Unlimited refills

I’m in a much better mood than I have been for about the last ten days. I was about to text River to tell her then I realized why: we had a great fuck last night. The first one in about ten days. Now I really have to text her. Ok. Just did.

For a long time I’ve said River’s fatal flaw is being too nice, or rather, too accommodating, at her own expense.  But lately it’s being too busy, not having a good work/school/life balance. Which may just be fallout from that first fatal flaw. Because of the imbalance I haven’t been feeling emotionally or physically close in the right ways to want to initiate sex. I’d actually rather support her by letting her get the sleep she needs. Which is ok for while.

We talk about this of course, and she opens up most of a day for family activities which was great. But at the end of the day (literally), I feel like sex would just be something I do to her, sex for sex’s sake, or rather for my sake. I still don’t have the right emotional warmup.

So I think about it, because that’s what I do, and I realize that I haven’t done a back rub for her in a while. Back rubs are great. I love touching and being touched. I love River melting beneath me. Back rubs are good physical and emotional warmup for both of us.

So I let River know that’s what we need, and she agrees. We’re so compatible.

And we have a good back rub followed by a great fuck with an incredible finish.

And the next day I’m in a good mood. Sex is my best antidepressant ever. I want a prescription for it. I want to be able to say, “Look!  My doctor says sex PRN but at least every other day.  Unlimited refills.”

P.S. That would be a fine ending for this post. But I have to add, I wish I had a doctor. Where we live there aren’t enough to go around. Maybe River can get the prescription.

On another planet

My plans never work out. The tracking page for my unboundbox says it has been delivered. I check my porch excitedly.  No box. I double-check. Still nothing. I check the tracking page again. Yep, it says delivered.  WTF. Only then do I notice my box has been delivered to somewhere in North Carolina. I do not live in North Carolina. I don’t even know where North Carolina is. On another planet for all the good it does me. All I know about North Carolina is the capital is named after some English drug pusher. And someone there is having a windfall of a good time with the deliciously obscene contents of my box.

I’m exaggerating in my moment of frustration here. I’m actually pretty good at geography. North Carolina is just above South Carolina. And to the left of East Carolina. But since East Carolina is completely underwater that doesn’t help much.

“The Girls” at unboundbox.com are sincerely apologetic and graciously offer to overnight me a replacement. I let them know they don’t need to go to that expense on my behalf. Three days would actually be ideal timing.

Meanwhile, rest assured that River did indeed “make it up” to me.

Anticipation

It’s been six days. Or four and a half, but that last was a short, but friendly and vigorous, unfinished fuck. So I’m going to say six. River’s had a really hectic last two weeks, what with school, and work, and going out of town twice, not to mention the usual crap. She turned me down last night, but said “I’ll make it up to you.”

So when she comes home from work during the day I think maybe it’s for that quickie we’ve talked about. But no, she’s just here to put on an undershirt because maybe her shirt is too see-through. As if. “You did say you’d make it up to me. Can’t blame me for my eternal hope.” “Well I have to give the world its due first.” Sigh. It’s really disheartening. Fuck the world.  Bad idea.  Fuck me instead.

But here comes my optimism again. I’m wondering what she might come up with as a make up?

I think I can help. Some months ago I was contacted by “The Girls” at unboundbox.com. (To be clear, I’ve neither gotten nor intend to get any kind of compensation for plugging them here or anywhere else, other than a discount on my first order, and the pleasure of having some correspondence with them.) What’s unboundbox.com?  “The Girls” there put together curated boxes of sexual goodies on a quarterly subscription basis. Clicking over to their site, their boxes seem thoughtfully put together and varied. But River would probably roll her eyes at them. Like she does at me, and for the same reason.

Good thing I have a friend who would put a box like that to good use. And she says her partner would be ok with me having an unboundbox sent to her. So I do. It would have been sad to just let that first-order discount burn a hole in my pocket. And “The Girls” are so sweet.

So my friend gets her first box. I’m not even sure quite what’s in it. And what does she say . . . she seems to like it, and tells me the lube was particularly great. I’m sure she’s not telling me everything. Such a tease.

Then she gets her second box. And her response is a bit of a rave. I don’t think she’ll mind if I quote her:

Sweet Baby Jeebus! It all looks deliciously obscene and looking forward to trying ‘stuff’ out… The unbound packages are very well done. Love the wrapping, the contents and also the fact that a % goes to a relevant charity. So cool!

So I respond:

Your micro-review has me wanting to get one for River. So don’t tell me what’s in it. I want to be as surprised as you.

To which she says:

OMG you soooo should!! Xxx

So I do. And that sets the stage for River “making it up” to me.  Because the box comes today.

Why do I call it that

Why do I call it fucking? Some people think that’s not a nice word. I think it’s a very nice word. It’s what River and I do, after all. We fuck.  And it’s very nice.

What about alternatives?  We don’t “have sex”. That just sounds so much like “Hmm. I know I used to have some sex. It was around here somewhere. I wonder where it’s wandered off to?”

And we certainly don’t “make love”. Eew. That’s so 70s. A decade best forgotten. Except for Devo, the Sex Pistols, and the Ramones. And sending people to the moon. And the first microprocessor.

It’s not “making love”.  Even though there’s an extraordinary amount of love involved. The love is already there, we’re not making it. Even though we’re “making it” in another sense of the term. Or is that what “making it” really means? Fuck.

Sometimes we call it “doing it”. When we’re feeling geekish it might be “mating”. Sometimes “being affectionate”. Then there’s “screwing”, but that’s for when we’re feeling extra raunchy.

So most often we call it good ol’ straight up fucking. It’s what we do.

And I hope you do too.

Sweet little fuck, aka meat dildo

River has to leave tomorrow morning. She doesn’t usually leave without a little parting gift. But she’s had a hectic day and she’s totally frazzled. When I’m like that a nice fuck is just what I need. But she’s the complete opposite. It would just be piling on to her non-stop day.

She surprises me by coming over to snuggle on me in bed. “I was hoping you’d do that.” “You must have been hoping pretty loud.” But how far will it go? Is she just snuggling on me because she thinks I expect something, and that I won’t like it if she leaves for a few days without the parting gift? It would be ok. I know she’s frazzled, and I don’t want to make it worse.

“You probably just want to sleep. And I’m stinky.” “Nice come on. Does that work with most girls?” “Most girls don’t just want to sleep.” “That’s what you think.”

Then she pulls out the magic wand. “There’s time for a quickie.” Now the pressure is on. River likes to be fucked in the orgasm. But can I get a good stiffie before she orgasms? Damn ED.

She’s buzzing herself. I’m fingering myself, and touching her body for inspiration. A progress report: “I’m not there yet.” Maybe she’ll have to wait for her second orgasm. “Take your time. I can hold off. And make it even better.” “You don’t hold off very often.” “Usually it takes so long I just have to go with it when it happens.” That’s how it is for me on the antidepressant. I don’t like it.

The thought of River holding off, controlling her orgasm to make it even better, turns me on. I slip a finger into her for her g-spot. My cock stiffens nicely. “I’m ready.” It can be hard to tell when she’s coming, but when she switches the wand off it’s a sure sign. My finger slips out. My cock slips in. And we fuck.

River shudders and moans beneath me as I aim for her g-spot and pound her. It’s going to be quickie for sure because despite the antidepressant I can feel it already. It’s nice how her g-spot is so stimulating for both of us.

But it’s not a normal orgasm for me. The Citalopram is factoring in. It’s achingly slow. It’s like it doesn’t want to come. And even when it does it’s like slow motion, almost painful in a nice super-sensitive way, like I’m drained from coming four times already and there’s nothing left to squeeze out. But I work it for all it’s worth, and River’s enjoyment is infectious.

“That shall be known as the Sweet Little Fuck. I think it will help me sleep.” Interesting. For me it was more like being a meat dildo. But I don’t mind. She should use me like that more often.

Wrong

I often suspect, even accuse, River of not thinking about sex. Even when we’re having it.

Turns out I’m wrong.

We’re in bed last night, our bodies touching in interesting ways. I always like to be touching.

“What are you doing?” “Thinking.” “Can you do something else at the same time?” “I can get my back rubbed.”

She rolls over. I oil up her back and give her a long deep rub, top to bottom, side to side, up her neck. I really love rubbing her back, putting all the attention into it that I can. I get the occasional “mmm” which from River is high praise.

But I’m not entirely altruistic. I’m sitting behind her, my cock resting on her ass, and when I lean forward I get a nice sensation from grinding against her. Just a bit. Don’t want to be too obvious. Not yet.

River has been having a good think while I do her back. It’s hard for me to stop, but I think we’re getting to the next stage. But we haven’t talked about strings. “Now what?” “I’m putty in your hands.” Ok then.

My cock is halfway hard. It’s soon fully erect and as ready as I am. River tilts her ass up and gives her sexy wiggle while my cock inches into her welcoming pussy. And we fuck.

“Are you thinking?” “Yes.” “About what?” “Fucking.”

Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.

Dangerous, a little

I was going to write a redux to this post.  Whatever that is.  I just like the word.  I like thinking about the word.  Maybe I just like red words.  Redux.  Redress.  Reductio ad absurdum.  But I have my redoubts.  A redux.  Something of a postscript here. But what I have to say deserves better.  So I’ve moved it up here, to the top.  A predux.  Here it is:

This was a nice session, physically and emotionally. Sweet but with plenty of raunch factor. River and I can’t have a truly great physical session without the emotional part. I really enjoyed River coming on to me out of the blue during shark week, literally coming out of her blue panties. The it was a real turn-on to have her taking on the challenge, the dual role of getting us both ready, bringing off her first orgasm while attentively jacking my cock hard so we could fuck. I kept thinking, wow, she really wants it, wants me, what a treat, and I’m more than happy to go along for her ride. I hope there’s more where that came from. And then there was Brook’s interjection near the end. The stuff memories are made of.

It’s been over a week of no sex. That’s a long time for me. Like not having sex since the stone age. But, I tend to reach a peak of desire, lust, and horniness after about three days then things taper off and I’m less on edge. It would be so much easier if I didn’t have to live with River running around wither her nipples poking through her shirt, and sleeping naked in bed with me. There’s just something about a naked sweetie.

I brush my teeth and come to bed. River’s on shark week. So she’s wearing panties to bed. It’s sort of a signal. She’s a lot sexier and nicer to snuggle on when she wears some kind of nightie along with them, but it’s not the kind of thing she tends to remember. Sometimes I think being cute hot sexy sweet snuggly is the bane of her existence.

Before I turn out the light I peek under the covers for a quick panty check. Dark blue. Shark week it is.

But then a nice surprise.

“Hi there,” she says as she artfully twines a warm leg around mine. I’m pretty sure she’s coming on to me and it’s not just my eternal wishfully optimistic thinking. But she can’t possibly be into her post-period horny time yet. Which is when we were thinking the first of our once-a-month rendezvous would occur. I’m not gonna argue though.

“Be careful. That might be dangerous.” “Sometimes I like dangerous.” Well. Usually I tell her that I need to write her lines and give her a script, but I can work with that. “I definitely like dangerous.” The panties come off. She’s out of the blue.

She reaches down for my balls and pushes them up alongside my shaft, which at the moment is not very shaft-like. It’s an effective first move, in several ways. It’s so nice not to be doing all the work. Her hand feels great. And she’s got things positioned for a firm rub. “I’m getting some response.” “I wish I could get some response out of you.” “Maybe the wand will.” “Can you do us both at the same time?” “Let’s find out.”

I pick the magic wand up off the floor and hand it to River who switches it on and puts the buzz on her clit. She must be doing the wand left-handed because she’s doing me right-handed. And doing a fine job of it. It doesn’t hurt that I get to think about how she’s doing us both at the same time, which is pure turn-on. I wonder if it’s turning her on as much as it is me. I’m guessing the answer is yes, since playing with my cock and getting me hard seems to do something for her. But maybe it’s just distracting her from her “real” work with her own parts. I hope not.

And wow, she’s coming already. Good thing her attention has gotten me hard enough for the stick-in. I think. She switches off the wand while she comes. I roll towards her, slip my legs under her knees. She reaches down, lines us up, my cock nestles against her pussy opening then pushes into her familiar comfort. And we fuck.

Her orgasm continues as I grab her shoulder for leverage and push hard and deep and steady. Even though it’s shark week River’s pussy doesn’t have that strange slippery feel that it often does at this time of the month. It has a nice soft lusciousness. “You feel surprisingly good tonight.”

In our position it’s easy to finger River’s clit while we fuck. She takes over. Everything, my memory included, blurs as she goes for another one and I angle my cock to slide along the bone at the front of her pussy. “That’s really sweet.” Now she should be writing my lines. I should be saying “It’s meant to be.” And we’re fucking through her second orgasm.

I could come too, but I’m enjoying this too much, as usual. And I’ve got other plans. River lifts her leg over me as I rotate to sit in front of her, never losing our connection. My arm keeps her leg raised in what we call Reader Position because of its effective and memorable use in the movie The Reader. I watch my cock disappear into her shadowy darkness as we both catch our breath.

Brook’s voice from another room breaks the supposed silence. “Be quiet you guys!” “We’re just breathing,” River calls back. “Well stop it!” Will that teach us to fuck with our door closed? Not likely. I like having the door open, and I think River does too. Sometimes she likes dangerous.