. That was a near miss.

This quarter's going to be the toughest yet. But I'm there for her.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Thursday morning date

We walk into the bedroom for our Thursday morning date. Why the bedroom? We never quite know when somebody’s going to show up to work on our ongoing remodel.

River closes the door. “These dates always seem weird,” I say. “And businesslike,” adds River. The dark triangle of bush appears beneath her soft off-white shirt. The weird and businesslike suddenly evaporate for me in her subtle heat. Will she leave it on? She does.

“Is it the right height if I do this?” She bends over with her hands on a chair. When has it not been the right height. But I’m not yet hard enough to stick it in from the rear. I sit on the floor behind her. Her pussy unfolds dark and pink between her strong legs, under the pale globes of her ass cheeks, under her soft white shirt. My tongue probes the slit of her labia. There’s her tangy taste. Helping me get harder. My tongue reaches forward for her clit. It’s a long stretch. Even for me. I can’t sustain the tongue-lashing she deserves. My tongue backs up to her pussy, then I stand and push my hard cock into her. And we fuck.

Easy at first. I look down, between her cheeks, watching my cock pull out until the head appears beneath her delicate asshole, then plunge back in, through the improbable spot, every surface and texture of her cunt joining in a riot of juicy sensation, tingling into me, spreading.

My hands on the front of her legs pull her against me. My legs against hers. Harder. Deeper. She stands on her toes. Lifts her ass higher. Fuck me, it says. My hips thrusting me into her. Her ass melting softly against my skin. Her intensifying moans increasing my own intensity.

Already my knees are weak.

She’s face down on the bed. My hands part her legs. She spreads them for me. Her pussy gapes and glistens between them. Raunchy. I lower my cock until it finds her pink and pump in under her ass. Pull out. Pump in. Fuck her.

I move my leg outside hers. Her ass tilts into inviting. I grind into her, my whole body behind my thrusts, her pussy absorbing my cock, letting go, taking it again. I like to watch. My shaft disappears into her, between her fleshy lips, re-emerging slick with her juices. It’s too much. I have to hold off. A classic hold-off with my cock twitching just inside her, wanting to finish what we’ve started. Patience.

River rolls on top. And fucks me. Her bush swallows my cock repeatedly. She pulls her shirt over her head as she fucks me. Unhooks her bra and frees her tits. I luxuriate in the ecstasy of single point. The crush of her hands on my chest. She rotates to 135. I can’t keep my hand off her ass. Why would I want to. Into reverse cowgirl. (She remembered!) All the way around to face me again. “I have visions of your penis twisting inside me.” Not to worry.

She falls back and pulls me over on top. Time to finish. It takes some long hard fucking in my present situation. Especially since I got dangerously close to the edge earlier. But River doesn’t seem to mind. I think she actually likes my little medication-induced problem. As long as at least one of us orgasms.

I’m grabbing anything I can for extra leverage as I pound her. Her shoulders. Her head. The edge of the bed. It’s working. As long as I don’t wear her out. But she seems indestructible. Good thing because she’s taking a beating.

And finally I come. These problematic orgasms are different. They don’t have the wind-up I’m used to. No water rushing hissing off the beach into the ephemeral calm of ocean before the crash of the next breaker. Not so much like the oft-analogized sneeze. It’s more of a steady build that just goes right on through to orgasm at some point with no clear beginning. I don’t even notice the series of contractions that send my jizz spurting. Just the warm pressure within my body that explodes into paroxysms of agonizing euphoria.

It might just be a matter of technique. I get much the same effect when I pound my way through an orgasm. I prefer the wind-up and clearly delineated spurts. Feeling my jizz spill into River and flow around me.

It’s a long afterfuck. I’m hugging River’s legs up to my chest and we’re both still fucking away as we cool down. It’s like she doesn’t want to stop. Like I never want to stop.

“How come you never want me to wear anything to bed?” “I never think of it.” Ask a silly question. “You looked really good in your shirt. And you took it off at just the right time. You’re good at that.” “I was inspired.”

Friday, September 23, 2011

How not to tell me something

"If you drive my car tomorrow I should warn you about something." Thanks. I think. "There are three bottles of wine in the back." So that's what she does when she "goes shopping". My mom went grocery shopping every two weeks. She goes a couple times a week. "I'm going to a girls' get together thing." What's that? Another name for a girls' drunkfest? She goes on to tell me who's going to be there, where it's at, etc. I can feel my negativity knob slowly turning up. "And is this event scheduled yet?" "It's tomorrow." How am I supposed to find out about stuff? Oh yeah. I either overhear her talking about it on the phone or I check the calendar periodically. Well I haven't heard her talk about it and it's not on the calendar. "I thought I told you." The interrogator in me suggests that isn't consistent with the way she just told me she's going to a girls' whatever-it-is as if I didn't know about it. Here comes the badness. "If you assume you never tell me anything you'll be closer to the truth." "Well I'm telling you now then." When would she have told me if the warning about her car hadn't come up.

I can't stop. Let's find another point to grind on. "But you don't even drink wine." Thanks to her interesting diet. "Maybe I just don't drink at home." Stab through the heart. "But what does it matter?" "I just thought you might want to bring something that you'd enjoy drinking." "Water is my favorite thing to drink, and I'm sure she's got that." So she has to compensate by bringing social lubrication for everybody else? Nice crowd she hangs with.

Here's the rub. I have to be gracious about this. Social River is, to a point, happy River. Happy River is friendly River. Friendly River is, not quite horny River, but at least "I would do it with you tonight" River. (In case you were wondering what this all has to do with fucking.) And truly I'm happy to be gracious about it. I'd want her to do the same for me. And she would.

But that's how not to tell me something.

Sort of

We’re both in bed reading. This is never going to go anywhere. I put my book down. Open River’s new coconut tangerine body butter. I’ll just start with her feet while she’s still reading. But she puts her book down. “What are you going to butter?” “Anything you want.” She gets a full body buttering. Starting with her feet. Up the front. Up the back. Ending with her ass. “I'll have the softest ass in town.” Lucky me.

She knows what I’m doing when I take one hand off her. And put it on myself. Do I have anything tonight? Apparently yes. She turns around to look. I’m happy I’ve got something for her to see. “I forgot we both rolled .” She didn’t know what I was doing back here? It’s kind of funny to surprise her. “I got myself all warmed up.” “I want to sleep.” “You can do that.”

My thumb dips under her ass to her pussy and guides my cock in while we talk. Do we fuck? Depends on what you mean by fucking. “I could just pull back out and we could call it good.” “That would be weird.” But we’re all about weird. Weird is memorable. “It’s hard to stop.” I catch something about going to sleep in this position. I stir things around a bit. She reaches backwards and hugs me closer. Then we roll into spoons and say goodnight. My cock slips backwards inside her as it slowly softens.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The dice have spoken

It was quite a romp on this appointed Thursday morning. Afterward we roll the dice for next time. I roll . River rolls . We look at each other. Somewhat disbelieving. But the dice have spoken. We're on again for this evening. We've intentionally allowed the possibility of a morning and evening on the same day. At least it was intentional on my part. And it's something we do from time to time. But this is the first time we've rolled it. "Maybe." "Maybe."

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

What it's really like

River declined to get on it yesterday. Although she did get naked and rub her parts on my hard cock. I hope that’s just part of the tease. This morning we’re in the shower. “You may have missed the last one ever.” “I can live with that.” “Why do I even bother.” “One wonders.” Is she serious? Am I serious?

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Pure energy

River comes home from a run. Delightfully hot and sweaty. “My old distance feels like a warmup now.” “A warmup, huh?” “I might be able to squeeze in something, and some food, before my appointment.” I start shedding my clothes in the living room. “Upstairs.” I follow her up the stairs, my cock starting to harden in the afternoon air. I hoik her black leggings down over the yellow panties blossoming on her ass. The panties and leggings come off in the bedroom. She slips her sports bra down. “So that’s how you do it.”

She lays her hot sweaty body in classic position on the bed. I take my place between her legs. “I guess I’m wrong. This morning wasn’t the last erection I’ll ever get.” You never know. One of them has to be. “I’ll try to get it nice and hard for you.” “Good.” That should be easy. Afternoon seems like a good time. It’s getting to be a habit. A good habit.

“I want a nice hard one. Nice and decisive.” “All the way in with one push?” “Uh huh.” My thumb circles her clit. Dips into her nicely wet pussy. My cock stands on its own. I aim straight for her vagina. It’s halfway in with one push. But I’m still pushing. River gasps. And it’s all the way in with one long push.

Her sweaty body has cooled in the breeze from the balcony door. I drape myself on her, my warm dry skin against her cool moistness. “You’re clammy.” We’re both smiling, watching her get fucked hard. She doesn’t even have to use the wall. I use her head to smack our bodies together in an energetic fuck. Press her breasts with my hands. Hold her ass off the bed. Put my hands down beside her waist. Lift her legs up in front of me. All the while fucking furiously. And she is wearing me out. I wish I could take up running with her. But I can’t.

“We can hello kitty and you can let me do the work.” She rolls over and sits back on my cock. She can do a lot of work in this position but watching her hair flow onto her back, watching her ass as she works her pussy up and down my cock, listening to her sounds, imagining her face, everthing makes we want to fuck back, and I do, pulling out and slamming back up in time with her bounces.

We take a break for some low doggy. This has been a rather strenuous fuck. A good afternoon fuck.

I pull out and and press the head of my cock against her asshole. “I’m still thinking of this.” “You could probably get away with it.” But I’m having too much fun fucking her pussy. “Today it’s the thought that counts.”

She sits back up, her warm hands on my legs, pushing with her arms to lift herself and fall down onto my cock. Her pace is a sprint to the finish. I reach for her tits, feel her nipples, feel my orgasm. Hope we can keep this up. We can. We do. She knows I’m close. It’s almost too soon when she settles down onto me to grind out my orgasm, but I’m coming, and she’s grinding, and I’m breathing hard and exhausted. She grabs our handy pulsox monitor and puts it on my finger. 129. “I gave you a workout.” “You totally out-fucked me.”

You get what you get

"What? You opened the balcony door and I'm not even dressed yet!" "You don't care." "You're right. Anybody looking in the door deserves what they get. Unless they get you. They don't deserve that."

Monday, September 19, 2011

Movie review

Last night River and I finally watched The Opening of Misty Beethoven together. I’d watched this when she was pregnant with Brook and I had a subscription to a place that was like the netflix of porn. Not because I didn't think her funny shape was extremely beautiful and sexy. It was. She was on bedrest. Which in retrospect may not have been necessary. Oh well. But given a choice between fucking and having a baby girl, baby girl wins. And presumably I'd already had some fucking or I wouldn't be in that situation. So I watched a lot of golden-age stuff and this was one of my favorites. It’s based on Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw.

We’re not scheduled again until Thursday. River has been taking advantage of the situation to tease me. And she likes it. And I like it. It’s like living with her sister full-time. Sort of. More on this later.

So we fire up the movie. We’re watching it now because we’d just been talking about dark movie theaters a few days ago. And this one opens with a dark movie theater.

It’s a bit slow. Porn had a plot back in the golden age. And they are on-location in Rome and a couple other places. And back then the girls used to have some serious thatch. Not as much as the guys. I don’t like hairy guys all that much. Myself, I trim. I’ve tried shaving and waxing but it’s too irritating. My balls shave up nicely, but River prefers them with some fuzz.

Thatch. Yeah. I like it. No bush, no girl I’ve said.

There are an awful lot of blowjobs in this movie. I can’t say that watching blowjobs does a whole lot for me. I can watch a good hand job, but the hand jobs are for the most part not so good. River does much better ones. They’re just jerking the guy’s cock at about 100 miles an hour. “They’re not even paying attention,” says River. Admittedly it’s probably hard to pay attention when you’re doing three guys at once. Two hands and a blow. It’s hard enough for me to pay attention in 69.

And there is thatch. I like it. You get some girl-on-girl bush-licking. Some of it is of the silly porn tongue-flicking type. River critiques the technique: “She’s not even finding her clit.” But there’s a lot of diving right in, getting the face and nose buried in muff like it should be.

And yes, there is thatch. The best scenes involve a nice thatchy snatch descending onto a freshly inserted cock and fucking away. I hate it when they edit out the initial stick-in. This movie has good editing, but there are not enough stick-ins.

At various times throughout I’m reaching over for River, rubbing her tits and nipples, trying to find her clit through her pants, finally just sticking my hand down them and sliding my fingers across her lovely bush until I reach my target. She doesn’t seem to mind, but I’m not getting much of a response out of her. I don’t mind so much though. We’re not on until Thursday.

She has an interesting observation. “I don’t think you’re supposed to watch this whole movie. I think you’re supposed to start fucking sometime.” Never mind that this movie was made for theaters, before home video. “Is that a hint?” “I think I need some viagra.” That can be arranged.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

“I bet you weren’t expecting a marathon.”

Thursday morning was quite a marathon. It’s been a while since we've done one of those. We figured we’d be doing something after River took the kids to school. And we did.

I’ve got a whole pile of Cialis. I don’t use it very often. But with this dice thing we know ahead of time when we’re going to be fucking so it’s easier to schedule the recreational drugs. Even though Cialis is pretty easy to deal with. They say it works for 36 hours. They are wrong. It works for at least 56 hours. And they say don’t expect more than one session out of it. But we’ve used it for up to three. Even though the stuff I have has been expired for a while because like I said I don’t use it very often. I can usually run on sheer River hotness. But not always.

I’m just going to hit the high points here. Imagine this is all accompanied by River moaning “yes” and “nice” the whole time and you’ll have a pretty good idea of how things went.

Round and round. Both directions. Side to side. Front to back.
We’re both playful.
“What do you need for warmup?” “A scratch.”
“Does that hurt you?” “No. Bad design with the juice so far in.”
Legs over.
Jackhammer. A real one outside. River prefers woodpecker.
“I could do this all day.”
T-bone. I can still watch.
River gets on top. Hair in my face. My wild amazon. Breasts. Cunt.
Single point. More single point.
“Reverse cowgirl?” She has to think about it. It must have something to do with her bladder. “Do you need to pee?”
Pee break. She peed before we started. Has it been that long?
My cock juts and waits with patient anticipation.
“You can hello kitty onto that.”
Reach in front for her tits for the full hello kitty experience.
“Pulling your nipples makes me want to come.”
“Now you’re primarily responsible for the thrusting.”
Low doggy.
Hold off twice.
“How much time we got?” “I don’t even know what time it is. Does it matter?”
“I’ve been thinking of this.” My cock against her asshole. “My guts hurt too much.”
Stretches out on her front. It’s especially nice today.
“Nice.” “Yes.”
River wears me out.
Face to face. Foot on the floor. Back on the bed.
Half jackknife. River can watch.
I need a break.
River arches on and fucks me.
Interesting terrain of her g-spot.
Been trying to come.
“It’s working.”
Come and push her back and squeeze and squeeze.
She’s not ready to end?
River's squeeze reflex.

“That was a good Thursday morning fuck. I bet you weren’t expecting a marathon.” “Is your face tingling?”

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Dice for two

I have a new idea for the dice. Plural this time. One for each of us. Seemingly more fair and equitable that way, since we roll at the same time and we're simultaneously responsible for the outcome. And way cuter. I'm all about cute.

For each morning or evening, we each roll one die. If they come up the same, we’re on. If we’re rolling for a morning and they add up to 7, we roll again.

The odds are the same as the previous scheme. But trusting me too much could be dangerous. Work it out for yourself. River did.

We tried it just now. It’s pretty cute. On our third roll we both came up ones. How cool is that.
Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together

A creative crab in the hall

We were supposed to maybe have a reprise of the treehouse this morning, but River pre-empted it with something else. Fortunately I approve of what she’s doing. No backlash. Now we’re trying to figure out when we can squeeze something in today. We’ve got a free half hour in the afternoon. Should be enough.

“I’m thinking the library room floor.” We walk by it. And keep walking. I guess she changed her mind. It is a bit exposed, but only if somebody walks up on the porch and looks through the window. But who would do that? If you can’t fuck on the floor of your own home then where can you do it.

So we head upstairs. I’m fine with that. We stand and kiss. “Maybe the hall?” It’s rather picturesque, with a Chinese runner on the hardwood floor next to a nice wood railing. And it’s one of the few places in our house where we haven’t done it. River raises her arms and I pull her shirt over her head. Unhook her bra and free my favorite small boobs. Slide her pants and panties off. Stand back to admire her sporty body, and the way her bush has filled back in after our wax jobs this summer.

I’m stripped to my boxer briefs. We move into the hall. Hug. Kiss. She rubs against me. I’m stiffening. “When I say I’m getting a reaction, that’s that I’m talking about.” “I like the texture of the cotton, but that needs to be let loose.” She drops my briefs. Stands and slips my cock between her legs, against her crinkly snatch hairs, rubbing back and forth while we stand. Hugging. Kissing. My reflex is to close my eyes, feel her body against mine, my hands on her back, on her ass, fingers sliding between her cheeks. But I force them open, look into her blue eyes in her sweet face, until they close again as I lose myself in her nearness.

“You’re being creative today.” With the standing tease. “Are you going to put your leg up here?” On the railing. “I don’t trust my balance.” She sinks to the floor. I sink with her. We sit facing each other. “There it is.” “There this is?” I finger her pussy while I stroke my cock. “You’re really wet.” “Yes.” She leans back, her hands on the rug behind her, her feet flanking me on the floor, her body suspended. She directs her pussy to my cock. Slips it on. And we fuck.

“We could call this the crab. Not the best name I suppose.” Indeed. I like it anyway. I like the daylight view of her labia licking my cock as they slide off and back on. She goes through a variety of angles, high, low, straight. Asks which is best. The angle that hits her g-spot. But it’s poking her bladder. And she’s wearing herself out.

Me on top. The floor is somewhat hard on my knees. I cross my legs so I can rest on one knee at a time. Hands on her head. Watching my cock stroke into her. And out. And in. She puts one foot up on the railing. One on the opposite wall. But she can’t fuck back quite as effectively on the hard floor.

“Low doggy?” She rotates under me, keeping us connected. Probably the smoothest we’ve ever done it. “She’s talented.” “It takes two.” My fingers move lightly across her skin, hips, ass. I barely notice where we are. I’m up, she’s still low. She could be studying in this position, with a book on the floor in front of her.

My orgasm will happen. These days I tend to just let them happen with they happen. And it happens. She moves on my super-sensitive cock and I gasp. “That’s a good thing.” She fucks me slowly, the ring at the entrance of her cunt tugging at my sensitive head as she almost pulls off me each time then eases back on.

“You were really creative today.” “I was wondering if we were ever going to make up something new.”

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Walk the walk, or, River totally does me on top

“I’m thinking of a plan. The trampoline.” Did she really say that? She must be ovulating. Not that it seems to make much difference to her. What kind of girl doesn’t get horny when she ovulates? Or maybe I’ve got her sister today. Just when I was thinking that outdoor sex season may be winding down this year. But the nice weather has been hanging on. I agree with her plan before she can change her mind. And I’m in a good mood all day.

One of the kids gets an impromptu sleepover guest. That’s usually a death sentence for any kind of action. But part of the deal is they go to sleep at a reasonable time. River is watching out for us. It looks like she doesn’t want her plan to come crashing down around us. Or maybe she’s just watching out for the kids. Probably both. She’s very efficient that way.

The kids decide to camp in the living room. Not ideal. They’re still awake and talking shortly after ten. Of course. “I don’t think we’ll be able to sneak past the kids.” What? Is she pulling the plug on her pleasantly surprising plan? On possibly the last chance we’ll have for naked outdoor sex this summer? Pulling the plug with no warning? After I’ve been looking forward to it all day? I thought she was watching out for our plan. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. Interpreting things the way I wanted to see them. But still if the plan is going to change why wait until the last minute to give me any kind of clue? This is bad. Very bad. I feel the backlash coming on. Even though I know it does more harm than good. That it does no good at all. I’m sure River can feel the impending backlash, too. How can I stop it? I can talk the talk. It’s time to walk the walk. But can I do it.

Yes. This time I've got a support crew. Anisa. And Natasha. Solidarity. I can’t let them down. I have to walk the walk. I can't not do it.

I try the obvious thing. Don’t change the plan. Find a way to make it work. “We don’t have to sneak.” But I can hear the backlash in my voice. “The kids won’t care what we’re doing.” Feel it in my thoughts. I go down and walk through the living room and hang out in the back yard for a while to demonstrate. The kids don’t even notice me. Back upstairs. “I thought you were bringing the cushion up for the balcony.” “That would be hard to explain. I was just showing that we don’t have to sneak.”

It’s not working. I can still feel it.

“Isn’t the aurora supposed to be out tonight?” What is she talking about? “Not from here. Not with a full moon.” Oh wait. Is she doing what I think she’s doing? “Is that an excuse to sneak through the living room?” “Yes.” “It won’t work. They’ll want to come look, too.”

Anisa and Natasha. Walk the walk.

There is silence between us. River breaks it. “I’m not sure what to do.” “Me either. At least I know what not to do. No backlash.” My hand wanders to her bush. My fingers find her clit. I circle it, a nice easy pace, sliding her hood across it. Her wetness smacks below. She drapes her leg over mine for better access. Her hand wanders down to join mine. “Are you taking over?” “I might have one in me.” I let her take over. I reach under her leg for my cock, stroke the top gently while I listen to her pussy, and her moans, and start to get hard.

Her pace is much faster. I count eight circles each time my hand goes down and up on my cock. Then ten. “Is it ok if I fuck you in your second?” We haven’t done come first fuck second for a while. “Yes.” She works hard. And long. I hope she doesn’t wear herself out. I’m just keeping myself hard. Waiting for the proper time. But she’s giving up. She’s now on the same med I am, which can’t help her already difficult response. At least she tried. “Do you have something for me?” “Yes.” A nice hard one.

I start on top. “At least you got a good warm-up.” “Yes, I did.” My cock enters her well-lubricated pussy easily. I get full penetration on the first thrust. And we fuck.

River reaches back for the wall. “I’m going to foil your plan.” I lean back and pull her up on top. She fucks me long and hard. Hugging close, sitting straight up, hands on my chest, my hands pushing against her tits. I’ve never seen her work so hard on top. She’s wild. Unstoppable. And sweet. She fucks me long enough and hard enough. I feel it. “Almost . . .” I come. My hips lift upward into her. I clench and drive into her body as I grab her shoulders and pull her down onto me while my jism pumps. That was incredible. I almost can’t believe she got me off with my impaired response. She’s going to be sore.

The next day we talk. I tell her how I was saved. Good thing. She was preparing an enormous counter-backlash. That’s all I want to hear about it.

Friday, September 9, 2011

A walk

We’re out for a walk. Holding hands. “You’re cute.” “We’re cute.” “So cute that just thinking about it is giving me a reaction.” “Good thing.” “Why don’t we do it in the road?” It’s not like there’s anybody driving on it. I don’t think I’d mind if somebody were doing it in the road. Even if I were trying to drive on it. People do worse things and society tolerates it. “Oh. It would have to be comfortable. I could be on my back.” I get a surprisingly serious answer. “The best position would probably be, I don’t know what to call it, doggy standing up. Maybe braced against somebody’s bumper.” “Or on a hood. But it would have to be a white car on a sunny day like today.” I look around. No white cars. Damn.

So we walk. “There’s a table over there.” In the trees beside the road. “That bench is asking for it. But I’m not that uninhibited yet.” “I might be. Should we find out?”

And we walk. A long, sweet sunny spot kiss. A good one. “That car’s engine is running.” “And it’s white. I think somebody left it there for us.” There is no reason whatsoever to park where that car is parked. Well maybe one reason. “Maybe they’re using it.” “There’s no one in it.” Or on it. “Maybe they’ve found a spot.” And they were in such a hurry they forgot to turn the engine off. “We can ask when they come back.”

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Low doggy day afternoon

We’re on for this evening but we move it up to afternoon. We come home after a walk. “I’m trying to lure you.” I peel and get in bed. A soft breeze blows through the window. River joins me. I undo her bra. Pull it out the sleeve of her gray shirt while admiring her details. Slip her pants and panties off. Try to get hard while she’s off going pee. I’d like to be ready for her when she gets back. But it doesn’t happen. Even with the scenty musk of her vulva on my hand to keep me company.

“Well Mr Man, do you have a plan?” “Stick something of mine into something of yours.” River sits and bends forward for low doggy. Inspiring. I’ve been thinking of anal lately. This is the perfect setup. But I’m still not hard. My fingers probe her soft folds. Into her wetness. “Warm today.” I catch the lighter scent of her juices on my fingers. And it might be hard enough. We try. But it’s not going. “I’ll help.” She spreads her wings wide. I prop my cock up from underneath and squeeze and push. “There’s the juice.”

My cock stiffens nicely as we settle into our rhythm. The view is always breathtaking. River’s ass unfolding from the hem of her gray shirt, flaring smoothly from what looks like an impossibly narrow waist. A waist I grab for counterpoint to my thrusts.

My response feels more normal than it has in weeks. Almost like my old self. I keep myself on the edge, my orgasm hoping to surface as I alternately let it build and hold it off. I sigh, River moans. We’re not in a hurry.

We rarely do just one position. But low doggy is a good one. Good for starting. Good for finishing. I lean foward, lean back, hands on her, hands behind my back, but it’s really all low doggy this afternoon. We’ll finish like we started. And I’m glad my response is back. After being on the edge so long it’s incredible when my orgasm finally breaks through and takes over and I come, a screaming orgasm with no screams.

River squeezes as my cock softens inside her. She always wins. Eventually. I squish out of her and we grab our customary t-shirt from off the floor. It’s a nice treat when I have to change my shirt in the middle of the day.

Monday, September 5, 2011

We squeeze something in

“I’ll judge you by your cover.  You’ve got a nice cover.”  “You can touch my cover.”  I feel her smooth ass.  Right cheek.  Left cheek.  Down the slope to where it curves sharply into the back of her leg.  “I’ll wiggle my cover for you.”  I follow her from the shower to the bedroom.  Is she wiggling?  I hope not.  I don’t notice anything different.  Then it comes out of nowhere.  How does she do that?  Her curves go down her sides, in, out, and around, cradling her amazing ass as it tilts and swings back and forth and finally stops for a wiggle.  I pick my jaw up off the floor, only slightly damaged.  “How do you do that?”  “I’m girly.”  “I want to fuck you.”  “We can probably squeeze something in.”  “If I may be so direct.”  “So erect?”

The day is going by.  “Do you have plan?”  “I was working on one.”  “Did it involve parking the car somewhere?”  “We have access to the hotel swimming pool.”  Now she’s talking.  But I give her an incredulous look.  Does she think we’ll be the only ones there?  Maybe she doesn't care.  “For the kids.”  “Oh.  Right.”

She asks to be buttered.  I can never turn that down.  I request the futon, still opened into a bed in the library.  Right by the front window.  She agrees.  We’re so compatible.

I butter her.  All of her.  I always think I’m taking too long.  Getting her whole body to the smooth consistency that I like.  But she likes it as much as I do.  So it works out well for both of us.

I straddle her.  Her hand grasps my cock.  She knows what to do.  It responds quickly to her touch.  It’s often hard to tear myself away from one of her hand jobs and fuck her, but as good as this one is, I'm burning to feel my cock inside her tonight.  “Am I ready?”  “You’re ready.  I’m ready.  Get that bony thing in.”

We do.  And we have an awesome fuck.  Good thing we remembered to turn the porch light out.  Even though one of these days I swear I'm going to sell tickets.

“I neglected to compliment you for being in fine form last night.”  “Thank you.  You were in fine form too.  I got a little sore.  But I didn’t mind.”

Friday, September 2, 2011

“What was that? Your cherry?”

It’s afternoon.  “I was getting a reaction thinking about you this morning.”  Getting out of bed with my mostly erect cock and flexing it in her direction.  We kiss.  “I’m getting a reaction, too.  I have time.”  “For a quickie?”  A spontaneous, unscheduled quickie.  “It would be silly.”  “We like silly.”  “Yes we do.”  She suggests we go sit somewhere friendly.  The sunny balcony.  I drink tea.  She eats a salad for lunch.

Inside.  The bedroom door is uncharacteristically closed; there’s someone working downstairs.  I pull off River’s shirt and running bra.  It’s a tight fit.  “If these things were any bigger I’d never get this off.”  “Maybe I’ve got a new thing for bondage.”  There are the straps on the floor, hoping night after night to be used.  But this is supposed to be a quickie.  “I’ve got a thing for this.”  I feel her tit, the soft nipple filling the space between my fingers.  I reach around her back for the other one.  “And for this.”  “Yes you do.”

Her black leggings come off.  Her socks stay on.  She’s so cute when she’s stripped to her socks.  We got some stripy thigh socks she’s supposed to wear to bed, and wrap her fuzzy legs around me as my cock slips into the gap between them, but I don’t think she ever has.

My blue shirt and black jeans come off.  My boxer briefs stay on.  For texture.

She sits on the edge of the bed and lies back.  Her pussy perches before me.  Lustily.  I want to taste it.  Run my tongue through the folds.  But this is supposed to be a quickie.  I rub my cock against her through the boxer briefs, the texture gritty against her clit.  I harden.  How to get the boxer briefs off?  It’s not as elegant as me whipping River’s panties up her legs and over my head.  But we get them.  She spreads into her vee.  My cock finds her pussy.  I push.  And push.  There’s an audible pop as my cock finally bursts through.  “What was that?  Your cherry?”  “Yeah.  About time!”

I don’t have much room to work with.  My knees are at the edge of the bed.  But I kind of like it.  Having to figure out what to do when I need to shift my weight to keep going.

I pound hard.  Driving the expressions that race across her face.  Inspiring expresions.  Sometimes I can’t believe she likes this.  I sure like it.  A nice spontaneous fuck with my sweetie.

My orgasm drains me.  Every drop of come squeezed from my body to hers.  I feel better now that I’m coming somewhat more normally.  But what about her?  “When’s the last time you had one?”  “Not too long ago.”  It’s always too long ago.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

“Are you surprising me?”

We were supposed to be on for Monday but we’ve postponed.  River tends to be squeamish about this time of the month.  I’m not so squeamish.  Doing it at a completely infertile time is, along with having the largest penis of any primate, part of us humans’ completely over the top sexuality.  Although for me at least it’s more emotional than physical.  Even though it’s plenty physical too.  But River has been suppressing her squeamish side for me lately.  So if she wants a break for a while, I’m fine with it.  But I do have one thing to say: “I have a job for you.”  “What is it?”  “When you’re ready, surprise me.”  “Ok.”

I was completely tired last night, and sleep in while River takes the kids to school.  I’m still in bed when she gets back.  She gets in with me.  With her clothes on.  “I feel irresistible.  It’s nice.”  I hope it’s as nice for her when she’s irresistible to me, which is nearly always.  She says it is.  “Hey.  Are you surprising me?”  “I could be.  I have time.  But I’m dressed.”  “Undressing you is part of the fun.”  Her shirt comes off quickly.  I’m slipping her pants down.  “I’ve still got my shoes on.”  What?  We don’t even wear shoes in the house.  Much less to bed.  I don’t think shoes are on the long list of things I’ve asked her to wear to bed for me.  But I lose track.  I do like her initiative.  And originality.  “See?”  She sticks her feet out of the covers.  Sure enough.  Shoes.  Now I want to do her with her shoes on, but I’d really like to get her pants off, so I untie her shoes then slip her pants, panties, and socks off.  And give her a nice warm naked snuggle.

My stiffening cock slides into place against her vulva.  “It sure likes being there.”  “It can stay there for a while.”  She’s got her hand there, doing something with it.  I can’t tell exactly what.  It’s a nice sensory overload kind of thing with me pulling back and pushing forward a bit.  “I like being played with.”

“It can go somewhere else.”  “Like here?”  “That feels about right.”  She wiggles.  I squeeze.  She slips onto my cock.  And we fuck in spoons.  Watching my cock glide in and out under her ass cheeks.  She rolls towards me.  “Quarter turn.”  Is she setting up interlock?  No, she folds her legs over mine and rolls towards me some more.  We embrace, pulling ourselves together into a compact space.  And talking.  Like nothing is happening.  Almost.

This time we’re talking about talking.  “I always like talking.”  “I wonder why.”  “I think it’s like talking while we’re holding hands on a walk.  It’s just not right not to talk.”  Even though sitting without the need to talk has been part of our relationship forever.

And we’re talking about doing it.  “I wonder why I like to do this so much?”  “The question is .  .  .”  “Why you don’t like to do this so much.”  “Yeah.  I’m a mammal after all.”  “You’ve got the mammally glands.”  “Yes I do.”  “And you like it now.”  “Yes I do.”  “And I’m supposed to remind you that you like this.”

And we’re talking more about doing it.  “It can seem a little strange, being the male, primarily responsible for the thrusting.”  We talk about the wikipedia page for Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?, with the “minor disturbance” and the “it wasn’t me” look.

And of course all this time we’re also fucking.  Her body bumps towards the head of the bed with each thrust.  “Maybe I can make you hit the wall.”  I bang harder.  She’s getting closer.  She reaches up to feel.  “Almost.”  One more bang and she hits it.

I could almost finish this way.  Wrapped up in a ball with River.  Face to face on our sides.  The scent of River’s well-fucked pussy filling the space between us.  Fancy hug at its finest.  But I move for the top.  “I need to take a pee break.”  Silly girl.  How she’s been doing this with a full bladder I can’t imagine.

She comes back and I start on top.  Expressions flash across her face in quick succession.  Happiness.  Satisfaction.  Playfulness.  Love.  Repeat.  It makes me feel good.  I stir her up.  She reaches for the wall and pushes back.  “Now I’m not primarily responsible.”

We’re fucking hard with me on top.  River’s appreciative sounds and expressions are coaxing my orgasm out of hiding.  She’s good at that.  But should I hold off?  I haven’t for a while.  It’s been difficult enough coming at all on this med.  But I try.  I stop moving, my back arched, my cock pushed into her.  But my parts their own ideas.  I didn’t think I was this close to the edge.  But I’m getting closer despite not meaning too.  It won't stop.  I reach the edge and fall over it, willingly, rushing down as my orgasm rushes up, crashing in the middle, being blown back upwards, and my scrotum tightening and my come shooting into her.

I bring her knees together in front of me for the afterfuck.  Watching my cock disappear under my favorite tuft of bush into the gap between her legs.  “I wish I could feel it get hard inside you and we could do it all over again.”  I get the impression River would like it, too.