Today was her birthday, and he had arranged a surprise. They would spend the night together, which was a surprise in itself. With their commitments at home, getting together was often a tricky proposition, and she hadn't even held out hope that they could link up on her birthday. But her husband seemed blasé about the special day. And why not? It wasn't his birthday, and he had been around for several of hers anyway. Yawn, yawn. She sensed his nonchalance and seized the opportunity.
She would be celebrating with her aunt, she told him. Her aunt. Her best friend. Her confidante. Her cover story. Meanwhile, he had concocted an overnight business trip, and nobody suspected a thing.
He booked a hotel room. It would be their first birthday together, one of those romantic milestones that seem to mean something when it arrives, but grows less important when the relationship endures. Still, she was excited. It's where she wanted to be.
They had become close in a short time. She was unlike any woman he had ever met, and had sensed that from the start. First, she was this slightly shy girlie-girl in a tomboy body. "Kind of submissive" was how she had described herself. She wasn't full of herself, and he was amazed by that. She was beautiful, but didn't really think so. She was sexy, but laughed at the idea of it. He loved her breasts. She said they were maybe too small. He liked her butt.
She made him laugh. She made him feel needed and wanted, and he loved that. She made him feel like a terrific lover, and he really loved that. She just didn't know what he knew: It was easy to be a great lover for her. She was loving and sensitive, soft and responsive, and promised to become even more so as she relaxed with him.
They met at the hotel and quickly checked in. Once the hotel room's door closed, he grabbed her and kissed her. God, he loved to kiss her. She had full, soft lips that he could make love to all night. He pulled her tongue into his mouth. He could do this all night. Softly, he sucked on her bottom lip, then traced her mouth with his tongue as he cradled her face in his hands. He peeked at her as they kissed and, with her eyes closed, admired her beauty. A simple beauty. Girl-next-door beauty. How-did-I-get-so-lucky beauty.
"Here," he whispered in her ear. "I want you to open one of your presents."
He handed her a box. Victoria Secret. She smiled. But in this box was something different, something she would never buy for herself -- a silk pajama oufit with a spaghetti string top and cute little shorts that would show off her cute butt. She giggled at the thought of putting her butt in the PJs.
"Come on, you want me to wear these?" she said.
"Oh, yeah," he replied. "Definitely."
She slipped into the bathroom, then slipped into the outfit. She looked great in the satiny blue. It matched her eyes.
The butt looked great in the outfit, just as he knew it would, but when he had bought it, he realized it would accent another feature: Her perky breasts. The nipples, always erect, poked from beneath the top. He loved the way it draped on them. He posed her in front of the mirror and, from behind, gently caressed her breasts from outside the top as he kissed her neck. She moaned quietly. He slid his hands underneath the top and gently touched her nipples.
Within seconds, she was wet. He slipped his hand inside her shorts to see. He loved how her wetness felt on his fingers. When they weren't together, he daydreamed about it. Actually, he daydreamed about almost everything about her: How she smelled, how she tasted, how warm and wet she felt when he first slid inside her and could feel every inch of her on his cock. All of it he had memorized, along with the small scar on her left breast, how delicious she looked in jeans, her smile, her moans, the way she brought a pillow to her mouth when she was about to cum, the way her glasses sat on her nose.
He teased her clit with his finger. It had taken a few times together, but he finally had found out how she liked to be touched there -- gently and slowly, as if you were trying to get the finger as close to her clit as you could without touching it. He loved doing the same thing with his tongue, but sometimes it was difficult keeping it on her clit as she writhed on the bed. She was so wet his finger glided effortlessly over her clit.
With his hand in her shorts from behind her, she was about to cum while standing up. Her knees were buckling. Her breathing getting shorter. She was there, right on the edge.
"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered.
"Yes," she said in a sigh. "Yessssssss."
He knew she was close. Oh, so close. It made him hard.
"Ohhhhhh," she said. She came, harder and longer than usual. Then she turned around, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
There was a knock on the hotel door.
"Who could that be?" she asked.
"Your birthday present," he said.
She looked at him with a "Huh?" look, her nose crinkled, one eyebrow raised. "What do you mean, my birthday present?"
"Answer the door," he said.
"In this?" she said.
"Yes," he said. "It's okay. Trust me."
On the other side of the door was Holly, a dancer at a local go-go bar. On a date, they had gone together, more for her curiosity than anything else. But he had used the occasion to scout the dancers and let the dancers scout her. When she had gone to the ladies' room, Holly had come by their table.
"What do you think of her," he asked.
"She's gorgeous," Holly said.
