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.”