A Birthday Surprise
Hi. I’m Susie. I have a husband; James. I adore him. Even more so after his recent birthday present to me. Want to hear about it?
It wasn’t a special birthday, just one on the run up to the supposed life changing fortieth.
We’ve been married fifteen years. Our sex life is great. Nothing outrageous. We haven’t been wife swapping, or dogging, or anything like that, but we have always had great fun in bed. We’ve experimented with all sorts of things to keep the spark alive, bondage, role play, spanking, the works, but always only the two of us. ‘Playing away’ has never tempted me. No need. James has a happy knack of satisfying my sexual desires. But…
A week or so before my birthday, we were having a loving night in, plenty of wine leading to a cosy petting session on the sofa. We were both very relaxed when James asked if I had anything special I’d like as a birthday present. Being tipsy I naughtily replied;
“Well, a different cock would be good.” It was a flippant, throwaway remark but as soon as I said it I panicked. Oh, god, what’s he going to think?
“Really? Roger not doing his job?”
Roger is our pet name for his cock. Yes, I know, but there we are.
“No darling, of course he is, but you know what they say, a change is as good as a rest.”
Digging myself deeper and deeper.
“Well, yes, but another bloke, fucking you? Jeez. I’m not sure.”
I back peddled like mad.
“Oh please, forget I said anything. I didn’t mean it. It was a silly comment, a joke.”
“Was it? It’s obviously something you’ve thought about. Got anyone special in mind?”
I was now getting frantic. God, he’s imagining I’ve got a bloke somewhere. Fucking behind his back.
“No, darling. Honestly, it was just a stupid, off-the-cuff remark. I’ve never wanted anyone else. You know I don’t. I’ve had too much wine.”
“Mm. Perhaps, but if you had another cock, would you want him on your own or could I watch?”
Wow. Where did that come from? Does my husband want someone else to screw me? The thought generated damp knickers.
“Er, oh, I er, I’m not sure, I only said it in fun.”
“Yes, I realise that, but if I did organise it, would you let me be a voyeur?”
The conversation had taken on a serious tone. A highly charged, serious, sexual tone.
I’m not sure what I had expected my husband’s reply to be to my comment. Just a laugh and some quip back probably, but not this. It should have been a joke and move on. Now James had me considering it properly, and the thought was soaking my knickers.
“Eh, well I guess so. Would that excite you? Watching another man fuck me?”
“Oh yes, providing you were enjoying it. A real turn on. So, what sort of cock? Bigger than mine; same size?”
“Oh Jeez, I don’t know. I’m not sure it would matter.”
“Oh, come on darling, surely it would?”
“Er, OK then, no, not smaller, same size or bigger. But it would be such a new experience, I’m certain it would be a case of size doesn’t matter.”
A small laugh.
“Ok. What sort of bloke? White, black, oriental, Indian.”
I was getting into this now. I was sure it wouldn’t happen, so it was fun fantasising.
“Er, let’s ring the changes. Anything but white. Sort of Henry Ford in reverse.”
“Now you’ve lost me. What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know that story? Apparently when Ford started mass production, he was asked what colours he was offering and said ‘any as long as it’s black’”.
“Ah. Right. Ok so. Age? young, old, middle-aged?”
My pussy was now sopping wet with this idea. I wished that perhaps it wouldn’t be a fantasy.
“Not old. Not really young either. I’d want someone who knew what they were doing but with plenty of stamina too.”
By now I’d undone the zip on my jeans with my hand down the inside of my knickers, rubbing my clit. My breathing was changing too.
“Ok. Leave it with me.”
Was I actually hearing this? Did he mean it? I asked the question.
“Perhaps.” Was he serious? Was I?
He lent over, kissed me passionately and guided my hand to ‘Roger’.
The fuck was good. That was a huge relief. My asking for a new cock hadn’t upset him, but I still had niggling doubts whether I should have said it. Why had I said it? Did I want another guy fucking me? The jury was out. In many ways I did. In many ways I didn’t. After our lovemaking I told James as much.
“OK, not to worry. I’ll think of a surprise for your birthday I’m sure you’ll love.”
“Thank you, darling.”
In the week leading up to my birthday, I kept worrying about my throw away remark and was still undecided whether I would want to do it if James had taken me seriously. Would he really find a man to fuck me? If so, where? How?
Did I want another man? In a fantasy, oh yes, no doubt. I’d love to experience someone else’s cock inside me, and I admit sometimes, when making love to James, there was another face in my mind. No one special, simply someone else. But in reality, I wasn’t sure.
The other aspect making me damp was James’s comment about watching. In my mind’s eye I could visualise the scene. A huge black cock pounding me while my darling husband watched, wanking himself silly. We’d watched that sort of porn on line but never for one minute had I considered I might be in that situation. I still couldn’t really accept I would be.
I decided the fantasy was exactly that. I needed to come back to reality and expect a watch or something as my surprise present.
I kept asking James what he thought about our conversation but he wouldn’t give me a clue whether he had taken it seriously.
My birthday arrived. Rather than going out James arranged for a takeaway with a few chilled bottles of Pinot. This knotted my stomach. He’d never done that before. He’d always taken me to a restaurant to celebrate. Did it mean the fantasy was about to become a reality? Anxiety and anticipation in equal measure.
After the meal James told me to relax on the sofa, while he popped upstairs. He was gone a while. I heard him on his phone, but didn’t think much about it.
When he came back into the living room, he was wearing a bathrobe which he hadn’t bothered to secure. He was partly erect. I beckoned him over to give him a quick suck. He came and stood in front of me and I was enjoying getting ‘Roger’ to peak size when he stopped me.
“Whoa. Enough for now. You have a long night in front of you. Pop upstairs, part of your birthday present is there. Put it all on then wait for me on the bed.”
On entering the bedroom I saw a wonderful selection of lingerie and a large box laid out along with handcuffs and ankle cuffs attached to the four corners of the bed. I’m the sub tonight then.
As for my presents. Wow. He had bought a racy black bra and knicker set with a wide suspender belt and fully fashioned nylons. I opened the box. Boots! Patent leather, thigh high, with five-inch heels. Oh wow. James always liked me in boots. I could see these would send him wild. I’m tall. Five feet ten. With these on, I’d be over six feet. More suitable for when I’m the Dom, but hey, if they add to my husband’s libido who am I to argue?
I quickly undressed then put on all the goodies he had bought. In doing so, I made a discovery; the knickers were crotchless. I lay down expectantly. I had to lie there for ages. Part of the tease, I thought. He eventually came up and cuffed me to the bed, wrists and ankles to each corner. Then he blindfolded me. That was a surprise; he never blindfolded me. He knew I loved to watch his erection and look into his eyes as he fucked me, but the deprivation of a sense added to my excitement. I wondered what else he had in mind. I found out soon enough. A further surprise. He put ear pods in and switched on my favourite music. Not too loud, but adding to the sensory pleasure and deprivation. Why had he done that? I asked. He told me I’d have to wait to find out. He left the room and went downstairs, although with the music in my ears I had difficulty being sure what was happening. Is that why he had done it? It sounded as though the front door opened and closed. He can’t have gone out, he’s only wearing an undone bathrobe! What is he doing? Does that mean he’s let someone in? Being cuffed I couldn’t touch myself but desperately wanted to. Was this the prelude to my first fuck with another man since my marriage?
Would James really want me screwed by someone else? Or was he teasing me? Pretending? The anticipation and uncertainty were driving my yearning through the roof. Footsteps ascended the stairs. Was he whispering to someone? No, he can’t be, can he? God, even with my earlier assumption of him letting someone in I still wasn’t convinced this would happen. Has he really found someone? A huge tremor swept through me. Was it fear or excitement? I was experiencing both in equal measure. Was a stranger going to fuck me? Was James going to fuck me with someone watching? The thoughts caused me to get wetter. Proving, perhaps, I wanted another cock. I did, but could I? My body was definitely saying yes.
The bedroom door opened. I asked him what was happening.
“You’ll find out.”
There was a movement; was that one or two sets of footsteps across the bedroom floor? Damn this music. The chair in the corner of the room creaked, as though someone had sat in it. Was someone other than James about to fuck me?. The flow of my juices became a torrent.
Someone climbed next to me. Hands roughly grabbed my breasts, groping them. The suddenness of it made me gasp. They ran all over my bra, tracing the straps up to my shoulders, running lightly round the top of the cups, slipping into the cups, tweaking my nipples. The hands pulled my bra down, exposing my breasts. Lips closed over each nipple in turn; a tongue flicked against them. They became rock hard. Is this James? I smelt whiskey on the person’s breath. James rarely drank whiskey and had had none while I was downstairs although I vaguely remembered being surprised to see a bottle on the side table. More confusion in my mind. Concentrate Susie. Does this feel like James? The hands now rubbed oil into my tits. I loved the sensation. James often did it. So it was him? Or had he told someone how I loved that? More uncertainty. A voice whispered in my ear.
“You are such a gorgeous slut.” Was it my husband? With the music in my ears and, because of him whispering, doubt still filled my head. The erotic massage sent me over the edge. If it wasn’t James then who? The hardness was next to me, his fingers disappearing inside my soaking wet cunt. That almost convinced me it was James, the fingers felt familiar. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed.
The fingers withdrew. The body get off the bed. There was movement around the room but with these damn ear buds I couldn’t pinpoint anything.
Someone was next to me again. Was it the same person? A cock brushed against my legs as the person lifted themselves over, lying between my open legs. I was so wet they had no trouble sinking their cock into me. Through the open crotch of my new knickers. A cock encased in a condom. Soon I was bucking hard, and I came. Did they? This whole thing was so frustrating. They may have come, but with my orgasm and with them wearing a rubber, yet again I wasn’t sure. Surely it had to be James. Would he have let someone fuck me and come inside me even if they had a condom on?
The blindfold and earphones totally disorientated me making me unsure about anything. God, James’s cock must have been in me thousands of times. Surely I’d know the feeling? But I couldn’t be sure. The bloody condom. We hadn’t used one in years. It was ribbed, so the sensation was different. I was willing it to be someone else when it may only be my husband.
Silence until the person had left my side.
“Don’t worry.” Definitely James’s voice, “that’s not the last fuck you will get tonight.”
The indecision continued. The voice came from the opposite side of the bed to where whoever had fucked me had got off, but had he walked round? Surely it was James that had screwed me? It felt like him. Didn’t it? Was that wishful thinking? Wishful which way? Husband or stranger? God, someone else must be here or was he saying he wanted to do me again himself? Has someone watched James fuck me? I hoped someone else was there. The thought of a stranger witnessing our intimate moments blew my mind. The thought of a stranger’s cock entering me even more so.
With much rustling around and movement I had difficulty working out exactly what was happening. Then another hand was on me, but the feeling was strange, It took a while to work it out. Whoever it was wore leather gloves. Why? Those hands roamed over me, exploring every part of me.
The hands roughly pulled my bra straps off my shoulders then forced themselves under me undoing the clasps. With my wrists tied they can’t be taking it off so what was the plan? They pushed the bra over my head out of the way. They then slapped my tits.
God, was it James messing around or someone else? “Who is it? James, who’s slapping me? For Christ’s sake, tell me.” No answer. The hand left me.
The gloved fingers entered my cunt and frigged me. I was moaning and screaming. God if the whole local football team was in here right now I would have screwed every last one of them.
The person climbed off. “James who is he?”
“Who says it’s a he?”
God, a woman? Didn’t smell feminine but given the state of excitement I was in I couldn’t be sure about anything. Someone was again pushing their gloved hand into my pussy and frigging me hard. My hips came up as I started to orgasm while their other hand slid under me, another gloved finger explored my anus, not so gently pushing in. That was it, with a huge scream I came and came and came. More movement. A body getting off the bed, another getting on. Could it be the same person again? Shit. Am I being gang banged? Did I mind? The answer to the first question; I had no idea. The answer to the second; no, I most definitely didn’t mind.
Something brushed my face. Another cock in a condom. Another or the same one? I opened my mouth to take it in. I sucked hard. It was flavoured. A chocolate taste. James knows I have a weakness for chocolate. A new experience. It withdrew. A new sensation. Something different being pushed into my pussy. Firm but with a weird softness. Whatever it was, it was doing a wonderful job of keeping me on the edge of erupting again. How many times had I already come? Don’t know. Don’t care. Someone removed the object from my pussy and I felt something against my mouth. I opened it. Chocolate again. The flavour mixed with the scent of sex. Realisation dawned. I just been fucked by a chocolate bar! I couldn’t eat it. I was too high on my sexual rocket.
A cock touched my pussy lips. I hoped I’d be able to tell if it belonged to James but it was in a ribbed condom again making the sensation so different. I didn’t know. Could James have got erect again so quickly with the stimulus of the boots and everything? Or hadn’t he been the first one?
The cock continued thrusting into me, banging me hard and fast. In no time I was bucking and coming to yet another orgasm.
I slowly recovered my senses realising the owner of the cock had risen from the bed; another body replaced them. Or the same one. A hand, this time not in a glove, gently caressed me and a voice whispered in my ear.
“Happy birthday Darling. Did you enjoy that?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes.”
I asked him to take the blindfold off to let me see who had fucked me.
“Not yet,” he said. He climbed off the bed, leaving the room. Again the front door opened and closed. James returned taking off the blindfold, freeing the cuffs and presenting me with a glass of bubbly.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Who?” he replied, all innocently.
“The person here,” I said. “There was someone else here wasn’t there?”
“Mm, possibly, possibly not, but if you are right perhaps it’s best you don’t know who! Might have been a neighbour. Or a friend of mine. Or yours. Or even perhaps a stranger I’d met in the pub and asked if he wanted to screw you for a hundred quid!”
Hell, that last thought was so erotic, me being screwed for cash! He refused to tell me – the bastard! I can’t be sure there was anyone. Playing it back in my mind it could have all been James, but the thought it was possibly (or is that probably?) someone else is keeping me in damp knickers even now.
TWO DAYS LATER:
He still hasn’t told me. It may be a man I know, or a stranger or him! Or even a woman with the gloved hands. Or a man and a woman. James could have screwed me twice. Someone could have watched us fuck. Grrr! What a turn on though. I hope (at least I think I do) it was someone else. I will be carefully looking at everyone I meet now, to judge whether they are looking at me differently!
James has promised to tell me this coming weekend the truth, so I’ve got a whole week of not knowing. It’s driving me mad! I might withhold my favours till he tells me. Should I?
Hugs, Susie xxxxxxxxx