Popcorn for breakfast

Popcorn for breakfast is a hazard of staying at my parents’ house. It sure is more fun making it when the pot has a glass top. There might even be a metaphor in there somewhere amidst the happy popping kernels. There are other things that seem more fun here for some reason, but I don’t think we’re going to be doing any of that this time even though the parents are away and we’re using their house for a few days. What are our kids going to be doing in a few years, or a few decades, when we’re not at home?

Advertisements

A good commercial

River and I have a morning “date”. We’re about to get to it. But here comes our daughter Brook, opening the bedroom door right on cue. Usually she wants to crawl into bed with us. But this time, she’s on a mission. “Mom, where’s your iPad?” “Upstairs.” “Ok, bye.” “Well, we won’t be seeing her for a while.” “That would make a good commercial.”

Emotional warmup

I call them emotional warmup days. The days when River and I are bound together. Doing the same things. Thinking the same thoughts. Like the today a couple yesterdays ago. We were out prepping the garden. Working together to get the weeds pulled and the warm earth turned over. River being an affectionate tease. Me being . . . me. The perfect day to have a perfect ending.

Will there be a perfect ending? I thought so. Now I’m not sure. “I thought something was going to happen.” “Oh, really?” Well, yeah. We’d talked about finishing what we started last night. River was an affectionate tease. It was a good emotional warmup day. For me, at least. Then I realize: I can make something happen.

I roll on top of River and straddle her. She knows what’s happening. Kiss her. Stretch her nipples between my thumb and finger. She takes over, one hand moving to her breast while I stroke my stiffening cock and watch. Then the other breast. My left hand reaches behind me, feeling the flaps and folds of River’s pussy, down to her wetness, up to her clit. My right hand working my cock the whole time. I like doing both of us. I’m getting surprisingly hard. Possibly a result of not coming last night.

“You’re my always-ready sweetie.” “I’m ready tonight.” “How do you know?” “By how good it feels.” In a rare show of confidence I take my hand off my cock, leaving it to support itself between us, showing it off. My hands return to her compact tits, smearing and pushing them. Her hand grabs my cock. Slides down to the base. It feels nothing like my own hand. It’s so much better. “That’s a bony bone.” “I’ll bone you with it.” “I’d like that.” “Let’s see if you’re ready.”

I’m thinking no-hands stick-in. But River reaches for my cock. Rubs her clit with it. She’s confident, too. And I like being her sex toy. “You can do that as long as you want.” “But I’m greedy.” She dips my cock down, the head lodging in that familiar place. I push, clearing the lips. And we fuck.

The word cunt has been on my mind. I only use that word when I mean it. I mean it now. “Your cunt feels nice today. It’s a cunty cunt.” “Yes, it is.”

River gets the fuck she deserves as I bone her with full long strokes of my hard cock, from her lips, through the improbable spot at her pussy entrance, deep into her cunt. When I come my whole body goes stiff, my legs leave the bed, I’m grabbing her, she’s holding me up with her pubic bone, until I’m spent and fall back limp. There’s not even an afterfuck tonight. I just gasp for breath and slowly soften until I feel her squeeze reflex trying to push me out.

I must be satiated. It’s been days and I haven’t needed to fuck.

I hope it has bad dreams

My laptop just swallowed a bunch of blog ideas I had sitting around. Oh well. They’re probably mostly not worth resurrecting. If that’s true, then I’m (once again!) questioning why I’m in the blog business. Oh yeah, I remember now. Because it’s something I (usually) like to do.

I should have died out long ago

According to my reading of an article in Psychology Today (how many people out there even knew I could read? Surprises abound. And since I’m hanging out in parentheses here, I’ll add that I typically don’t actually read this magazine or any other magazine unless I’m in a waiting room. Hey, parentheses are fun! I should use them more often. Ok, back to the regularly scheduled blog post . . .), I should have died out a long time ago. “Dozing off right after sex provides an evolutionary advantage to men: It shuts down the opportunity for a commitment conversation and increases their chances of reproducing with other mates.” I do not doze off right after sex. I used to go ride my bike for an hour or something. River weighs in: “They make that shit up and print it like it’s true. How can they validate that scientifically?” If anything, I think I have an evolutionary advantage with my penchant for morning and daytime sex, and avoiding the commitment conversation by going out for bike rides afterwards.