A kiss and a thought

My morning erection draws my attention. I open my eyes and glance over at River, asleep on her back. Dreaming. At my touch, she rolls onto her side. Perfect. I spoon onto her, slipping my erection under the fuzz between her legs.

I imagine her spooning me. Like she did when we fell asleep last night. Imagine her with an erection throbbing between my legs. So near to its evolutionary goal. I have a good imagination. But what can’t I imagine? Not scooping it into me with a wiggle. Not pressing back against it. Not letting it spread me and fill me. Not fucking it and making it come inside me. I can’t imagine not doing that.

River gets up to pee. I’m still hard when she returns. Her soft warmth has become a silky cool. My erection returns to its resting place between her legs. It perks to the occasional scratch of her muff. I swallow. Something I do when I think what I’m thinking now. Thoughts of fucking making my mouth water. Has River ever noticed? My mind drifts back into sleep. My erection subsides.

I leave to pee. And return. Straddle River. Her under the covers. Me above them. I kiss her. Feel her body supporting mine. She kisses back. We kiss. My cock stirs. This is how it’s supposed to work. I rest, my head beside hers, and breathe. We’re not on until Monday. But we know we won’t make it. The pressure in my cock rises as my thoughts focus. A kiss and a thought. I’m fully erect. Forget Monday. There’s a moment to seize.

I pull the covers off her smooth body. My eyes linger on the suppleness of my favorite small tits. I slip my left leg between hers the way I do so often. She unfolds for me. She knows our dance. My right leg enters the gap. My cock rides up her vulva, my shaft finding her clit. Her hips move in counterpoint to mine as our parts rub together, tilting upwards as my glans slides down her labia and nears her pussy opening. Is she begging for it? I can hope. I tease. Push back up to her clit. Back down to her opening. Make her beg.

(I’m skipping the somewhat embarrassing part where I go for the no-hands stick-in and don’t realize I’ve missed until River says “try more towards the front.” “Where was it?” “In a comfy pocket between my butthole and the sheet. It must have felt nice.” “It did.” Every now and then I think this blog should have outtakes. This would definitely be one of them.)

I push into her pussy. Into her juice. Lots of juice. Maybe too much. I prefer her frictiony slippery. Good thing I’m on top.

I cross my legs in missionary. The two-speed stroke I learned from River, with the firm push at the end. River’s feet pull my ass in encouragingly. I’m expecting cervix but not finding it. Back to default. Reduce the depth. Increase the speed. Brush the tip of my tongue across a nipple. It firms up, defying my probing tongue. And begging for it. I put my lips on her tit, pull the nipple into my mouth, rub my tongue along the tip while I suck it. And maintain the rhythm of fuck. I should be getting dangerously close to the edge, the good part of the good part, but my latest “problem” has turned me into a fucking machine.

I suck her other nipple into my mouth. Feel it slip in and out between my lips. Feel it harden against my tongue. And feel my orgasm.

This one has my old wind-up. My old friend. I savor it. Let the pressure of the electric lemons build until it collapses and shoots my jizz into her with the familiar forceful pulses. One. Two. Three. Four. River feels it. Five. My breath shudders with each one and I squeeze further into her to sustain it.

We stay connected, her legs in the air before me, together, her vulva peering slyly through them, my cock still penetrating into the gap.

“I had to seize the moment.”

“We made a wet spot.” That’s unusual for us. I like it. She was juicy today. Almost too juicy.