Anniversary Present For Her

Years of same old routine.

Same birthday tradition, same tired passion. A fancy dinner. A few glasses of wine. A flicker of heat between the sheets that never quite became fire. But I knew her too well--too deeply. I saw it in the way her eyes lingered in the mirror just a second too long... in the way her fingers hesitated at the hem of her dress like they were aching to be undone by someone who wasn't me.

Tonight, I'd give her that someone.

We barely made it through the bedroom door before I took her mouth, devouring it with a hunger I'd denied too long. Clothes peeled off in slow, aching strips. Tongues bruised. Fingernails scratched. But I wasn't rushing--not this time.

This night wasn't like the others.

I pinned her wrists to the headboard and bound them with the velvet curtain ropes--tight, inescapable. Her breath caught. The silk blindfold followed, stealing her sight, heightening everything else.

She gasped as my fingers trailed down her bare arms, featherlight, teasing. I skimmed past her breasts, her stomach... stopping just before the place she ached for most.

"Trust me," I whispered.

She trembled.

Then I stepped away.

The sudden absence left her gasping--lips parted, thighs twitching, body straining against the rope. The tension was electric, raw. I let her sit in it, in the dark, in the not-knowing.

Then--the soft click of the bathroom door.

A figure emerged.

Young. Barely nineteen. His body lean and hungry. Chiseled. He wore nothing but a black bowtie and a tight, unforgiving thong that did little to hide his throbbing erection.

Her gift.

I stepped beside him, my lips brushing his ear. "Slow. Tease her. Make her need you."

He nodded.

She lay waiting--helpless, blindfolded, burning.

Then, his hands--tracing up her thighs like silk on fire.

She sucked in a breath. "Baby...?"

I smiled. "It's your birthday. Don't think--just feel."

And then--his mouth.

When his lips touched her, she gasped. Her hips lifted off the bed, instinctive, desperate. His tongue--young and unrelenting--traced circles around her clit, slow and precise.

She moaned. "God, baby..."

I chuckled darkly. Not your baby.

She didn't know it wasn't me.

Blindfolded, bound, wide open--she thought it was me licking her, me slipping two fingers inside her, curling just right until she sobbed. I watched from the edge of the bed, stroking myself slowly as he devoured her like a starving man.

She was unraveling, her body rocking into his face, moaning, begging. Her orgasm ripped through her like a wave, her thighs trembling around his head, her breath ragged.

Still, I wasn't done.

I passed him the vibrator. He pressed it to her soaked center, not missing a beat. Her back arched. Her voice broke. I could see her teetering on the edge again--wrecked, ruined, radiant.

And then... she came again, harder.

She was a mess of moans and slick, trembling limbs.

That's when I guided him toward her mouth.

I leaned in, whispering against her ear, "Open that pretty mouth for me."

She obeyed.

But it wasn't my cock that brushed her lips.

He stepped forward, silent. She tasted him, took him in slowly, her tongue curling instinctively. Her mouth moved with practiced hunger, and I knew the second she realized something was different--the shape, the size, the scent.

But she didn't stop.

She chose to continue.

He groaned as she worked him, head bobbing, lips wrapped tight around his shaft. Her moans vibrated through him, making his legs tremble. I stood beside her, hard and aching, and guided his hand to stroke me. His grip was eager, unsure, but willing.

He began to thrust--slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.

I teased her nipples, pinching until she cried out around his cock. Her breath hitched. She tried to speak but choked instead on another inch of him.

"You like this?" I growled into her ear. "Being used like this?"

She nodded frantically, throat full, helplessly aroused.

He fucked her mouth faster now, wet sounds echoing, his fingers threading through her hair, holding her in place. When he came, it was sudden, hot, thick--streaming down her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold, her body going rigid as she swallowed.

Still, she didn't stop.

I leaned down, lips brushing her temple. "That wasn't me."

She froze.

Her lips parted. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts.

"You just swallowed another man's cum," I whispered. "Happy birthday, my love."

She gasped--shocked, raw--but her thighs rubbed together. Her skin flushed. She was trembling again.

Wanting more.

Needing it.

I slid behind her, pressing into her dripping folds. She was soaked. Ravenous.

"You still trust me?"

She nodded--slower, but sure.

"Good," I whispered, and buried myself inside her in one smooth, punishing thrust.

She screamed.

Her hips moved to meet mine, wild and desperate. She clung to the ropes, body bucking under me, and cried out over and over. "Fuck--yes, baby--this is the best fuck of my life!"

I tore the blindfold away.

She blinked--and saw him lying beside her, naked, spent. Her eyes darkened with hunger. She reached out, pulling him close, kissing him hard. Her hand found his cock, now semi-hard, and began to stroke him back to life.

I growled, still driving into her. "You like your gift?"

She turned her head to look at me, sweat glistening down her cheek. "He's thick. Bigger. I love him."

She licked her lips. "I want to ride him... while you watch."

Blood surged to my cock, and I lost control. I grabbed her hips, slammed deeper, harder, until her walls clenched and I exploded inside her with a guttural groan.

She collapsed forward, panting, dripping.

But the night wasn't over.

And we all knew it.

She collapsed on the sheets—panting, flushed, dripping with cum. Mine still leaking from between her thighs, his drying on her lips. Her body trembled, used and radiant. But her eyes… they burned. Starved.

She wasn’t done.

Neither was I.

“Get on top of him,” I said, low and commanding.

She moved instantly—like her body was on autopilot. Glowing, glistening, still marked by everything we’d done, she climbed over him and straddled his lap. Her breath caught as she lowered herself onto him, inch by thick inch stretching her open again.

Her mouth fell open. Her hands planted flat on his chest.

She started to ride.

Slow at first. Deliberate. Like she was savoring him. Then—faster. Her rhythm turned hungry, like she was chasing something only he could give her. Her hips slapped against his thighs, her breasts bouncing, her moans deeper now.

“Good girl,” I murmured, standing beside the bed, stroking myself to the sight. “Take every bit of him.”

She did.

Without shame. Without hesitation.

“Tell me,” I said. “Do you like your birthday gift?”

She didn’t answer.

So I reached down, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her head back just enough to make her gasp.

“Answer me.”

She moaned, “Yes… yes—I love it.”

“Why?” I growled.

“He’s so big,” she gasped, hips grinding into him, making herself take it deeper. “I feel full… stretched… it’s perfect.”

She sounded delirious. Grateful. Like this was the first time her body had been truly fed.

I moved behind her, palms sliding down her waist, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. “You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

She nodded, breath ragged. “I wanted to feel used… like I matter.”

That line.

That fucking line.

I grabbed her tighter, leaned in close to her ear. “You’re going to remember this every time you touch yourself. You’re going to remember how he felt. How I watched you ride him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.”

She let out a sound I’d never heard from her—part moan, part sob, all desire.

He grabbed her waist now, thrusting up into her, meeting her strokes, eyes locked on mine—seeking approval.

He had it.

I moved in front of her, stroking myself slowly, then slid my cock against her lips.

“Clean me up.”

She obeyed. Lips parted, tongue eager, her mouth soft and welcoming. She sucked me in as he fucked her harder from beneath.

She moaned around me, drooling a little, lost in the moment—his cock buried inside her, mine sliding between her lips.

She looked wrecked. But not broken. Alive.

Power surged through me.

I grabbed her jaw. “You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

She moaned again, eyes fluttering shut.

Then—he groaned.

And she felt it.

The way his hands gripped tighter. The way his rhythm faltered just before his release. The moment he pulsed deep inside her.

And she came.

Again.

Just from that.

A raw, full-body orgasm that shook her to her core. Her body shuddered, soaking him, milking him.

She collapsed onto his chest, breathing hard, her lips still touching the tip of my cock.

The ropes came off.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to.

The way she clung to both of us told me everything.

She’d never forget this night.

And I wasn't done giving her more to remember.