The Birthday Present

The text message she sends me at work is explicit: "Come straight home. Billy's with Mom for the night. Be a good sport and follow all the instructions carefully." I don't know what to think. It's my birthday, but we celebrated it the night before with an expensive dinner at a good restaurant, a bottle of champagne and, after Billy went to bed, some pretty good head.

I drive the car into the garage. There's a Post-It note on the hall door. "Go straight to the kitchen. Make sure to lock up." A little heart drawn at the bottom of the note. I follow instructions, double checking to make sure the burglar alarm is on.

On the kitchen workbench I find a glass of water, a shot of Jack Daniels Black Label straight up, and two yellow Cialis tablets. I only take the drug occasionally, and my usual dose is only one. But the note next to them is explicit: "Take both of these and go to the GUEST bathroom. " Another little heart at the bottom of the note. I take the pills with a mouthful of water and chase them with the bourbon. Damn, I think. Many more instructions like this, and it's going to be a short night.

On the bathroom door, yet another note: "Take a shower." There's a fresh towel on the towel rack, a fresh washcloth atop the shower head, and a new bar of soap in the soap dish. On the wall next to the soap dish is another Post-It: "Put on the cock ring, and edge, but don't get off." Sure enough, our favorite cock ring is next to the Dove in the soap dish. It was an expensive, bespoke gift from my wife on the occasion of our 20th anniversary, 14 carat gold engraved with Elven runes. Just the sight of it makes me begin to swell. I work it down to the very bottom of my wet cock, wash my hair, and proceed to edge myself with hot soapy water. The Cialis is starting to work; the resulting erection is massive and rock hard, but following instructions, I don't let myself come.

I get out of the shower and towel off, my massive boner bobbing in front of me. On the mirror, another note: "Put on the robe behind the door." I find it a new black silk kimono, knee-length, hanging there. So this is my birthday present, I think; Nice. Pinned to the robe; "No, this is NOT your birthday present." I put it on. My bright red dickhead peaks out from between its folds.

Under the robe, sticking to the bathroom door, yet another note. "Go to the dining room. Read."

The dining room curtains are closed. A single candle burns on the table, next to a single, full-blown red rose in a stem vase. Under the candle I find a letter, carefully handwritten. Rose pedals are strewn across the table. I sit and read.

"My Dearest:

"Tonight, we cross the final barrier between us.

"For years you've wanted to own my body completely, but I've always resisted. I've been afraid. So I've been training, stretching and preparing myself. Look at what's on the chair across the table from you."

I walk around the table and pull out the chair. I'm astonished to find a collection of dildos, ranging in size from a four-inch hot dog to an eight-inch length of unsliced bologna. They're frighteningly realistic, gnarly with thick veins. I touch them. They're hard rubber, not squishy silicone.

The letter continues:

"I've been riding these with my ass every day for months, stretching myself until I can just barely handle the biggest one. I finally feel that I'm ready. Tonight, I'm giving you what you've always wanted. I no longer fear the pain. I welcome it. It's a price I'll gladly pay to be completely used by you.

"For years I've been your partner in all things; your wife, your ally, the mother of your child, your companion, your submissive little whipping girl, your sex slave, and your enthusiastic cock sucker. Now I want to be your butt slut.

"Come straight to the bedroom. Finish chaining me down. Then get on top of me and fuck my ass hard. I want you to fuck me deep in the ass until you fill me with cum. Pay no attention at all to my responses; this scene is totally for you, my dearest, darling love and master."

I stand up and open the robe to let my cock swing unobstructed. I've never had a bigger, harder erection; the foreskin is as tight as a drumhead. The veins are throbbing, and I can feel a pulse in my dickhead. I run my finger around the cock ring, feeling the runes. I've been told that they translate as, "The size of Odin, the potency of Thor, for all ages." They seem to be working. Or maybe it's the overdose of Cialis.

I walk, cock bobbing, down the hall to the master bedroom and quietly open the door. The room is warm. Candles on the dresser and nightstands bathe her nude, oiled body. She's lying face down on the bed, arms and legs spread wide. She's replaced the white cotton sheets for black satin; two black pillows under her hips elevate her ass. She's wearing her favorite black leather hood. It covers her eyes, ears and mouth, and she has a black ball gag between her teeth. She's already fastened the cuffs securing her ankles and left wrist to the straps that stretch across the bed. As instructed, I fasten the right cuff and ensure that all the straps are tight.

My cock is rock hard, throbbing, and as sensitive as an eyeball. I smear it with a generous handful of K-Y jelly from a tube on the nightstand and kneel between her open thighs. Spreading her tight, yoga-trained ass cheeks with the fingers of my left hand, I find her brown rosebud with my right and insert one lubed finger. She groans and wiggles. I replace the finger with two, then three. She raises her ass to meet my ministrations, butt muscles quivering. Her sphincter muscles clench and relax, clench and relax, as if trying to suck my fingers further in. The feeling makes my blood boil.

I put my dickhead against her brown beauty and push hard. She tenses and resists, then suddenly relaxes and I'm in balls deep and I hear her scream into the ball gag. My cock feels every hot, wet fold of her lower colon.

I begin riding her; long, fast, hard strokes. Per standing instructions, she's braided her long hair and put it up in a bun so I can admire the nape of her neck as it becomes flushed and wet. Her long muscular back flexes as she battles contradictory impulses; to escape the pounding, or to augment it with her own thrusting. I hear her gibbering into the ball gag and it's hallucinatory.

I have my first orgasm, but it provides no release. The muscles of my urethra spasm without effect; they cannot push cum past the cock ring. The spasms go on and on, Hot red flashes run up my spine. I'm in a frenzy, riding her ass like a crazed chimp, struggling desperately to deposit my ever-larger load deep in her body. After what feels like an eternity, but must have been no more than fifteen minutes, I pull out and hold my throbbing cock in my left hand while with my right thumb I press down hard on the cock ring. This opens the urethra just enough to allow a dribble of cum to escape; partial release. I try to work the ring off my cock, but it's hopeless. It's as if the magic runes have it locked it in place. Her hot tunnel gapes invitingly so I plunge back in. And so the two of us continue for hours, racked by waves of pain and pleasure in equal measure.

It is one of those magical nights that seem to last for a lifetime. In the morning, under a cold shower, I finally manage to work the cock ring off, groaning and cursing all the while. My wife laughs at me as she sits on the pot, gingerly sliding Preparation H suppositories into her abused asshole. Later, we laugh over a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs -- I sit at the breakfast bar, she stands next to it -- and discuss our next adventures.

In some way our life together has changed, and it is beautiful.