Cutting down

A few weeks back my citalopram dose was upped from 20mg to 30mg because River and I agreed that I didn’t always seem antidepressed enough. Yesterday I realized we’d gone five days without fucking which is a dry spell. And I’d gone eight days without an orgasm which is a long dry spell. So I’m cutting down to 20mg again. What’s the use of being antidepressed when you don’t even care whether you fuck or not, and when you do it’s hard to come.

After six days, we had a very nice time together this afternoon that included a fuck in the orgasm (River’s first orgasm in weeks) and a luxurious afternoon nap.

A thin green ring

We’re still at the hotel. We’ll probably be here another week. Not a sexy hotel, but we’ve got a nice big room for the whole family.

And we’re in the hotel shower. It seems like a tight squeeze after our new luxurious shower at home. But it’s a nice squeeze.

River grabs the green disc of soap. “When we have bar soap, I usually just do this.” I feel her sensuous washing rhythm on my chest, just the soap and her bare hands. I like it. At home we use soft soap and a washcloth. This is new. “I pretty much grew up without using a washcloth.” “Same here.” Although I’m sure my mom would beg to differ. Using a washcloth somehow seems more sophisticated. But there’s something about River’s bare hands all over my body.

Then it’s my turn. Kneeling in front of her, reaching up to soap up her breasts with my hands. Reaching between her legs for her ass. Her body feels nice. Smooth and slippery. By now we’ve worn the soap down to a thin green ring. I soap her bush, take my hand away, and the soap sticks to it. We laugh. Laughing is good. If you can't laugh when you're naked, when can you laugh.

Can't complain

We’ve had a good week. River can’t believe what we did in my parents’ bed. When she puts it that way, neither can I. Then there was new year’s morning on their living room floor, before the kids got up. She surprised me with that one. And I do like surprises. Especially hers.

So I really can’t complain, even though I started this post to do a bit of complaining in a “Reed and River Are Not Fucking” kind of way. I’m sure glad I didn’t. Because we sure have been fucking.

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.”

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.

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.

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.