Valentine’s day

It’s Valentine’s day. River has a plan for a romantic picnic. I used to be romantic. Used to walk by her work on nice days and take her out to urban picnics in the park. I wonder what happened to me. Today she’s toasting tuna sandwiches with melted cheese, putting carrots and raisins and sweet potato chips and yummy strawberries in bowls. And something fizzy to drink. Not champagne. Canada Dry. What we call burp drink. We’re having a picnic in our living room in front of the gas fire in the afternoon. I put on some classical guitar music. It’s a clear day outside. It’s romantic.

She’s got on her soft sexy sweater dress. I’m guessing that’s all she’s got on. She’s definitely braless. The dress conforms to her shape in just the right way. I hope it feels as nice to her as she looks to me.

“I forgot one of the bowls.” “I’ll get it. What’s in it?” “Chocolate.” That’s important.

The sandwiches are delicious. The carrots are crunchy. The raisins are sweet. We take turns biting strawberries and grabbing smoochies. The chocolate is divine.

I’ve had glimpses. She’s not wearing anything underneath. I slide my hand up her thigh and park it on the outside of her ass cheek.

“You won’t want to hear this. I have to pick up the kids in eight minutes.” “That’s enough time.” “For what?” “To bang you in the living room.” “This strawberry has a petal on it. That’s cute.” “You’ve got petals, too.”

My fingers find her petals as she lies on her back in the classic position. I pull my clothes off. I’m halfway hard already.

She reaches down and stirs her clit. Is her wiring reconnected? Does she have one in her? My cock hardens fully as I watch her lips follow her circling fingers. I push a thumb against her opening, and a knuckle against her perineum. “I’m trying fast today.” “Am I distracting you?” “No.”

Anybody walking up on the porch will get a nice view of River fanning her fur while I sit between her legs with my erect cock in hand. The mail and UPS have already come. That just leaves neighbors and contractors. I don’t mind.

Surprisingly, it only takes a few minutes before she says “here it comes” and I move forward, position my cock, and push into her. It takes a few strokes for full lubrication then I’m fucking her in her orgasm like crazy, hard and fast, then slowing down and giving a hard push at the end of each stroke. Her orgasm keeps going and going. I feel one, too. I’m going to get it. I maximize the feeling of fuck for myself, which usually seems to do it for her, too. “My turn.” “Yes.” I bore into her as I come, hugging her, squeezing on her shoulders, almost hoping somebody is watching.

“When you fuck me in the orgasm they just keep coming. Again, and again, and again.” “That was a good Valentine’s surprise.” “And a speed record.” “For who?” “Both of us together.”

River’s recipe for good sex: chocolate, strawberries, fire, painting, and love.

She puts on panties, drip protection, leggings, and goes to get the kids.


Dressing room?

“You’re a bad boy. Would you really do it in a dressing room?” “Well, yeah.” Who wouldn’t? “People aren’t as unobservant as you seem to think they are.” They’re not? So what?

We’ve been shopping at the mall. We’re both trying on clothes at the Gap. “Can we go in together?” I can’t believe she asked the salesperson that. I’m actually a bit flustered. “Sure, you can even have the big room at the end.” It is big. And the door goes all the way to the floor. It doesn’t go all the way to the ceiling but it has a deadbolt lock. I take a few pictures of River with my crappy cell phone but they don’t turn out well. I’m having body image problems and she’s trying to convince me everybody looks like crap in dressing rooms. Then why does she look so good?

At the next shop we’re looking for stuff for her. She goes into the dressing room by herself, then comes out and pulls me in with her. “Is that a hint?” “No.” She tries on some pants, makes me look at her butt in them, then pulls her panties down, waggles her ass at me for a second, and pulls them back up. How can I not want to do it. I want to squeeze my cock into her, right between her dark, fleshy lips, and fuck her. Stupid ED. I’m not remotely hard. “Is everything ok? Do you need another size?” No thanks, River is a very nice size.

And we’re leaving. Two seize-the-moment opportunities lost. “That might be about as close as I get to doing it in a dressing room.” That’s River talking. “I probably wouldn’t finish.” That’s me. “How long?” “Fifteen seconds?” Sounds like that might be too long for her. “Five seconds? In and out? Long enough to say we did it.” “If things were less busy, and the salespeople were less attentive, I might do it in a dressing room.” I smile. Just like River always says, there will be more opportunities to seize the moment. “Would you blog about it?” “Probably. Unless you didn’t want me to.” She might not.

Crappy little cell phone

River called today. I’ve got a crappy little cell phone but at least I know how to make calls and take pictures with it. I kind of like the aesthetic of the crappy cell phone pictures some times, especially when done lomography-style. I can even answer calls with it, especially from River. And I’ve even managed to give her her own special ring on my crappy little phone, but today my phone is on buzz. I don’t ususally answer buzz, but I do when it’s River.

“I want to fuck you later today.” I’m glad I answered. “I’m in an elevator.” I like the association of elevators and fucking. “Is anyone else in it?” “No.” “Too bad.” I’d love to be in an elevator with someone telling her sweetie she wants to fuck him later.

But I want to fuck her now.

I got to have sex and you didn’t

“I got to have sex last night and you didn’t.” That doesn’t really seem fair, but I guess it works out. I get to fuck, she gets to sleep. It seems more than fair, with each of us getting to do something we like.

I did my typical 2am insomniac wake-up and wishing I could do River in the middle of the night. She’s recently given me permission for that as long as she doesn’t have to wake up early the next day. I love fucking in the half-asleep state. The amplification of the feelings, both emotional and physical, can make me feel like I’m going to pass out from pleasure. Even if in reality I’m just falling asleep. Reality doesn’t matter in dreams.

But I wasn’t getting hard enough at 2am and River was facing the wrong way for a proper snuggle and stick-in, so I got out of bed to do some other insomniac things like checking my email and writing. Fucking insomnia, feeding my compulsions.

For most of our relationship River has been the insomniac and I didn’t understand it. I still don’t understand it even though it happens to me now. Now it’s River who can fall asleep, and back asleep, in minutes while I can take hours.

When I come back to bed in an hour she’s facing the right way to snuggle but now I’m tired and fall asleep. I think.

But an erection wakes me up at 5am. I stick it between her legs from behind and let it ride against her vulva. She gets up to pee and as usual starts some gentle snoring a few minutes later while I periodically rub my cock against her bush to keep it hard and fall half asleep. I don’t need to fuck. Feeling my hard cock against her is enough.

Somehow my mind has changed. I work a finger between her lips. Slide the tip of my cock into her wetness. Push. Feel her push back. And start a gentle fuck to the rhythm of her breathing as she snores and I pass out from pleasure.

A hammer bangs downstairs

River comes home and we shower. We hear somebody come into the house. The contractor doing some work on the kitchen. A year ago, that would have been the death of the interlude we’ve got planned. But instead of canceling it, River suggests we use her studio upstairs.

We look at some of her paintings. “I’ve got an idea for fixing this one. I bet you won’t mind if I paint naked.” Mind? It’s one of my fantasies. One she’s indulged several times. She peels and paints. My pants come off and I sit on the futon. I’d like to be hard for her when she’s ready. I watch her ass as she stabilizes her body in different positions for painting, and stroke my stiffening cock. I’ll be ready.

She finishes up. Comes over to the futon. Faces me. Straddles me. Positions my cock against her pussy. Works her way onto it. And we fuck. Her legs on the futon. Her feet on the futon. My hands on her ass. On her back. Her waist. Her tits. She’s got some nice action going today. “I think painting is a good warmup.” So is watching her paint.

River spins around on my cock and fucks me with her feet on the floor, then reaches back for my hands, manages to pull us into a standing position, and bends over until she’s practically folded in half. My cock is still inside her. I know what to do. Pound in hard. A hammer bangs downstairs while we bang upstairs. “Careful with the cervix today.” I’m still forceful but don’t hit it as deep. “That’s perfect.”

“I’ve got one in me.” “You should take it. You know what happens when you don’t.” My orgasm explodes into her. It’s hard to stand. River squirms her ass against me while I come, trying not to be too loud about it. She stands up in front of me. I reach around for her breasts and pull our bodies together. We’re still fucking. I like the feel of her ass pushed against me.

“We should do that more often.” I can hardly believe she said that. But she’s really been liking the daytime fucks lately. “You should tell your sister that.” “My sister’s kind of slutty. She’s not allowed in my studio. Uh oh, did you hear that?” she asks the contractor.

Hopefully more tonight

River and I go out to lunch today. “Didn’t you promise me a back rub a while back?” Well yeah, she can get a back rub just about any time she wants. I love touching her. We think about why she didn’t get one. Maybe she was too tired. No, that doesn’t make sense. “I was too cold.” That’s it. I put my hand on her back in the restaurant. She purrs. She wants more of that when we get home.

“Should we turn on the stove in the bedroom?” “I’d rather have it as a reward for doing my homework.” “That’s fine.”

Four hours later she hasn’t claimed it. I’m not feeling good about that. “Well I had all this stuff I had to do.” “Had to do.” She could have told me earlier, instead of letting me assume and sit here for hours. Or I could have asked, but it just seemed implied by the way she said it that it wouldn’t be too long. Still, assumptions often get me in trouble and I’m trying to learn to avoid them. “There was a bunch of other stuff I forgot about.” “So I’m just one more thing in the big pile of stuff you forgot about.” That doesn’t make me feel good. “Well don’t you forget about stuff?” “Of course I do. And I probably upset people. And I probably apologize.” “Apologies are good.” Then why doesn’t she do it.

“We’ve got 15 minutes until I have to pick up Brook.” “You should do your reading or one of those other things you have to do, and we can save it for tonight.” My problem is that she said it was something she wanted, but it seems like she’s trying to squeeze it in like something I want (which I do), and I’m supposed to be grateful.

“I want it because my back is all achy.” There we go. That melts me. I don’t feel cast aside and taken for granted anymore. I feel wanted and needed. River gets 15 minutes of back rub. And hopefully more tonight.