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.”