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.
