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Friday, December 30, 2011

Morning pillow talk

I woke up this morning and snuggled on River and started crying. I was thinking about something she recently wrote to a mutual friend. A few years ago she could see our relationship was dying. If we hadn’t had a family together she would have left. I told her about that and wanted to share what we said. A lot of the time it's not important who says what in our snippets of conversation. But this time it is. I'm talking first here. “The same friend asked me what I feared the most about our relationship, and I said fucking it up. If that kind of thing happens again, let me know.” “I will. Of course. I don’t think that kind of thing could happen again.” “I almost messed it up with my first antidepressant experience. You had to put up with a lot of shit. I’m your number one stressor.” “But we came out of it a lot stronger.” “I love you.” “I love you.

I don’t really want to dilute that one, but what came next was too good to pass up: “You felt so amazing snuggling on me last night. Warm and toasty. Fitting nicely to me. A nice shape. Me in my dreamy sleepy state. I was angling for our old stick-in, face-to-face, but when you rolled over I eventually thought I’d take advantage of things. In my dreamy sleepy state. How’s your butthole?” “Fine.” “I love you.” “I love you.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Every other time

I’ve only been coming about every other time lately. Sometimes every time, sometimes every third time, sometimes every other time. I’m getting used to it. It’s actually kind of nice. I like the feeling it leaves me with. Like I’m on a hair trigger. A pleasant pressure in my balls. More easily arousable. A good feeling for a guy with some ED.

We had a nice afternoon fuck a few days ago. We were 19-year old guy on experienced woman. I came easily, for a change. In character. The next night I was wanting more but River was sleepy. Around 1am she gets up to pee. I snuggle on her when she gets back. She falls asleep quickly. I slowly get hard. Very slowly. My cock brushing her leg should be enough. But I reach down. Feel my rubbery glans with my thumb. Pull the shaft. It helps, but not enough.

She’s wearing panties and a cute black nightie. Unusual. We normally sleep naked. Her period may be about to start. I feel for a pad. Nothing. I finger her through the cotton. The soft ring of her asshole is my landmark. Up to her labia. I’ve got visions of slipping her panties out of her crack and slipping my cock in. The thought should get me hard. But I’m still just halfway there. My fingers work the fabric aside. Feel for her wetness. Her labia thwart me. Delicious and thick. But thwarting. Is this why some women get labia reduction surgery? I’ll take delicious and thick, thanks. They feel nice. They look nice. Especially from behind, under her ass, her legs slightly parted.

There it is. Wet. My finger circles through the varying textures. Smooth. Soft. Firm. Rough. My cock stiffens. I sit to position myself. River wakes up. Rolls onto her side. I’m adaptable. She lies. I sit. Her hand pulls her panties down over her ass. My finger guides my cock into her. I push. But it won’t go. Thwarted again. She reaches down, spreads her lips for me. Accepts me. And we fuck.

Or I fuck. Fuck her. She moans and pushes her ass back against me. I breathe deep and push in, the head of my cock popping in and out of her pussy opening. Right where it feels best. My hands and fingers slip under her nightie, trace over the silky skin of her back and ass as we fuck. I pull her against me. Build up and fall back. Her ass pressing against me as my cock humps into her, between her softly fuzzy lips, into the wet.

I won’t finish. That’s ok. I’ve gotten used to it. I still like it. Like having a sweetie to fuck. Like how it feels, emotionally and physically. Love and pleasure. Before, during, and after.

Monday, December 26, 2011

A few places

The house we're staying in is not a house I grew up in. It’s pretty much the opposite of our house. Carpeted floors, electric wine bottle openers, 3-car garage, illogically-placed light switches, bleeping kitchen appliances, jetted tub, TV in the bedroom. The list is endless. At least there are a few places we’ve put to good use.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Frequent fucking

We've been doing it rather a lot lately. We haven't even been using the sex dice. I'm wondering why. There are a couple reasons I can think of:
  • River has been on bupropion, specifically to increase her libido. She says she's liking physical contact even more than usual.  She's always liked it, but only to a certain point it seems.  We've been having some really great smoochies and grinding hugs.
  • She's on break from school for about a month.
  • We've been away from home recently.  Being in a new environment seems to make her more amenable. That seems odd because in the past she's been puzzled about how I'm always wanting to have sex in various places. I've always thought that must be more of a guy thing.
  • My SSRI makes it noticeably harder for me to orgasm, so I don't always. She may be feeling like we have to get back to it and finish.  Or she might be liking how long I can pound her without coming.  She can wear me out making me fuck her.
  • We just did a bathroom remodel and we're doing a kitchen makeover.  Maybe that's making her feel the way she needs to feel.
I like frequent fucking, but I'm starting to wonder if it will become too much of a good thing.  I hope not.

Update, four days later: River says it's the school break. And I say it's not too much of a good thing.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Who would do that?

River skipped her shower this morning. She knows what that's going to get her. “I want to eat your pussy.” “You might not like the taste.” Is she kidding? Why wouldn’t I like the taste? “I wiped it with an anti-smelly wipe.” I can't believe it. “Who would do that to a perfectly good pussy?”

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Is that what I think it is?

We’re at my parents’ house for a few days. They’re gone. I’m in the shower. Unaccompanied, unfortunately. “I have to get my coffee,” says River. “I thought you were going to say ‘I have to get my cock.’” “I already got that.” Indeed she did. Her cock. My cock. Same thing.

So I’m in the shower. It’s a stall with a shower head on each side. Takes all the fun out of showering together, we agree. Well, not all of it, I guess. I look up and see something hanging from one of the shower heads. OMG. Is that what I think it is? It's triangular and has a strap. It looks like a filter mask. For breathing. Is that for when they fart in the shower? Whose side is it on?

Oh. It’s just some kind of body washing device.

Saturday, December 17, 2011


Today River says she only likes doing it, by which she means fucking, because she likes me. I sort of knew that, but today I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure quite how I feel about that but my first reaction is that I don’t like it, and it doesn’t make me feel too good.

I think I’d rather have a sweetie that likes doing it and likes doing it with me best of all. It’s kind of depressing to think of her happily not doing it for the rest of her life if I suddenly snuff it.

She says she likes it, and she certainly seems to most of the time, but rightly or wrongly what she says gives me this feeling that she only likes it because it placates me or something. No, she says she wants to have a full relationship with me that includes sex. But when I’m dearly departed she’ll be happy not having that kind of relationship with anybody. And not having sex with anybody.

I always look for analogies to try to understand things better. So I think, that’s like me saying I only like drinking wine because I like her. That doesn’t help at all because it’s true that I really have no use for drinking except it’s something I like to do with her. If she bit it I would happily live the rest of my life without drinking. Well, I wouldn’t be happy at all if she bit it, but not drinking wouldn’t make it worse.

So how about, I only like remodeling the bathroom because I like River? I’ve only got two analogies but I’m noticing a pattern here. River looks at sex the way I look at remodeling the bathroom.

I was right. I don’t like that at all.

Now I wonder if people look at our new bathroom and think wow, Reed and River must have some pretty great sex.

Monday, December 12, 2011

In the middle

“You’re right. Fucking without having an orgasm is still quite nice.” This after a long and somewhat exhausting session for both of us. “I’m glad you’re getting to find that out.” “But now we’re still in the middle of a fuck. I was thinking that during Thanksgiving dinner -- ‘We’re in the middle of a fuck.’” “Cute.” “And then I wonder how many other people are in the middle of a fuck.” “Ha ha.”

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Both of us were happy

A friend writes, “Last night we had a really sweet fuck, both of us came, and both of us were happy.” This morning River and I had a good time in the bath. River tried out the new shower head. I enjoyed a good long show while the tub filled and her vulva slowly submerged and I rubbed her g-spot, and I got to try my hand at using the shower head on her. Afterwards I enjoyed the squeaky friction of her watery-wet pussy, which isn’t usually my favorite but this time there was just something different. Neither of us came. “A morning taster,” River called it. Both of us were happy.

Why do these words sound so nasty?

“Cunnilingus. Or some ridiculous word like that.” “It is pretty ridiculous.” “But not as bad as fellatio.” “What’s wrong with that?” “It sounds all hoity-toity.” “Just think of it like this. Fella. She. Oh.” Her mouth forms the shape. Where did she learn that? In the church van on the way to a retreat? “Where did you learn that?” “I just made it up.” “Where have you been all my life?”

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Asking for blow jobs

Asking for blow jobs is awkward for me. But I’m working on it a little.

The dice say we’re not on until Saturday evening. That’s fine. We had a very nice flurry on Thanksgiving and aftewards. Last night I was telling River how on the way to work I got harder than I remember getting in that situation for years. It usually only starts getting hard when I’m on the second day of a Cialis, or when we do it in the morning without finishing. But this time it got harder than that. If River had been with me I would have pulled over on the side of the freeway.

“What brought that on?” “I was thinking about how we slipped into that fantasy that you were a college student answering a post I put on the job board.” “What was the job for?” I make something up. “A blow job.” “I’d answer a post like that.” I like where this is heading. “But not until after my final.”

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Once more, with feeling

River, who is one of my lurkers, mentions that I should write more about my feelings. How do I feel when she has a toothache, when she drops a giant book on the floor, when she says "Hi you" as I get into bed. My feeling is that's a really good idea and it makes me happy to have her make a suggestion like that.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Thinking, reading, and rolling

I was thinking about it on the way home. How the sex dice have been really great for taking the pressure off me as the primary initiator and rejectee. Being rejected wasn't so bad, but it got old always trying to balance my libido against River's, not trying to seem too greedy, contemplating "seize the moment" versus delayed gratification. Maybe I was over thinking things but if I hadn't I'd be pressuring for sex every five minutes which doesn't work as well as it should. Especially when we just fucked five minutes ago.

But then being the one who was always bringing the dice over to River got old. Instead of pressuring for sex I was now pressuring her to roll the dice to see when our next fuck would be. At least I didn't have to do that every five minutes.

So I was thinking about that on the way home. Wishing River would bring the dice to me. And she read my mind. We're on for tomorrow morning.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Girl on film

A few years ago I got myself a digital SLR for my birthday. I wanted to show River what she looks like to me. I think I’ve been successful.

Today I’ve pulled it out after our shower while she’s dressing. She’s gotten used to that. So have I. “It looks better when you’re pulling your panties down instead of up.” She obliges. I take a few and show her. “Do you have a worthy crop?” No, not to hit her with. To show her. “This is nice. It would look better if you stood up straight.” “Or just had bigger boobs. Not too big. Just back to where they were. Actually the boobs don’t look too bad.”

That’s the nicest thing she’s said about my favorite boobs in a long time. I like it.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Happy travels

Is today, the day before Thanksgiving, still the biggest travel day in the US? Even if it isn't, as you fly over don't forget to wonder how many people down there are fucking. And hopefully the answer will be "at least two".

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Disclaimer: This post didn’t quite turn out like I hoped. I’d hoped to focus on eating River’s pussy, particularly how she watched and how tasting her helped get me hard. Although those elements are present, they are not as prominent as I intended.

“I want to eat your pussy.” “I was thinking you might.” We’ve been to the ballet. Put the kids to bed. Poured a glass of something pink and bubbly to share. River pulls her shirt over her head in the dining room. Her nipples blaze enticingly on her bare tits. Her skirt falls away. She sits naked on the black wood of the chair, a gold chain curving sinuously above her breasts. “I feel overdressed.” “Le déjeuner sur l’herbe.” “Yes.” “You are overdressed.”

On the bed. River at the edge. A pillow on the floor for my knees. Her legs cascading down with her feet resting on my legs. Her pussy spread before me. Dark fur. Dark fleshy lips. My tongue flattens. Slides over them. Teases them. Parts them. My cock feels her tangy taste in my mouth, smells the scent lingering on her bush, and begins to harden.

River sits up to watch. I put on a show for her. My tongue walks up her lips to her clit. “That’s a long tongue.” I plunge it straight into her pussy, my mouth on her opening, and fuck her with it. My cock likes it. River likes it. She grinds against me, her clit against my circling tongue. What did she just say about the good part? I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s all good part tonight.

My cock wants more of her taste. Where is it? I push my tongue in deep. Have I licked her clean? Deeper. Curl the tip up. Side to side. Deeper than ever before. My lips surrounding hers. There it is. Tangy. My cock responds.

I stand and slide into her easily. And we fuck. Hugging. Writhing. Gasping. Her legs together. My hands crossed on her tits. Her feet on the bed lifting her ass while she fucks me with her cunt. My juice or hers? I don’t know. I don’t care.

I hold off. Orgasms have gotten easier. Hold off again. Fold her up into jackknife. Sit up and run my fingers over her skin. I love how she fucks me from underneath, arching and sliding her pussy up and down my rigid cock. I fuck back. “This time.” She fucks me. I let myself come. She makes me come. Groaning. My toes tying themselves in knots. The exposed feeling of my nuts being pulled up inside me. I push her back into jackknife and bang deep. Deeper. Pubic bones grinding. Come filling her. The way we like it.

I soften and she squeezes my cock out. My fingers take its place. “You feel more box-like to my fingers.” They squish inside her warmth. Find the ridge. The walls. The g-spot. I pull them out. She asks to see them. Slick and glistening. I put them in my mouth. I taste her. I taste me. I taste us.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

River is sweet

River is sweet when she gets up. Not that kind of sweet, unfortunately. “Do we roll the dice for back rubs now?” “You didn’t say anything.” “Didn’t you like that?” See, there’s the backlash. She recognizes it and leaves. She’s smart. And she pulls us out. Says I haven’t seemed antidepressed enough for about four days. It’s true. Sits on the kitchen floor and kisses me. Says she likes me. And tells the kids they’ve got about 15 minutes until it’s time to leave for school. “That’s enough time.” She doesn’t get it. That’s ok.

It doesn't happen

River came to bed kind of late. "What happened to our plan from yesterday?" "I can give you a back rub." We don't roll the dice for back rubs. I feel backlash. I don't say anything because I hate it when she non-answers. I don't even move.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

We almost didn't snuggle last night

We almost didn’t snuggle last night. The sex dice said we were on, but River mentioned we’d have to be creative since a rather heavy period just started. Her idea of creative is backrubs. My idea of creative is a blow job. Or why not both? Because she got up early, had a busy day, and has to get up early tomorrow. That’s fine. But she’s also been complaining about her jaw hurting after some dental work last week, and taking ibuprofen. Neither of which is sexy. And the last thing you probably want to do with a hurting jaw is give a blow job.

So I was thinking about blow jobs. We don’t do very many. River says she likes to do them. I guess it’s me who prefers hand jobs. And we both prefer fucking. I feel a bit sheepish asking for blow jobs. How can I want River to ask to have her pussy eaten, when I have a hard time asking for a blow job. Maybe it would be different if River told me she wanted me to ask for blow jobs. But she hasn’t.

At least I can no longer claim that River has never asked me to eat her pussy. Last week she planted it firmly on my face while we were on the futon, and said she was into it. And she was. It was everything I was hoping it would be. Except the angle didn’t work so well.

The thought crosses my mind that maybe River doesn’t want to have me write about getting a blow job from her. No, she would just tell me not to.

Periods, tiredness, pain, and not fucking are hardly reasons not to snuggle. But on top of that we had a conversation about something during which I got kind of riled up and confrontational. I’ve got an unfortunate tendency to do that. Still not all that big a deal. Our relationship can easily handle a bit of that.

It was black gravity. That’s what depression feels like to me. Black gravity sucking me down. And it felt nice. And comfortable. I missed it. It didn’t take me all the way down, but far enough that I could feel its seduction and almost wanted to go further. I was feeling envious, things were unfair, I was feeling sorry for myself.

River comes in and I’m in bed already. She’s surprised. She doesn’t know about today’s black gravity. She thinks I’ve gone to bed in a huff over our discussion. I haven’t. I just turned out the light and got in bed because I was done doing what I was doing. She stays on her side of the bed. This has happened before. She’s probably not sure what to do. Has she forgotten she can always snuggle me? Neither of us says anything. I know we have to snuggle.

“What are you doing over there?” I’m not sure which of us invented that line, but it’s a good one. We’re back.

We end up snuggling to sleep. In the morning I think of how stupid I’d be feeling if we hadn’t.

Maybe we’ll fuck tonight. Or something creative.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

What else could we be doing?

I like waking up with River in the morning. This morning I’m next to her, thinking my usual thing. I’m on this antidepressant and they can apparently mess with your libido, or your performance, usually in the wrong direction. But this one I’m on doesn’t seem to make much difference one way or the other. Just makes it harder to orgasm, and makes the orgasms a little less orgasmic. But I can live with that. And so can River, most of the time. Sometimes I think she even likes it.

This morning we're in bed and she’s talking about nursing school. And it’s really interesting stuff, for sure. But does she know what else we could be doing while she talks? “I’m thinking about blogging about how I want to fuck you.” “That’s good to know.”

Thursday, November 3, 2011

“I love you”

I like to talk while fucking but one thing I don’t really say is “I love you”. I say it all the time in other situations. Going to sleep. When River does something sweet. Or just out of the blue. But it’s always seemed a bit insincere to say “I love you” while fucking. So I don’t. I don’t like feeling insincere.

Recently, River and I were talking about it. While fucking. And it turns out she doesn’t have the same take on it. Which isn’t surprising, because as compatible as we are we tend to be extremely different about many things. But she doesn’t say it either, even though she says “I love you” in plenty of other situations.

So I try it. We’re fucking, face to face, and I say “I love you.” It’s kind of nice. And it’s sincere. At least when we’re face to face.

Saturday, October 29, 2011


Last night River and I had a bath together in our new tub that comfortably and intentionally seats two. When I came in River told me she hadn’t washed her hoo yet. As usual I think that’s some kind of hint. Maybe she wants to see how long I can hold my breath while I dive her muff underwater. Yes, it’s a hint, but only that I can wash her hoo. It’s usually something I do in the shower, getting a good lather going in her muff, then scooping my fingers down between her legs, through the alleys beside her vulva, in the grooves between her labia minora and majora, delving into the soft ellipse of her pussy, briefly up to her clit, finishing with a sweet rub on her asshole.

Today she’s on full display, leaning back on the end of the tub, her feet up on the edges. I soap up her bush, working up the lather. My hand slides down over her vulva, my fingers opposite to their usual orientation. And it’s amazing. The overarching slipperiness, her lips straining and squishing between my fingers, her vagina winking open without shyness as I pull downwards, the vast expanse of female flesh to behold. It’s bigger than life. How could I begin to satisfy such a thing with my tongue, or even with my fully erect cock?

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Impromptu intimacy

This morning we had some time to sleep in. And we both slept well last night. We were going to watch the end of our movie but we discovered the hard way that we both had tired-induced grumpiness. So we just went to bed and fell asleep snuggling.

In the morning we wake up nearly at the same time. River rubs my feet with hers. “That’s always extraordinarily sexy.” I slowly get hard. That’s how it’s supposed to work. She takes a pee break then we snuggle face to face, me pushing my hardon against her vulva with my leg. Like old times. “Do you have a plan?” “Let’s do our old stick-in.” Face to face on our sides, her leg over mine. The one we used to start with a lot. She thinks she’s had some geometry changes, or maybe she’s not as flexible as she used to be. But she’s wrong. It’s like old times. “And he’s in.” And we fuck.

It’s a gorgeously sweet fuck on a lazy morning. Entirely in the stick-in position. We usually move on quickly because it’s not very deep, but this morning it’s just the thing. Fast, slow, smooth, abrupt. Intimate. Playing with each other’s nipples. And talking. “You like talking while we do it.” “I’ve written that many times.” “It’s like we’re having this nice pillow talk up here, while somebody else is fucking down there.” “That’s exactly how I think about it.” I don’t know why I like it so much.

We talk about many things. We even talk about fucking. About how happy I am that I get to do this with her. About how there’s a penis in her vagina. About how it’s a nice intimate morning, talking and fucking. About how I wish we could start every day like this. About how we’ll finish tonight, when we’re actually scheduled. This has been a perfect impromptu fuck. We both think so.

A few times I try to stop so we can get up. But I don’t have the willpower. “I’ll stop.” “We’ll stop together.” I count down, 3, 2, 1, and we pull apart.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

No Sexo

In the second installment of Sex and Lucia, there is no fucking. And I realized, there was no fucking in the first installment, either. There was pretending to fuck. They are actors and actresses. Pretending is their job. For all I know the hardon shot used a prop. There was one interesting scene with a woman and a shower head. “I invented that,” says River. “You and every other woman.”

But there was actual fucking in this movie. They were watching a porn video. And they were fucking in the video. I could see the guy’s hard cock sticking right into the girl under her ass. So how come it’s ok to have actual fucking in this movie, but the characters don’t do it? (At least not yet.) Is it because they’re serious actors and actresses? When Marilyn Chambers did Behind the Green Door in the 70s, she went from Ivory soap girl to interracial onscreen cum dumpster because she thought that’s where serious acting seemed to be going. Maybe she was ahead of her time.

And so what if the serious actors and actresses are fucking in a movie? It’s just something boys and girls do. This movie even has a character deliver the line “Sex. No intimacy. Just wild sex.” As if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Serious actors and actresses certainly kiss in movies, and that’s sometimes considered more intimate than fucking. Why not go all the way?

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Lucía y el sexo

“How did you choose that movie?” “I heard the theme song on a couple different Pandora stations. I looked it up. It was nominated for 11 Goya awards.” “I thought you got it because it has lots of fucking. Something I might actually watch.” I didn't even notice there was any music in it.

We’ve been trying to find movies to watch together. Lately it seems movies just kind of waste my time and make me grumpy and I leave partway through to clean the kitchen. Even though I like sitting on the couch with River, holding her hand and feeling her shape next to me. But we watched part of Sex and Lucia last night, and we both intend to watch more. We have to watch in installments after the kids are in bed and we have some time together.

So, what’s ok about this movie? It’s in Spanish. It’s got a good title. And it’s got a lot of fucking. It’s European so there’s even a closeup of a hand stroking a hardon. River says it’s a nice one (the hardon, that is). She’s seen more than I have so I’ll take her word for it. The girl’s nice looking and she’s got perky boobs. And she walks around the apartment naked. That wins me over right away. I like people who walk around the house naked. I do it. River does it. I assume that everybody does it but it’s not the kind of thing that tends to come up in casual conversation so I’m not sure.

River even likes the sex in the movie, which is really saying something. It's giving her ideas, which is more than I can usually manage to do. She especially likes the sex near the beginning, where they’re swimming and splashing in an ocean lit by the full moon. Sinuous, she says. A word I’ve used to describe her. And somehow they’re managing to fuck at the same time. A little improbable, I think. Or I’ve got a lot to learn.

River notices me giving her an assessing look as she undresses at bedtime. I’m pretty sure I always look at her like that. And she likes it. And I like it when she notices me looking. But she asks, “What?” “Just making sure I still like your boobs after watching perky boob chick.” Not that her boobs aren't perky. But they are, as I put it, compact. “Do you?” “They’re still my favorites.”


After my unsuccessful attempt at jacking off in her studio in the afternoon, I try again in bed with River in the evening. This time with lube. We have massage oil next to the bed, it’s got the best feel, it's most like River's own water-based juices, but I want something with easier clean-up. She brings me a small bottle of Astroglide. That works.

She rolls toward me. Is she going to watch? I’d like her to. It’s demoralizing jacking off next to her and having her roll away and go to sleep. Tonight would be especially bad, since jacking off between fucks is her idea. But she watches. I have my favorite audience. I grasp the head of my cock, squeeze some lube onto the tip, spread it around, over the slit, down the glans, and stroke toward the base with a few fingers, pulling up, sliding down, trying to coax my cock into stiffening. I feel the characteristic weightiness in my shaft, but not enough.

I’m not getting hard on my back. I sit up and look at River. Sitting up works better for me lately. She pulls the covers off herself. Pushes her ass in my direction for my viewing pleasure. My cock responds. “That looks like a good one.” I can jack it, but I show her how it still bends easily. “That should hurt.” Or be impossible. But it's hard enough to feel nice..

I gaze into the shadow between her legs. Under her ass. I can't see much. But I know how it would feel. Smell. Taste. I get harder. My cock will only bend to ninety degrees now.

Maybe I can get some audience participation. “What would you like me to think about?” It’s been a while since I masturbated. I often thought about River. Mounting me. Sliding her pussy down my cock. Fucking me. Making me come inside her. But I let her choose my fantasy tonight.

“Creamy breasts.” She pulls the cover aside a bit more. “Rosy nipples.” I reach my hand out, touch her hip. Her skin is warm and smooth and pale. “Soft thighs.” My hand slides over her ass. I’m hard now. “What’s between them?” “Pink. Glistening. Slippery.” That’s her. She’s my fantasy. And more. My fingers slip between her legs and find a soft pool of willing flesh. I want to fuck her. She knows I want to fuck her. Take my hard cock and push it into her while we both sigh. But she’s trusting me not to. I don’t want to lose her trust.

And I don’t have to. My meds don’t make it easy. But I’ve reached the threshold of orgasm. “I’m going to finish.” She smiles. I time every stroke to maximize my response. When I feel it I move forward. My come spurts and falls onto her. I milk my thumb over the sensitive corona of my glans, squeezing to the last drop as my come puddles on her.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


I’m a snuggler. Over the years I’ve converted River into a naked-sleeping snuggler, too. And into someone who likes kissing. And she’s even enjoyed cunnilingus with me a few times. Next she’ll even enjoy fucking. Well, she does enjoy it, and always has, at least since she’s been doing it with me. It’s just that she tends not to remember how much she likes it. And she’s converted me, too: it didn’t take long for me to like being on top. She’s very appreciative. Very fuckable.

But snuggling is what’s on my mind now. For over a year we had a long dry spell. No fucking. No snuggling. I would sleep over on what I called my sad side of the bed, which was about one inch wide. Somehow I never fell off the edge, but I probably would have enjoyed it if I had. I still loved River and always have. She calls our dry spell more like being brother and sister. And she hated me occasionally. I found that out later. I wish I'd found out sooner.

But I’m trying to talk about snuggling. Sometime between then and now I realized that we should always snuggle in bed. Even if things are a little rocky. We know we’ll make things better. We always have. Snuggling is reassuring. We still like each other. Still love each other. We’re bigger than the rocky patch of the moment. I’ve never regretted snuggling. I have regretted not snuggling. And I do too many things that I regret. I don’t need one more.

River agrees. We should snuggle.

And so we do. We usually go to bed at the same time now. One of us snuggles on the other as long as we can stand it. Sometimes until we both fall asleep. When I snuggle on her, I pull our bodies together and often say something like “Once again you’ve got all the good space, and I’m trying to get into it with you. Why can’t we both occupy the same space? Stupid laws of physics.” River's space is very nice.

I really wasn’t sure how she could stand me being such a greedy space-occupying snuggler. She’s got a lighter, but very nice, touch. So one night she snuggled on me like I snuggle on her, and it was quite nice. I felt loved. But she can snuggle me however she wants. I like it however she does it.

We can’t usually snuggle until we fall asleep. We usually end up separating. But I always like to touch. It’s hard for me to fall asleep without touching. Our legs. My hand on her comforting ass. Anything. Just to touch. And fall asleep.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

This is hard

This is hard. (What is it exactly that's so hard? Sometimes I think I just need to avoid that word when I'm not talking about that.) River and I had a really amazing fuck this morning. I want to write about it in the full-on hardcore Reed-POV immediate-tense in-my-head erotica that I've come (shut up) to know and love. But I liked the feeling of being a non-blogger and just fucking and living my life without the words rattling around in my head waiting to be blogged.

For now let's just say it went something like this: River initiates and takes charge and leads us through a series of interesting positions and nice views. But she's so slippery that I'm going to have to finish on top. She looks about 19 and plays along with my fantasy of fucking a 19-year old who's getting more than she bargained for. Three times we nearly stop but I get hard again inside her, and finally I feel an orgasm and we have an intensely hot sweaty fuck for the finish.

I feel better now.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

A hug

River and I are both huggers and always have been. A few days ago she's giving me a hug. I warn her that I might have to burp. I'm not a very accomplished burpist. Not good at letting them out when I need to, or keeping them in when I should. So she runs her hands up and down my back and says "My mom always believed in rubbing them out."

I'm still laughing.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


I’m going a bit out of order here, but I wanted to get this down while it was still fresh.

River has been having some libido issues. She says for months. I say for years. She’s going to see about getting them addressed. In the meantime I don’t want to be pressuring her every five minutes to fuck, like I usually do. That cannot be good for her libido. So she suggests that I jack off. She doesn’t think much of my suggestion that I just hang out on the street and ask women whether they’d like to fuck. And I’d probably like jacking off more than I’d like propositioning random women. So, jacking off it is.

I used to jack off a lot, but not so much any more. There are a couple of reasons. First, I’ve been getting (almost) enough fucking, and second, I’ve got ED issues. “And you don’t want to waste an erection on jacking off.” “Right.” It’s not like the old days of a mere three years ago when I could and did jack off with no harm done regardless of whether we might be fucking later. Now it can be hard to get an erection (I can't believe I said that) (yes, I can) and if I come I’ve probably just shot my wad in the foot (I love mixing metaphors) for any action later in the day.

So, in order that I know what’s coming up (ha ha), we go back to our scheme of letting the dice decide our schedule. The dice say Monday morning. That is a really long time from today which is Tuesday. We last fucked on Saturday and I’m at my three-day peak of really feeling the need in my balls. And we’ve just had a really nice emotional warm up talk. So I say it. “I’d fuck you right now.” I drop my pants to show my visual aid. It would be more impressive if I were unleashing a raging hardon but there’s my limp dick dangling, only slightly puffy. But nothing doing. She turns me down flat. Doesn't even hesitate. Says she has to study. As if I don’t “have to” fuck.

If I’m going to jack off, I need a place to do it. Not a place like the old days when I was kind of secretive about it. A place where River can keep an eye on me, so to speak. Jacking off was her idea. I’m sure she’ll help me find an appropriate spot. She suggests one of the chairs in her art studio. I was hoping she’d say that.

Before I start I walk over to her desk and unzip. "Will you highlight me?" She draws a smiley face on my glans with her pink highlighter. Maybe it's a self-portrait.

I grab a paper towel, pull my pants off, and get to work. She’s in the corner studying. I’m not getting as hard as I should, and I could use some lube, but it’s quite a sensation having my cock out and chatting back and forth about her studying while I'm trying to come. It reminds me of how I like to talk about things while we fuck.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish.” “I’ll improve your view.” She drops her pants and sits back down. The view does help. “You’ve got a really nice ass.” “Thank you.” I point out that now that I've posted it, people all over the world have seen it. That turns me on. She stands up and bends over and the view improves even more. So does my erection. I like it that she’s trusting me not to just come over and ram my cock into her. Or she knows I’m not hard enough. I prefer to think she’s being trusting. And ultra-flirty.

But it’s just not happening. I even try her magic wand. I can’t believe she sticks that thing near her clit and gets off in under a minute. It seems like massive overkill. It does feel nice down around my anus but I can only take so much (stop laughing, that's not what I meant).

But between the ED and being on an antidepressant that makes it hard to come, I’m just not going to finish. It turns out they give that stuff to premature ejaculators. It really works. I could fuck all night on that stuff without coming. So I give up. I feel like she feels so many times when she tries but has to give up.

I thank her for letting me jack off in her studio while she studies and let her know that I feel accepted, which, it’s turned out, is one of the reasons why I want to fuck in the first place. Acceptance.


Ok. I miss blogging. I still want to tell the world about Reed and River fucking, as well as Reed and River not fucking, this time in less of the fourth-wall pure erotica style that I did in Reed and River are Fucking. Although I'll probably throw some of that in as well.

I miss it so much that this blog is going to spring into existence before I get the visuals and whatever else to the point where I'm comfortable with them.