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.

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