Is that a quickie?

I follow up on River’s innuendo earlier in the day. At least I hope it was innuendo. Maybe it was just a friendly feel.

“Can I bang you tonight?”
“Sure. But . . . can it be a quickie? I’m kind of tired.”
“Uuuh . . . I guess I could do that.”
“You make it sound like a chore.”
“It’s early.”
“Says who?”
“You. And besides, you’ve said less than 20 minutes isn’t worth it.”
“I can’t imagine saying that.”
“Well you did. Or maybe it was your sister.”
“I like a quickie as much as the next girl. Have I ever complained about a quickie?”

She’s got a point there. I’ve been stroking myself, feeling my favorite tits, and getting hard while we’ve been talking. As usual, River prefers to skip the warmup and get right to it. Quickie-style. I sit between her legs, rub her clit, put the tip of my cock in, then grab her legs and pull her towards me, sliding her onto my cock. “I’m being manhandled.” Like she likes. And we fuck.

Today I’m trying to stop writing there but I had a quite extraordinary orgasm. River was arching her back, pushing against the wall, fucking herself onto me. When I came we kept going, especially her. She does that sometimes, I think just to see what I’ll do, how I’ll react when my spurting cock goes supersensitive. This time it almost hurts but I don’t want it to end. When we first met I used to be more vocal about orgasms then I quieted down to match her but I’ve been getting louder again and this time I really let loose. She seems to like my “aaaaauuuus” and “nnnnnngs”, knowing she can do that to me. And it’s cute, she says.

“How long was that? I didn’t look at the clock.” I never look at the clock either, but I happen to know approximately when we started because I did look at it earlier when I made my “It’s early” pronouncement. “10 or 15 minutes.” Is that a quickie?

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