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Jason quivered and shivered at my touch. I knew that I had already aroused his hole to be ready for my assault. I put a little lube on my condom covered cock to make my entry even easier.With his legs held tight against his chest, I maneuvered my hips up to Jason so that my throbbing cock was at its entry point. Our eyes locked and with a quick nod, Jason let me know that he was ready and eager and willing for me to begin my love attack. I pushed my hips forward, slowly pushing my cock into its target. I watched Jason's face, concerned that my hard 8 inch cut would cause any discomfort, but my stare was only met with a soft smile. Further in, Jason released his breath, having passed the point of initial pressure. Once in, I began my slow assault, moving in and out, back and forth, letting my hips swivel into a steady rhythm. The fucking was delicious. The warm wet tightness that Jason's ass offered made my head spin. But more importantly, it wasn't just the pleasure of the sex. I. The last of the children finally had gone. The old gray river watched them go. Watched them all. And giggled and gurgled on and on, endlessly carving its careworn crease in the face of the earth. And told to her, only to her, its timeless tales of wants and dreams and ambitious plots, soured and surrounded and washed away. But she had stayed. She and the river. The years ground away. Content, if not happy, she had dwelt alone. Her life became a simple ritual of sameness. The interminable tread of her rocker rungs wore wrinkles in face of her sloping porch. Except for a tiny plot of vegetables, a few chickens, and one cow, the land lay fallow now. She had ceased to fight the river. And it had never again tried to dislodge her. Many an hour she had sat here, her slate colored wooden rocker creaking its voice out to the dingy river, the river answering with its constant drone. Often she spoke aloud to her river,- phrases fraught with feelings, like those which pass between lifelong.
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