The Throne Pt. 01: Her Birthday

I knew he was there before he announced it. Raising my head, I wrapped my hand around his cockhead, my warm soft palm tighter and as slippery as the inside of my cunt. Continuing the same rhythm, I watched the first great squirt gush with my downstroke. Both hands worked to draw another and another and another gout of his ejaculation.

Jim writhed and moaned and called my name, unconcerned with the goo that I painted on his torso. As good as any porn money shot, I was both surprised and gratified to see the accumulation. He had been finishing my birthday present and arranging things since we last screwed Thursday morning. Last night certainly filled his tanks; for the last half hour, I bloated them further with my teasing and edging.

Weak spurts and dribbles continued as I gently milked him while he sighed. Stopping when there was no more to give, I surveyed the output, from the puddle on his belly to the traces that shot as high as his neck.

First slurping the reservoir, I licked it clean, spiraling out to locate any errant drops. Working from inside out and bottom to top, I snarfed up the remaining rivulets until I was sure I had it all. Jim was getting ticklish by the time I finished, so I climbed on top of him, my warm softness dispelling any residual dampness.

Our growling stomachs finally made us get out of bed and get dressed. Jim was taking me to a fancy brunch before a matinee at the ballet! It wasn't his favorite thing to do, but he knew how much I loved it.

I probably had more champagne with my eggs than I should have, so was definitely in high spirits for the performance. Together with my elevated libido, it made the whole experience more erotic--so many beautiful people, practically naked with their skin-tight costumes.

Watching men with athletic bodies and prominent bulges gracefully and energetically prance about wasn't the only appeal of ballet for me, but it added to the experience. It didn't matter that the dancers often preferred their own sex. In my mind, they were all trying to earn the affection of a now-forty suburban married woman.

The story in this ballet could have been a romance novel. The hero Stefan and his brother Leif are hunting when they encounter the beautiful Ingrid. Stefan and Ingrid fall in love; their passionate dance is like sex, only more artistic. The idyllic scene is disrupted when the evil king's soldiers attack. Stefan falls mortally wounded; the injured Leif and Ingrid barely escape.

In Act II, on the run to avoid the soldiers, Leif and Ingrid leave their bloody clothes, making it look like they died and their bodies were taken by animals. Their shared mourning of the death of her lover and his brother brings them closer. Eventually, they acknowledge their growing love.

Act III reveals that Stefan had been revived by a wizard, whose daughter Frida nurses him back to health. Stefan returns to look for his love and his brother only to discover their staged scene. Despairing that they are dead, he stays with the wizard, eventually growing fond of Frida.

The surprising reunion that starts Act IV is both joyous and star-crossed. Ingrid is torn between her first love and her current lover. Leif and Stefan both struggle with their loyalty to their sibling and their heart's desire. Blood and true love triumph and Stefan and Ingrid are reunited.

The final act has them confront the evil king. Leif ultimately sacrifices himself to save them and vanquish the king. Even Jim teared up at their sorrowful dance, concluding with a bittersweet reprise of their earlier pas de deux.

When the curtain was finally lowered after all the ovations, I turned to hug and kiss my husband. We stood interlocked for so long, the patrons on the other side of him exited the row the other way.

We stopped for dessert on the way home. Although he teased that he might do it, Jim knew better than to have them stick a candle in it and sing for me. He also knew how grateful I was going to be when we got home and didn't want to risk it for a laugh.

"Before your birthday weekend is over," he said as we entered our home, "I should finish showing you the features of your throne."

I couldn't imagine what more there could be, but like a kid who discovers one more present under the Christmas tree, I was eager to find out. This time, he didn't have me remove my dress before I sat down.

Jim drew my attention to a low cabinet next to the throne. "I built this to have all your accessories and supplies handy," he explained, opening the top drawer. Inside was a selection of dildos, vibrators, lube, and other fun items.

Picking up a remote control, he demonstrated it. "This will allow the back to recline. These control the leg rests." My throne was also an easy chair!

He drew out a large, cordless, wand vibrator that looked new. Standing in front of me, he bowed and presented it, saying "A scepter for my queen."

On the handle, just below the head, was affixed a gold band that was engraved Queen Pam the First and Only. Taking the implement, for a long moment, I could only gaze at my husband with eyes of teary love. He returned the look.

My first inclination was to put it down, drag him to the bedroom, and show him how grateful I was for the whole birthday weekend. But sitting on the throne holding my scepter inspired a different idea. Sliding to the edge of the seat, I lifted the hem of my dress to my waist.

"Place thy face between the royal thighs," I commanded. We exchanged a quick glance as we both noticed he was still wearing his suit and tie. My nod confirmed my intentions. As he knelt and leaned to rest his mouth against my pantyhose-and-panty-clad crotch, I realized it was probably a little funky given the afternoon of stimulation at the ballet. With my plan taking shape, it would no doubt soon be refreshed. He did not waste his proximity to my private parts and was nuzzling me gently.

Tapping his shoulders with the scepter, I proclaimed, "I dub thee Sir Jim, Tender of the Royal Twat and Penetrator of the Queen's Pussy." If I had been less horny and had more time to think, I might have come up with something more poetic.

"Rise, sir knight, and display thy sword to prove thy worthiness of this honor," I ordered. As he stood and dropped his trousers, I raised up enough to push my undergarments to my ankles.

Reaching for his cock, I pulled him close, bending to lick the head. I love the feel of it pulsing in my hand as it expands while I pump it. With a giggle, I realized I was still holding my scepter; setting it down freed my hand to caress his balls.

"An impressive weapon indeed," I praised it before taking it as deep as the restricted angle would allow. Nonetheless, mouth and hands soon had it hard and slippery. By the time I was able to squeeze some precum out of it, I could feel my own fluids flowing.

Usually, comfort and practicality guide our sexual endeavors, but at that moment, I wanted Jim so badly, I didn't want to wait an extra second. Lying back and spreading my knees as much as I could with my ankles still pantied together, I pleaded, "Show thy fealty and claim thy reward!"

Eyes wide, my husband glanced at my glistening folds. I pulled on his penis to show I needed no oral warmup. Similarly constrained by his pants, he leaned forward, gripping the arms of the throne to align himself. Our harmonized groans as he entered me indicated our passion outweighed any awkwardness.

It was strange how being mostly clothed changed the experience. Without the distraction of skin and other tender parts, our lust was focused on our genitals and our mouths which had found each other. In that position, there was little for me to do besides accept his thrusts, and he delivered them with increasing force and speed.

The fuel I had accumulated through the afternoon was ignited and my body burned with excitement. Jim seemed to unleash himself, unlike his usual thoughtful lovemaking. My fingers gripped his ass, feeling his strength.

"That's what I need," I encouraged, not wanting to change a thing. "You fuck me so well." He kept going and I squirmed with the sweet shock of each impact.

"So good, so good," was all I could gasp as the anticipation took my breath. It was only after Jim slowed down for a second time that I realized he might be waiting for a cue from me.

"You're gonna make me cum," I sang, but it was already a foregone conclusion. My words triggered another burst of speed.

Jim's growl became a moan and I knew he too had reached the brink. He danced erratically as the waves of pleasure disrupted his rhythm. I went rigid as the ecstasy washed over me. Disregarding the inconvenience of our clothing and configuration, two souls glowed and merged in rapture.

He slumped on top of me and we lay that way until the afterglow faded.

"Happy birthday to me!" I sighed as he stood up. "You always treat me like your queen."

We both pulled our clothes up enough to waddle our way to our bedroom, where we undressed and climbed into bed. Although our gonads were sated, we savored the feel of our intertwined bodies as we fell asleep.