River has a somewhat flexible job. Which is not to say she’s a yoga instructor like a certain friend of mine. I can only wish. But flexible enough to come home sometimes during work hours.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? You are? I wish River thought like you.

This morning she leaves for work. “Hopefully I’ll be home for lunch.” “Is that a hint?” “We’ll see.” I try to maintain my optimism. Or maybe it’s my optimism that maintains me.

Shortly before 2 she comes in the back door. “I don’t have to be back at work until 4.” This is sounding good. “So I’m going for a run.” Uh oh. Not so good. “You are sorely lacking in …” “Libido?” “Yep.” Don’t get the wrong impression. It’s all in good fun. Although I can think of better fun.

Watching her strip off and snake into her sport bra and shorts just makes things worse.  Then I realize she’ll be sweaty when she gets back, and that doesn’t help either. There’s just something about a sweaty girl that I like. At least when the girl is River.

“I’m just going for a short run.” That means there’s hope for me yet

Dot dot dot.

She’s back already. I’m not even done writing this post. She skillfully deflects my advances and innuendos with her magic bracelets.

“I’m sweating like a pig.” “Is that a hint?” “No. I have to get dressed and make some phone calls and get back to work.” “So why are you doing so many other things that aren’t on your list?” Maybe she could do me, too. “Luckily for you I don’t just live by my lists.” “I’m not feeling so lucky right now, if you get my meaning.”

She gets it. But it seems the only screwing I’ll be doing this afternoon will to be put the new LED bulbs in the bathroom.

Women Don’t Get Hotel Sex

Women don’t get hotel sex. At least River doesn’t. But I’ve heard she’s not the only woman who doesn’t get it. For some reason, being in a hotel room with River makes me want to have sex with her. Right there right now. Maybe it’s a territorial thing: I’m expanding my territory, or marking it somehow. That fits with hotel sex being (mostly?) a man thing.

River does say “variety is good”. But I guess that doesn’t include variety of location. Like after living here all these years we still haven’t done it in the laundry room. But to be fair we’ve done it everywhere else. Except the kids’ rooms. And the laundry chute. Even the back yard (River’s idea) and the front balcony (mine) say “Reed and River were here”. But she doesn’t get that sexual boost, thrill, jolt, whatever that I get from a hotel room. Or any place away from home.

We’re in San Juan, Puerto Rico. First time for either of us. I’ve never been anywhere in the Caribbean. We’re staying with our kids in the Acacia Boutique Hotel. Something a little special. The rooms she booked have us in a separate room from the kids. We’re just staying here overnight on our way to and from Anguilla. Bookends for our real trip. You’ll be hearing plenty about that.

River says being in San Juan is romantic. So far so good, with the room and the romance. I’m glad she’s getting a romantic vibe from San Juan, even if I’m not. I like a romantic vibe, it helps me a lot, makes me want to fuck, but really all I need is a hotel room. Or some other kind of variety. Or River.

All day long I’ve been staring at the boobs in her sun dress. Her boobs. “Are you wearing a different bra?” “No. Just the hot pink one.” Always a good day when she’s not wearing beige. Beige is the worst bra color ever. Probably the worst color ever. One of those non-colors. “It’s rather . . . effective.” I want to add “if you know what I mean”, but she knows what I mean. And so do you. Suddenly she has cleavage. Not the kind that looks like a butt crack, but the kind where it looks like she has boobs. Which she does. Really small ones. I like them that way. I’m always staring at chicks with small boobs. Like the tall black woman waitressing at E’s Oven while I stared at her. Leaves something to the imagination. Mmm, imagination.

So here we are. We walked a few blocks from our boutique hotel to a place recommended by both the taxi driver and the guy at the desk, and had some delicious Puerto Rican food in a really busy (and loud) place. Walked back. The kids have been sorted into their rooms, and we’ve done our bed-time reading with Brook. Boutique hotel plus separate rooms plus romantic San Juan plus yummy dinner is adding up to some good rumpus. Maybe some sweet rumpus, maybe some raunchy rumpus, but definitely some good rumpus.

So why is River coming to bed with panties on?

She only does that for two reasons.  And it always means not tonight.  The first is shark week. The second is when the kids are having a sleepover at our house and she’s afraid she’ll have to get up in the middle of the night for some reason. She’s always afraid of that, but it never happens. Does that make her crazy? Probably. She does have to get up to pee at night (having kids does that) but the bathroom is right nearby so getting there and back naked should be a non-issue. And she has a robe.

So WTF with the panties? “I just don’t want to sleep naked here.” We’ve been sleeping naked together a long time. I converted her. There’s just something about snuggling with a naked sweetie. Every time I think about it, wondering what that something is, I come to the same conclusion: she’s naked. That says it all.

But I realize we’ve been sleeping naked together so long I’m not remembering the thrill of feeling her through her panties, my hand floating over the fluff of bush pushing the fabric above her skin, slipping my finger through the leg and into her wetness, then sliding them down at the proper time while River lifts her ass off the bed to help. Or I would do it. Tonight.

But I don’t. We’re not only passing up hotel sex, this is a whole new country for us to fuck in. To expand my territory. And we’re not doing it.  Why not?

It comes down to three things. I must be tired. She’s been an exceptionally good girl on our vacation. And my sentimental streak kicks in: it’s strangely satisfying to leave Anguilla in a class by itself. The only island in the Caribbean that we’ve fucked on.

You’ll be hearing more about that.