A hammer bangs downstairs

River comes home and we shower. We hear somebody come into the house. The contractor doing some work on the kitchen. A year ago, that would have been the death of the interlude we’ve got planned. But instead of canceling it, River suggests we use her studio upstairs.

We look at some of her paintings. “I’ve got an idea for fixing this one. I bet you won’t mind if I paint naked.” Mind? It’s one of my fantasies. One she’s indulged several times. She peels and paints. My pants come off and I sit on the futon. I’d like to be hard for her when she’s ready. I watch her ass as she stabilizes her body in different positions for painting, and stroke my stiffening cock. I’ll be ready.

She finishes up. Comes over to the futon. Faces me. Straddles me. Positions my cock against her pussy. Works her way onto it. And we fuck. Her legs on the futon. Her feet on the futon. My hands on her ass. On her back. Her waist. Her tits. She’s got some nice action going today. “I think painting is a good warmup.” So is watching her paint.

River spins around on my cock and fucks me with her feet on the floor, then reaches back for my hands, manages to pull us into a standing position, and bends over until she's practically folded in half. My cock is still inside her. I know what to do. Pound in hard. A hammer bangs downstairs while we bang upstairs. “Careful with the cervix today.” I’m still forceful but don’t hit it as deep. “That’s perfect.”

“I’ve got one in me.” “You should take it. You know what happens when you don’t.” My orgasm explodes into her. It’s hard to stand. River squirms her ass against me while I come, trying not to be too loud about it. She stands up in front of me. I reach around for her breasts and pull our bodies together. We’re still fucking. I like the feel of her ass pushed against me.

“We should do that more often.” I can hardly believe she said that. But she’s really been liking the daytime fucks lately. “You should tell your sister that.” “My sister’s kind of slutty. She’s not allowed in my studio. Uh oh, did you hear that?” she asks the contractor.

Hopefully more tonight

River and I go out to lunch today. “Didn’t you promise me a back rub a while back?” Well yeah, she can get a back rub just about any time she wants. I love touching her. We think about why she didn’t get one. Maybe she was too tired. No, that doesn’t make sense. “I was too cold.” That’s it. I put my hand on her back in the restaurant. She purrs. She wants more of that when we get home.

“Should we turn on the stove in the bedroom?” “I’d rather have it as a reward for doing my homework.” “That’s fine.”

Four hours later she hasn’t claimed it. I’m not feeling good about that. “Well I had all this stuff I had to do.” “Had to do.” She could have told me earlier, instead of letting me assume and sit here for hours. Or I could have asked, but it just seemed implied by the way she said it that it wouldn’t be too long. Still, assumptions often get me in trouble and I'm trying to learn to avoid them. “There was a bunch of other stuff I forgot about.” “So I’m just one more thing in the big pile of stuff you forgot about.” That doesn’t make me feel good. “Well don’t you forget about stuff?” “Of course I do. And I probably upset people. And I probably apologize.” “Apologies are good.” Then why doesn’t she do it.

“We’ve got 15 minutes until I have to pick up Brook.” “You should do your reading or one of those other things you have to do, and we can save it for tonight.” My problem is that she said it was something she wanted, but it seems like she’s trying to squeeze it in like something I want (which I do), and I’m supposed to be grateful.

“I want it because my back is all achy.” There we go. That melts me. I don’t feel cast aside and taken for granted anymore. I feel wanted and needed. River gets 15 minutes of back rub. And hopefully more tonight.

Priorities

It had been a while and we had a plan to do it in the afternoon. I wasn’t sure it was going to happen but River let me help set priorities and we had a nice time before dinner while the kids were doing ... something.

River did her usual nice job of getting me hard while I felt her unusually wet pussy. Which isn't to say it's not normally wet, she's usually quite nicely lubricated, with different feels for different times of the month.

We had a nice fuck while talking about this and that, which is one of my favorite things to do, and flipping through several variations of her on her back and me on my side and our legs in creative places.

I wasn’t sure I was going to come until I angled for her g-spot and suddenly there was the friction I needed, and I could tell by the sounds she was making that I’d found something good for her, too. Either that or she was just faking it so I'd hurry up and come, but I believe her when she says she can't fake it, and has no idea what she sounds like while we're fucking.

When I came she just fucked me right through it so I didn’t stop either, we just kept fucking and talking until eventually I got soft (maybe it's a good thing I get soft or I might never stop) and we did our traditional t-shirt wipe-up and had meatloaf for dinner.

(That was a strange experiment in past tense for me. I usually write in what I call "immediate tense" because it's so immediate -- more present than present tense.)

Cute butt jeans

River is wearing her cute butt jeans. Levi’s 505s. They’re all worn in, stretched out, and painted on. And her butt is in them. They definitely give me what we call a “reaction”. Or rather, River gives me the reaction. Every time she wears them, the conversation goes something like this. “Your butt sure looks cute in those jeans.” “That’s surprising. These are my most worn out, baggy, comfy jeans.” “That’s why you look so cute.”

Birthday thought

We celebrated River’s birthday recently, and of course we took advantage of our “last chance to fuck me before I’m a year older” tradition. Birthday morning I was feeling her boobs and had a sudden realization. “Your boobs aren’t as old as you are.” “You’re right. I sprouted kind of late. My boobs are probably only 30 years old.” “Mmm, 30-year old boobs.” “I like the way you say that.”

Our favorite music to fuck to

Our friends are always asking why River and I have such great sex and they don't. It's because we've got this squeezebox radio in the bedroom that plays gazillions of internet radio stations. We've also got a squeezebox duet for our stereo. It's pretty much all we ever play, aside from some vinyl.

Our favorite music to fuck to is this:

http://www.divbyzero.de/chill.pls

It's like having our own modern electroporn soundtrack.

The squeezeboxes also play Pandora stations, and our second favorite is classical guitar, in particular a station set up with Pepe Romero. I've had a Pandora membership for years because they're so cool. It has nothing to do with them having my band's music on their service. Really.

And just so you know, we don't have a TV in our bedroom, and never have, and never will. Just the occasional iPad.

Naked morning

“I don’t have to shower. I’m beautiful!” “That’s what I tell you all the time. Hi, beautiful.” She’s seen that so often she can read my lips. Or maye she’s reading my face. Or my mind.

She’s scampering all over the house. Naked. Except for her glasses. That just emphasizes the point. All the windows are bare and she doesn’t care. I’m turned on. She’s dusting. I catch glimpses of her vulva as she bends over. Did I mention I'm turned on? “You don’t even need one of those French maid outfits.” “Nope. Gilding the lily.” “I’ll gild your lily.”

The squeezebox turns on as she dusts it. Our favorite music to fuck to. “I’ve got this theory that you’re trying to get me to clean our new closet so we have enough room.” “I never thought of that. But it’s cute.”