Well somebody told me

That song is stuck in my head all night. “Well somebody told me, that you had a boyfriend, who looked like a girlfriend . . .” Don’t know it? Sure you do.  I’m just not singing it very well. Here’s what I’m talking about.

Why is it in my head? I’ll get to that. First things first.

I’m coming to bed. I haven’t showered for a while. There was supposed to be hot water left for me this evening but there isn’t any. Not even warm. And I don’t smell particularly good. I can smell myself, which means I probably smell ten times worse to other people. This might snuff the carefully laid plans I told you about last time. I can’t believe this is happening. The timing is terrible.  Welcome to my life. “You’re going to have a stinky sweetie in your bed.” “I don’t mind.” Wow. The “I can’t believe it” factor just worked in my favor.  “But you could use a washcloth on your pits.” Is that all?  I can do that.

When I come to bed I’m not too bad. At least, I can’t smell myself. But that doesn’t mean anything.  I’ve had all day to get used to how I smell.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Valentine.” “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

River’s body language seems receptive. But I’ve got to check in on something. “Remember what I warned you about yesterday?” She thinks. I know she knows but I say it anyway. So she doesn’t have to.  And because saying it turns me on. “A nice Valentine’s Day fuck.” “Mmm hmm.” “I know you’ve been dreading it all day long.”  “I don’t mind.” “What would you like for a warm up?” I know what she’s going to get for a warm up if she can’t come up with something: a back rub. “Some back rub.” “That’s what I was thinking.” We’re so compatible. In most ways. The important ways.

She reaches for the oil. I straddle her and let my cock come to rest on her ass crack. We look good together.  Male and female.  Female and male.  Boy and girl.  Girl and boy.

And there it is. In my head. “Well somebody told me, that I had a girlfriend, who looks like a girlfriend . . .” I’m liking the way my girlfriend looks, me sitting behind her ass, spreading just the right amount of oil onto the vee of her back, her shoulder blades, down her sides, up her neck, onto her arms, her slender waist, around her hips, across the tan line where she got a bit too much sun in her bikini a few weeks ago . . . I could do this forever, watching the light and shadows play across her back as my fingers dimple the skin with their strokes, feeling her flesh flow under my hands, having my way with her body. Sometimes I wish she would just fall asleep while I’m doing this. Sometimes she does.

I’d love to just sit here and get hard as my balls nuzzle against her ass and pull the skin of my cock ever so slightly downwards, then slip it in and feel our connection. But it’s not happening. I can help. One hand plays more oil over her ass, kneading the right cheek, grabbing the left cheek, while the other goes to my cock, the thumb stroking up the top side with residual oil. Not too much oil. The sweet friction of River juice is all I want tonight. My cock hardens nicely as I finally allow a thumb to slip down her ass and between her legs, brushing the fur, pushing for her secret darkness.

“You have the right spot.” River wiggles back against me and I feel her lips give way as my thumb is on the verge of plunging in but lingers at her opening, circling the wetness I can feel . . . and hear. I get harder to the wet smacky sounds of her pussy, until I fit my cock to her entrance and slide forward, as deep as I can go, my balls rubbing up her legs, my body pushing against her ass. And we fuck.

She feels exquisite today. Some good River juice. Just the way I like it. Not too wet, not too dry. The built-in squeeze of this position strokes the length of my shaft nicely as I slide in and out of her, the head feeling everything from the soft wetness of her depths to the frictiony frill of her opening, and back.

I lay on top of her, my hand on her shoulder pulling us together. She’s called this “the deep position” before, and I’m going deep, staying deep, deeper, feeling the twinge of her cervix, fucking in and out of her, exquisite, our breath moaning and gasping. I lean over her, my legs spread astride her, my back arched, hips up, my cock dropping into her at a steep angle then making the sucky sounds as I barely fuck her with just the tip.

Right about the time I’ve run out of bed and put my foot on the floor for extra leverage we hear somebody tromping past the bedroom door, which is propped partway open, and into the bathroom next door. So what. River switches off her reading light and we fuck by braille. I’ve got a girlfriend, who feels like a girlfriend.

My left leg slips between her legs, then my right leg, my knees inside hers pushing her legs apart. The change in her pussy with her legs spread is incredible. Just what I needed. From the tight deep squeeze to a lush, bottomless wetness. A rain forest. An Amazon rain forest. I want more. I push my knees out, spread our legs wider. This position can be strenuous but not tonight. I push up on my hands, freeing my hips to hit every angle, my cock feeling every nuance of her, and now I feel the caress of her pussy making me want to come as I rock from side to side inside her tropical sweet spot.

But I don’t come. Yet. Too often these days I have to take whatever I can get (thanks, antidepressant). That’s why I don’t always finish lately: I don’t always like what I can get, and I’m pretty sure I can get better if I wait a day or two to finish. But this is my day to finish.  I can tell it will work out for me to hold off now; it will just make it better when I do finish.  And I will finish tonight.  The feeling is right. So I grind into her, pushing right up to the edge, River pushing back, rocking from side to side until I’ve coasted over the urgency and back down to the plateau where we can fuck some more.

Our fuck has been long and sweet and intense. I especially like how she wiggles it back into place when I slip out. “I’m close.” River is probably like it’s about time. I’m sure she knows I held off back there. I’m greedy that way. But I know it will be a good ending. “Slow.” Slow endings are crazy, creeping slowly up to an orgasm, barely moving, sometimes not moving at all when I’m so close to the edge that the head of my cock is super-sensitive and just the pressure of River’s pussy and the angle of my cock is enough to make me come, I just wait, feel it build, feel my balls tighten, feel River beneath me, then finally feel my cock lurch, feel the first spurt empty into her, flooding her, flowing around my cock, River pushing back, the second spurt has even more volume, sounding a chord in my cock, in her pussy, a deep harmony, a crescendo, overflowing with the major third, deeper, louder. Gasping. Panting. Crazy.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Well somebody told me, that I’ve got a girlfriend . . .


Valentine’s Day

Today is Valentine’s Day! I feel bad because I haven’t gotten anything for River, but I have some things in mind. Brook always likes to go out and get chocolate with me, because she knows she can ask for (and get) some because she’s such a good helper.  And I’d like to do a reprise of the card I made for River some years ago when I was in a particularly creative period of my life, around the time I started my first blog. I hope I can pull that off.

And, I know we’ll be having a nice fuck today! How do I know? Because I warned River last night. Two nights ago we had a really sweet fuck, all huggy and kissy and clean skin. I like dirty skin just fine but the clean skin was really working for us.

Anyway, I didn’t finish. Meaning, no orgasm for me. We ended up spooning as River drifted off to sleep and I slowly went soft inside her. It was really satisfying and I had a glowy feeling all the next day (which was yesterday) so I told River I’d give her the night off which she appreciated. All day she’d probably been dreading coming home to her super-horny sweetie and having to capitulate to his (completely reasonable) demands and put up with him (me) fucking her (River). But you know River is never thinking what I think she’s thinking, and she’s never, ever, thinking about sex. So it’s a good thing I think about it enough for both of us. More then enough.

Of course I was nice enough to say she didn’t have to have the night off if she didn’t want it, but of course she did.

But I’m devious. Sometimes I have to be if I want any action at all. I have to plan ahead. Like I just said, I think about sex. So River doesn’t have to. It can be hard to make plans that include somebody who’s never thinking what I’m thinking. They have a way of not working out, as you know. At least I know she’s not thinking what I think she’s not thinking.

What I was thinking, in my devious way, is that Valentine’s Day is coming up, and traditionally it’s a nice day for us. Not necessarily sex-wise, although there’s probably a lot of good Valentine’s Day action in my archives. But definitely emotionally-wise, and sweetie-wise. And furtherly devious I was thinking that I didn’t finish one night and she’s often fairly receptive to having me finish the next night (even though I get to have an explosive orgasm and she just gets to drip all the next day) but then I gave her the night off instead (actually I offered her the night off but I knew she’d take it, otherwise my plans would have been sunk because Valentine’s Day would have been three days in a row which is borderline impossible—that’s me thinking one move ahead!) and the next night (tonight) is Valentine’s and she has the next day off work so she can stay up late and we can fuck! Perfect. Perfectly devious. Deviously perfect. Yes I overthink this stuff sometimes but shut up.

So just to make things even more perfect I warned her last night (like I told you) about my plans for tonight so she could gird her loins. Whatever that means. Is that “gird” as in “girder”? I’ll have a girder for her to use. Is it “gird” as in “girdle”? Is that why whenever I hear the phrase “gird one’s loins” the picture that comes to mind is someone yoinking their underwear up to chin level and giving themselves a wedgie?

I was going to write about our really sweet snuggly huggy kissy fuck two nights ago but now I can’t find a good place to squeeze it into this post. Oops. Got carried away with talking about how I have to think ahead and plan or I won’t have anything to write about at all.  Oh wait, I was going to put in a couple paragraphs right before the word “anyway” back there.  Yet another mislaid plan.  Get it?  Mislaid? Sorry . . .

I really hope my plans work out tonight.  But even my best laid plans for getting laid gang aft agley, as River likes to say.