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Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The right answer

I’m still finishing my second helping of River’s delicious tacos (that’s plural, you’ll notice, which is a clue that I’m not talking about her rather singular snatch) when she comes into the dining room, sits on my lap facing me, and starts planting some really meaningful smoochies on me. And grinding. I reciprocate (that's a joke, but don't worry if you don't get it). And as usual, I have to ask. “Want to do it?” The answer comes out of nowhere. Well, not really, I know where it’s coming from, but it’s still a surprise. Because it's the right answer. “Yes.” That’s not a regular, run-of-the-mill “yes”, it’s the kind of “yes” that would go in the middle of the phrase “Hello! Earth to Reed! Yes, you slow-on-the-uptake idiot.” Then she asks where. Leave the hard part to me, why doesn’t she (if you didn't get that joke, you should worry). Remember, I’m still eating dinner which means it’s just evening and the kids are still up. So I give it my best shot: “Here.” We’ve never done it in the dining room, at least not this dining room, and it’s freshly painted in a color she picked out. And it’s been too long since she’s done me face-to-face on a chair. I look around and don’t see any kids. But I better have a backup plan. “Your studio?” She gets up and I follow her.

She doesn’t waste time. Pants down, on the futon, pussy begging for it. “With the light on? Like you like?” She knows what I like. The windows are bare and I like that, too. I stare out into the dark and wonder who will stare back in. “And I don't think we've done it with my glasses on.” She's only had glasses a few months and she's hot in them. But River would be hot in anything. Or nothing.

My pants come off. As usual, I’m bumming about how I now have to “get” an erection instead of just having one. “I’ve got to get my part working.” “Mine is working.” I thumb River’s clitoris then push my thumb up inside her. I like the fit. Warm and cozy.

The light is turned off now. River is always wary of people watching through the window. I don’t care. I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of someone like us.

I’m turned on. My cock is nicely erect. I push into her. And we fuck.

There’s not much room on the futon, but there’s enough. We’re not big people. I like having to be creative in a confined space. As long as I can keep my knee from slipping off the edge we’re good. Very good.

We kiss while my cock slides in and out of her wet pussy. I feel her hands on me. “I like feeling your ass.” “Feeling it do this?” Pumping up and down while we fuck. Driving my cock into her and pulling it back out, poised for the next plunge. “Yes.” Good. I like having my body appreciated.

I’m not holding off this time. When I feel it, I’ll come. And I feel it. I don’t say anything, just push in deep and come, flooding her. She feels it, she feels happy to me, moans with me as I milk the sensations for all they’re worth, my hips rotating against her. I like how she enjoys my orgasms. But she couldn't possibly enjoy them as mush as I do.

“I was hornier than I’ve been for years.” “It must be nice to have such a receptive sweetie when you’re horny.” “It is.” And I have to ask. “What’s it like?”


  1. Oh. Oh my. This insomniac is now very horny indeed. Having a receptive sweetie is amazing. If I rolled him over right now and woke him to fuck he'd gladly receive. Yes.

  2. Liza, will I read about it tomorrow? Not that I can keep up with the pace of your blog.

  3. Ha, sounds like us last night right after dinner (leftovers, not tacos). Love it.