Danger-fucking bad girl

We pulled it off last night. Literally. Why a landing strip should be so cute and hot, I don’t know. “Because it’s different.” “We could dye your bush orange.” “That would work.”

It’s one of those days. I’m waiting for my tip from last night’s waxing, but it’s shaping up to be a day without fucking. Stuff keeps coming up and River has to keep going out and doing things. “I’ll meet you at the end of the day,” I say. At least I’m in a good humor about it this time. But one of these days I want to be somebody’s problem instead of being an anonymous domino at the end of somebody’s solution.

Hey. We might be able to squeeze something in. Even though somebody’s stopping by in a half hour. There’s a cushion on the kitchen floor that’s just begging to be used. “We’ve never done it in this corner of the kitchen.” “You’re starting to sound like me.”

River pulls her pants off. Her pussy winks at me from between her up-stretched legs. I admire last night’s handiwork. Peel my clothes off. There’s a neighbor visible across the alley. She’s probably not thinking that there’s fucking all around. I’m the only one who thinks things like that.

I’m coaxing my cock to hardness while I finger River and we listen to something distorted and electronic. I have to prop my dick up to get the fuck started but I follow the beat and we fuck.

It’s nice hitting it to the beat. I’ve got my hard on now. “It’s been feeling nice lately.” Doesn’t it always feel nice? We kiss. We hug. We fuck. My knee hangs off the cushion and pounds the floor. River rolls into doggy. I watch my cock disappear into her, my freshly trimmed pubes making it look longer and thicker. Hello kitty. I let her do all the work. “I’m watching the trees bounce up and down outside.” “I’m watching your ass bounce up and down inside. You really should see this. You’d see why I want to do it all the time.”

I fuck back, we fuck together, my balls dangle on her feet. Press against her ass and use my hips to work my cock in and out. She likes it. “Does that work for you, too?” “Everything I do works for me. That’s how I know what to do.”

I feel my orgasm gathering. We squeeze together as I come in her. I voice my thought. “Danger-fucking bad girl.” “I like that.”

That didn’t go very well

Well that didn’t go very well. We’ve been having lots of sexy sex lately. Twice in one day, River initiating during her period, a blowjob, on the living room floor. Lots of sexy sex.

I thought we’d have some more today. I was waxing River for an upcoming outing. She was pretty cute when we did the landing strip so that’s what we’re going for. I’ve waxed her with wax before but it’s been kind of messy so this time I wanted to use sugar like I used to good effect on myself some years ago. But I couldn’t find any sugar kits. So I got something called “Honey Wax” from the same company which according to the ingredients looks like sugary stuff.

It didn’t work worth crap. I hadn’t even gotten one side of her bush down to landing strip proportions when we had to stop.

No sexy sex for me this afternoon.

We’ll give it another go with wax this evening. I want some sexy sex.

One of these times

River comes downstairs, holds something small out for me to see, and grins.

“What is it?”

“The tooth fairy already done come and gone.”

“She’s too fast for me.”

“Not always.”

“Is that a hint?”

“I don’t know.”

Regular readers of my little corner of the world (all four of you) know that I’ve had this long-standing fantasy of catching the tooth fairy in the act and having my way with her in exchange for preserving her anonymity. I guess I’ve still got a few years before our kids lose all their teeth. If her cover hasn’t been blown by then.


River was happy to be caught up on her homework and hinted that something might happen in the evening and advised me to be hydrated. I went to bed and read and eventually turned the light out. A half hour after going to bed I wonder where River is and find her upstairs studying. I must have made the wrong assumption. And I forgot, River doesn’t hint. Apparently she wanted to get some more studying in. I suggest she do it afterwards next time. We stay up talking about crap again.

The flu

Is the flu an STD? We’re about to find out.

Three hours later. Well, we tried. River was gone for hours, ostensibly at the physical therapist’s. Hopefully they were working on kegels. She’d given me quite a warmup in the bathroom earlier today, me sitting on the heated floor, her standing over me and doing a reverse striptease while my cock wanted to get hard and she told me she had plans for later.

But how much later? Not this evening when we’re both worn out, I hope.

She comes home. Can I jump her? If I want. I want. I think.

In the bathroom again. Grinding against her ass, cradled in my favorite comfy jeans. Watching ourselves in the mirror. Unbuttoning her comfy jeans. Unzipping. Off. Then mine. My cock hardening. My hands running over her body. Her breasts, behind their padded bra. Her sides. Her stomach. Into her panties. They’re off. My boxer briefs are off. Watching. Feeling. Pressing. Breathing.

River leans into the mirror, looking hot, looking sweet, her ass thrust back seductively, my fingers playing in the juice of her slit. But it’s not happening. I’m nowhere near hard enough for the standing rear-entry stick-in.

“Should we try later?” “I don’t know.” I feel unvirile. But I can’t let it get to me. “You can throw me on the bed.” “Let’s try it.”

My finger slips into her wetness. She talks about viruses. That’s usually a good combination, but if we can fuck at all this afternoon it’s going to be a limp dick fuck.

And so it is. It’s a bit silly trying to squeeze my mostly limp dick in and out of her as she spreads her legs wide in her trademark vee, but at least we’re trying. My cock perks up a little bit, but not much. Not enough to get the true feeling of fuck. At least we’ve had a nice time together. I close her lips over her wetly gaping pussy. We plan to resume in the evening.

River says flu isn’t an STD because it’s all about oropharynx, not vagina. Maybe via blowjob then.

Dee Ess Tee

Daylight Saving Time has never messed us up as badly as it recently did. On Sunday I told River I had a nice plan that involved a mutual bath. I didn’t say anything else, but she knows what I mean by plan. All indications were that she’d be a willing participant.

She comes down from Brook’s room around 10 (formerly known as 9) and I bring up the plan. I’m not sure what all she says. I can only remember two words: “Well, actually . . .”. And I really laid it on her. To me those words made it seem that everything she’d said before was a bunch of crap to be henceforth ignored and if possible forgotten, while everything she was about to say was the actual truth that she should have said earlier. In the back of my mind I knew things would spiral out of control and they did. It’s a combination of River taking things too seriously, and me not taking things seriously enough.

No, I can remember more. Part of the “actually” was that it had gotten rather late. That old excuse/reason again. As if she hadn’t noticed everything was an hour later when she changed the kitchen clocks.

So that plan died a horrible death. Somehow we can always stay up later talking about horrible crap, but stay up later to have a nice time? Not so easy. Note to self: don’t give negativity so much influence.

We both came around and we snuggled our way to sleep.

The next day DST was still messing us up, but that’s a different story.

Sunny spots

When River and I go for walks, we almost always stop for a nice full-body-plaster kiss in a sunny spot. If it’s not sunny, we make our own sunny spot.

There were a lot of sunny spots on today’s walk.

When I started this blog, didn’t I say I wished I’d done more outtakes? Here you go. We’re walking past a rock sculpture in the park. A nice sunny spot. There’s a guy raking the ground nearby. I want to push River up against a large boulder and plaster myself to her and smooch her good. I grab her hand and start heading across the grass with her. She’s unsteady on the soggy ground. “Is it too soggy?” We turn around and walk the few steps back to the path. Missed opportunities can still make me sad, even though I look on the bright side: it was a record-setting sunny spot walk on a romantic day. “What better compliment could there have been for rake guy than to have his nicely raked ground used for a nice sunny-spot kiss?” “Actually I was worried I might puke all over his nicely raked ground.” “Oh.”