If it’s too loud, you’re too old

River is out of town.  I get an email from her.  “I passed my test!  I might have screamed!”  And I write back: “At least something makes you scream :-).”

Because just a few nights ago, she had her first orgasm ever from pure penetrative sex.  Actually, two in a row.  She’s always needed some kind of manual or mechanical clitoral stimulation.  And there she is having her first pure penetrative orgasm, and her second, and she doesn’t make a sound.  Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.  Not in happy shock, not in crazy surprise, not even because it’s so amazing she wants the neighbors to know.  So I have no idea until we pause while I barely hold off and she says “I just came twice while we were doing it.”  Total stealth orgasms.  That’s her style.

It took some getting used to.  One partner I’d had set the bar pretty high for screaming, and gave me a taste for it.  And she inspired me to make a lot of noise myself.  But I ended up toning it down with River because I felt out of place with her being so quiet most of the time.

But I still  like it loud.

Although lately it seems like if we so much as breathe hard, Brook will be banging on our shared wall.  “We’re just breathing.”  “Well stop it!”  She didn’t do that when she was little.  She’s too old.

Out of town

River will be out of town for a while. That’s not so good, not the least reason being that I’m already horny. Last night I noticed she had her new G-spot vibrator charging and I thought maybe she was taking it with her, which would be a good thing. She said no, but it wasn’t charged last time she wanted it so she wanted to make sure it was charged. And I take that as a good thing.  Also good that she wants me to use it on her.  There’s no way I could ever use the magic wand on her.  No way.  That thing is just too vigorous.  And I’m more about finesse.

How she can leave without giving me  little something to tide me over I’ll never understand.  Too much business before pleasure.  I’m always thinking, give yourself time for both.  But she’s also going to school, and with business, school, and family all vying for her attention she seems to forget to leave time for pleasure.  She says I’m in charge of sex but really she is, because she’s the one who can always say maybe later.

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.

Unlimited refills

I’m in a much better mood than I have been for about the last ten days. I was about to text River to tell her then I realized why: we had a great fuck last night. The first one in about ten days. Now I really have to text her. Ok. Just did.

For a long time I’ve said River’s fatal flaw is being too nice, or rather, too accommodating, at her own expense.  But lately it’s being too busy, not having a good work/school/life balance. Which may just be fallout from that first fatal flaw. Because of the imbalance I haven’t been feeling emotionally or physically close in the right ways to want to initiate sex. I’d actually rather support her by letting her get the sleep she needs. Which is ok for while.

We talk about this of course, and she opens up most of a day for family activities which was great. But at the end of the day (literally), I feel like sex would just be something I do to her, sex for sex’s sake, or rather for my sake. I still don’t have the right emotional warmup.

So I think about it, because that’s what I do, and I realize that I haven’t done a back rub for her in a while. Back rubs are great. I love touching and being touched. I love River melting beneath me. Back rubs are good physical and emotional warmup for both of us.

So I let River know that’s what we need, and she agrees. We’re so compatible.

And we have a good back rub followed by a great fuck with an incredible finish.

And the next day I’m in a good mood. Sex is my best antidepressant ever. I want a prescription for it. I want to be able to say, “Look!  My doctor says sex PRN but at least every other day.  Unlimited refills.”

P.S. That would be a fine ending for this post. But I have to add, I wish I had a doctor. Where we live there aren’t enough to go around. Maybe River can get the prescription.

What to do

For a while I’ve been wondering what to do here. I still am. It’s not like I’m out of ideas. I’ve got ideas. I’ve even written some of them. But haven’t posted them. At least not yet.

River has gotten increasingly asexual. I understand and relate to that by thinking about my own asocial tendencies. Not antisocial. Asocial. There’s a limit to how much social I can take, but I do like it every now and then and even miss it when I haven’t been social for a while. But I don’t think about it much. And I don’t seek it out.

And that’s how River is with sex. Doesn’t think about it, doesn’t seek it out, can’t take too much of it, but definitely enjoys it when it happens in moderation, both the sex itself and the connection it gives us.

I was going to write more but I’ll stop there for now, even though I’ve got a lot of words rattling around in my head that want to come out.

Ok, I’ll let some words out. We’ve decided to cut back from every three days or so to maybe once a month, or whenever River feels the urge. That’s one of my ways of showing River I love her.

This is not going to be one of those situations where the man or woman says fuck it, I’m not going to initiate, I’m going to wait until my partner comes to me. If ever. I’ve read people who write about stuff like that. Their relationship is already lost and they can’t even talk about it. Waiting for your partner is not going to fix anything. It’s a recipe for disaster, and the dish has already been cooked.

River and I talk. Our relationship is good. Our plan is mutual. Never mind that we’ve made the same once-a-month or whenever plan many times before and I haven’t been able to stick with it. Snuggling with River every night without sex isn’t easy. It’s like foreplay for me. But not for her, she says.

We had a great fuck last night. I should be writing about that.

Morning acceptance

“I noticed a bit of a prod around 6:30.” That was me spooning River this morning with my morning erection nestled up under the fuzz of her vulva. “I like being able to do that.” “I would have let you stick it in, but I fell asleep.” Not like being asleep matters. But I shake my head. “Not the right kind?” “Yeah. Sometimes the morning ones are for the right reason, but not that one.”  Fucking with a random morning erection is like fucking just for the sake of fucking.  And it can be hard to come.  “But you make me feel accepted, and that’s important to me.” “It’s nice to be accepted.”