The Gift Her Birthday Gift

The ink was still wet on my electrical engineering degree when I quit my job at a well known international package distribution company. Over the previous two months rumors of my wife 'in flagrante delicto' with one of our best friends at his going away party, with dozens of my co-workers in attendance, had quickly spread at work. Soon we were on the A-list for every party thrown by our ever-growing circle of friends, and the lines to dance with (and fondle) my wife became increasing more awkward. I was immediately hired as a system design engineer for the company that had designed and installed the conveyer system in which I had previously been in charge of the maintenance and repair of, second shift, at the company I had just left.

In the months following the party, right before I quit, we had successfully played our Game four times; the first was a month later at my wife's best friends wedding reception, and then the next three weeks in a row after my wife had decided that she really enjoyed it. Now we were both working days; with me in a new job and my wife having Wednesdays off, it was a lot easier to schedule quality time for our newly upgraded Game. My first customer call for my new employer was just down the road from a little bar that our best friend and I had frequented, years before I met my wife, working as laborers for a construction contractor at a nearby military logistical base. Back then we had been on a first name basis with the owner and bartender, Charlie. On a whim I stopped in for a drink after I'd finished my call and discovered that he was still there and that he remembered me, and our best friend; and our partying!

We reminisced for nearly two hours, during which Charlie told me that his nephew Rod was there every Wednesday evening, and usually stayed till closing. Rod, whose father owned the construction company, was the foreman Jeff and I had worked for back on the construction site and Rod had turned us onto the bar. We became friends and were invited to join Rod at his father's country club. Neither one of us had ever played golf, much less owned a set of clubs, but we played tennis there maybe a half dozen times. It was in the men's shower, after a match, that we discovered why everyone called him Rod when his name was Broderick. It wasn't an abbreviation for Broderick as I thought. It was because of his dick! Rod was the proud owner of the biggest cock I have ever seen, and you see a lot of them in the service. We're talking almost John Holmes territory - almost!

I was sitting in Charlie's when I first hatched the plan. My wife's Twenty-second birthday was almost two months away and if Rod hadn't let his body go to hell I was thinking that he would be the perfect gift. The following Wednesday night, after a meeting with that same customer, I drove over to Charlie's and walked in just after six. I spotted Rod right away and headed to the far end of the 'L' shaped bar where he was seated, next to the wall. He spotted me, jumped up, and greeted me warmly. Rod was a couple of years older than my thirty-four, a few inches shorter than my 6'-3" but about the same weight, single and, to be honest, solid as a rock and in much better shape than I was. It turned out that Rods uncle had mentioned that I'd been in and he hoped that I would be by to see him. We had a repeat of my reunion with Charlie, except for taking turns buying each other beers. Charlie had refused to let me pay for anything. So Rod and I sat and reminisced, until almost eight o'clock when I jumped up and told him that I had to get going.

Let me pause now to give you the requisite description of my wife and get that out of the way. My wife is half french and half Vietnamese. She's tall, five foot nine inches tall in thigh high stockings, but with a small muscular frame, but not skinny; still weighs a pound or two one way or the other of one hundred and forty pounds; and fills a 34C-cup on the rare non-working occasions when she wears a bra.. Her hair is usually waist long and naturally jet black. However, she's changed colors so many times over the years that I'm pretty sure her roots are confused as to what color they really were. During this time she was a silver blonde.

I returned to Charlie's every Wednesday for the next month, always careful to leave by eight o'clock. After the second or third time I rushed out concerned with being late Rod's curiosity finally got the best of him and the next time I came in he pressed me for where I was off to in such a rush each week. As far as anyone at Charlie's was concerned I was single, so I made Rod work it out of me about the beautiful young married nymphomaniac that I had been screwing every Wednesday night on a regular basis. (Which is mostly all true! My wife is beautiful and was young at the time, at a month shy of her twenty-second birthday. She is married, to me; and, although maybe not technically a nympho, she does loves sex, and lots of it! So either Charlie must have overheard me talking about the 'beautiful young married nympho or Rod must have said something about it to him; because Charlie warned me to make sure that she never met their well-endowed resident cocksman, indicating Rod with a nod of the head. Rod laughed and said not to believe him, because he wasn't a resident, he lived in Silverado! Then he went on to remind Charlie about how Jeff and I used to party; all the different women, and how we were almost always stoned! I laughed and ordered us each a beer. For the next hour before I left, each time I changed the subject to baseball or the NBA season that had ended recently, the Washington Bullets had won in seven games, Rod would turn it back to the beautiful young married nympho that I was seeing.

The following Wednesday, as soon as I sat down, Rod started in with the questions.

"When did he get to meet my beautiful young married nympho?"

"I don't know."

Why don't I bring her to Charlie's?"

"I don't know."

"Is there any reason you don't want me to meet her?"

"No!" (Just the opposite!)

"You mean to say that her husband lets her go out on her own?"

"Yeah, he's quite well off and a lot older than her. He gives her one night a week to 'sow her oats' as he puts it."

There were more, but you have the gist of the evening, until I finally told him that I was going to Chicago for a two week business trip (A Working Vacation where my new boss paid for my wife to fly in and meet me) but maybe when I got back. By now it was close enough to eight that I could get away from the constant bombardment of questions and left it at "maybe I'll have her meet me here when I get back.'

Fast-forward to after my business trip. My wife picked me up at the Ontario airport late on Saturday afternoon, the day after my programming class in Chicago had ended. I had called to check on her every evening as soon as I got back to my hotel after the class was over. It had taken until the middle of the week after she'd flown home from Chicago before her ass and pussy were even close to normal again after what Steve had done. I had even offered to cancel our plans at Charlie's for her birthday after we got home and I saw the way she was walking. My wife insisted that she would be okay; but then she asked that I take it easy when we got in bed that night, and then again on Sunday morning. It wasn't until Tuesday evening of the week before her birthday when I got home from work and she met me at the door naked, a first, that I felt she really was feeling okay.

It was now three weeks since I'd been back to Charlie's.

No sooner had I sat down than Rod asked "So is she coming?"

"Who?" I ask, knowing who he was talking about. I just didn't want to make it easy for him.

"That beautiful young married nympho you've been banging."

"Oh, she'd already made plans for us tonight, since I haven't seen her in three weeks."

"Damn! That's too bad" Rod said, and swung back towards the bar, looking like a kid whose dog had just died.

"But she'll be here next week," I said, then I took a long pull on my beer.

So now the day of my wife's twenty-second birthday finally arrives; Wednesday July 26, 1978. All day at work, every time I thought about her and Rod, I got a hard-on. Right before I went out to lunch I called her at home to wish her a happy birthday again. Her mother and older sister had just arrived to take her out to lunch so we didn't talk long, but she thanked me for the bracelet and Grateful Dead tickets. I had to explain that the gold chain, with its large gold charm of the word "YES" was an anklet. I'd left her gifts, wrapped in gold foil paper and a red bow, next to the coffee pot where I was sure she would find them after I left. At least the tickets were something she could show her family. The tickets were to see the Grateful Dead at Winterland in San Francisco towards the end of October.

Once I got home from work I couldn't leave my wife alone. Maybe it was because of my now constant erection. She had obviously given the evening some thought because she had called me a cab so we wouldn't have to worry about having two vehicles at the bar I showered and then got dressed while my wife filled the tub. When I walked back into the master bath she was shaving her pussy. As soon as she was done with the razor and put it down I leaned in and kissed her as I ran a finger down between her pussy lips and thumbed her clit. The cabbie honked the horn for a second time and broke the mood, so I reminded my wife for the umpteenth time to park in back at Charlie's as I locked the front door behind me.

I walked into Charlie's and no Rod. He was wasn't there. Great, I thought, as I made my way to the far end of the bar and called out to Charlie for a beer. Just as I rounded the end of the bar I saw Rod turn the corner from the back room and smile. He'd been in the john. He greeted me like a long lost brother and then sat down in his usual spot, next to the wall. I left an empty stool between us and sat down and took a drink of the beer Charlie had put down in front of me. The empty stool was in the opening of the bar where the top hinges up so the bartender can pass without having to bend down and crawl to get behind the bar.

No sooner did I sit down when Rod was looking down at the empty stool between us and asking about my wife. "So, where's that beautiful young married nympho of yours?" he asked.

"It's her twenty-second birthday today. I told her all about you and now she can't wait to meet you!"

"Really? What did you tell her?"

"Mostly that you were an asshole" I replied, and nudged him in the ribs, then added, "Nah! Just kidding. I told her you're a great guy. Oh, and I might have mentioned that huge cock of yours too - just in passing."

"How come she isn't doing something with her husband on her birthday?" Rod asked.

Good question! All I could come up with on the spur of the moment was "Since Wednesday is her night out he's taking her someplace special for a long weekend. Wouldn't tell her where. She said that she would be here," I said, to reassure him. Then added "She'll be here. She's due any time now."

I tried to change the subject. The Dodgers were home, playing the Cubs, and the pre-game was on the televisions at each end of the bar. Every time I tried talking about the Dodgers Rod would bring the conversation back to asking more questions about my nympho. After the Chicago debacle I was hesitant, but I knew Rod, so I finally gave in and told him that she was insatiable (which was absolutely true - especially lately). How, after I'd already fucked her two or three times, she would jokingly threaten to find someone else to 'finish the job' and that I wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

Rod and I are still talking about her; well, I am, he's listening and asking questions, when the inimitable Vince Scully says 'It's time for Dodger baseball' just as the front door opens and my wife takes a couple of steps in and pauses. There's a spot light pointed at the front door, to see who's entering when they dim the lights, and she was temporarily blinded. She stood there for a moment with the door open and the low setting sun shining straight in behind her. The sun seemed to shine right through the dress she was wearing so that she looked to be standing there in silhouette, naked except for the high heeled sandals she was wearing. She spotted me and let the door close and the illusion was gone. As she walked towards us she had that extra sway in her hips she always seems to add on Game nights. Rod pulled her bar stool a little closer and whispered 'Hot damn!'

My wife was wearing a finely knit beige halter mini-dress and her breasts bounced in rhythm with her steps as she walked. She had put her hair up, baring her long graceful neck. A gold necklace and dangling earrings comprised of varying lengths of gold chain framed her face. I glanced down. There was the gold anklet and charm I'd bought for her! She gave me a huge smile as she threw her arms around me and kissed me way harder than I'd expected. I dropped my arms and slid my hands up under the back of her little dress and was pleasantly surprised to discover bare skin. Either she'd left her panties at home, a first, or she was wearing a G-string.

She broke the kiss and stepped back. I started to introduce her to Rod, but she broke in and said "Hi! You must be Rod. I'm Cecelia, like in the Simon and Garfunkel song, but all my friends me Ceel. So please call me Ceel." (My wife had obviously given this a lot of thought; the cab, a fake name, I would have used her real name!) "I've heard so much about you that I feel as though we're already friends!" Rod took a step closer and stuck his hand out to shake my wife's hand, but she moved past it and gave him a way more than just friends kiss. After she broke off the kiss we all sat down and my wife spun towards Rod, put a hand on his thigh and said "I was told that you're my biggest fan!"

Rod looked over at me, smiled, and said "I've heard a lot about you too! He's always bragging about you."

"Nothing too naughty, I hope," my wife said as she turned and put a hand on top of mine on the bar and patted the top of my hand.

"No! No. Nothing too naughty" Rod replied, looking guilty.

Charlie approached. I introduced them. She smiled graciously and ordered a Boodles martini, dry, with extra olives. On his was back with her drink my wife uncrossed and crossed her legs again. Charlie's eyes were the size of saucers and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Either beauty or the flash of a bare pussy affect his inner ear.

Martini in hand, my wife spun away from the bar and said "say, didn't you say there's a pool table here? You keep promising to show me how to play pool. How about now?"

Rod was up off of his stool with his beer in one hand and the other around my wife's waist, leading her into the back room, before I could say "but you know how to play pool." He steered her to the far back corner, out of the line of sight from the bar area, to a small round table just large enough for our drinks and an ashtray.

They put down their drinks and then walked over to the wall mounted rack of cue sticks. My wife asked Rod "Is there a difference between the cue sticks because they all looked the same?"

"Oh yes," Rod said, "there's a lot of difference if you look closely. Some of them are longer than others, and some are thicker. It's a matter of preference.

"Oh, okay!" my wife said, "then I'd like to try a long fat one."

Rod turned to look at me, rolled his eyes, and mouthed 'She is fucking hot!" turned back, and said "then you should try mine!" and handed her the cue he'd chosen. He racked and put his arms around my wife to show her how to hold the cue to break, then sat down opposite me at the table.

My wife had her back to us as she bent over from the waist with her pussy showing under the back of her dress. Her left hand was on the table as she leaned over, sliding the cue back and forth through the 'V' formed between her thumb and forefinger. She looked back over her shoulder at Rod and asked "does this look okay to you?"

Rod looked from me to her pussy again and said "Yeah! That looks perfect!"

My wife broke and didn't sink anything. Rod missed an easy shot but left the cue ball almost in the center of the table, where she would have to bend over again to make the shot. She flashed us her pussy again as she missed that shot and passed the cue back to Rod. Instead of shooting he put the cue ball back where it was for her shot and told her to try again. We both got another crotch shot and then Rod was us with his arm around her, showing her how to line up her shot as he ran his hand along the side of her bare breast.

As soon as the game was over they came back and sat down next to each other, across from me. My wife asked if I would mind playing the jukebox. She felt like dancing. I went up front for quarters and stopped at the jukebox to play every slow song I recognized, then went back through the list again to use up my plays and to give them some more alone time.

I started to sit down but my wife stood and walked me over to the small area that was used as a dance floor on the weekends when there was a live band. "So what do you think?" I asked as we were dancing.

"He's quite handsome" she whispered.

"Good" I said, "cuz he thinks you're Fucking Hot!" I spun her around so her back was towards Rod and lifted the back of her dress up over her ass.

My wife rested her head on my shoulder and whispered "Why don't you go get us another drink after this dance." She was smiling. The song ended and I told Rod that I was going for another round. I came back about ten minutes later. I'd stopped to watch the top half of the first inning. I think the Cubs left a man on base.

When I got back my wife was sitting on Rod's lap at the table. He had a hand in the front of her dress and one of her breasts cupped. She spotted me and adjusted the narrow band of cloth that had been covering her breast and sat down next to him again. Rod and I were talking for a while when I noticed that my wife's eyes were closed and she was sliding lower and lower in her chair. I realized that Rod had his hand under the front of her dress. I looked over at him and he had this big grin on his face as he mouthed "I owe you buddy!" I gave them another minute or so and then cleared my throat. My wife opened her eyes and sat up straight. She looked guilty for a moment then smiled and downed about half of the martini I'd just brought. Another minute or so and it was her turn for saucer eyes. Evidently she'd been running her hand along Rod's dick over his slacks and I'm pretty sure her idea of big and mine weren't the same until then. She downed the rest of her drink, stood and gave me a kiss, and announced that they were going out to her car and would be back in a little while. I walked up front with them and sat at the bar as they continued on out the front door.

I ordered another beer. It was the top of the third inning; three up three down for the Cubs. I took a leak between innings while the Dodgers prepared to bat. When I got back the Dodger pitcher was on second base. Charlie was there to inform me that he'd been bunted over. There were a couple of walks to load the bases and Steve Garvey came up to bat. He fought off a couple of borderline pitches until he got a hanger that he drove for a grand slam. As Garvey was circling the bases I remember thinking that Rod was probably out back circling the bases with my wife too! The next guy was out and it was four to nothing Dodgers!

The Cubs had a couple of men on when Rod and my wife walked back in again. They were both smiling as they walked over. Rod slapped me on the back and said "Ceel will be right back" as she kept on walking back to the ladies room. Then as soon as she'd turned the corner added, "You were right buddy!" As he sat back down again he said "She is insatiable! I fucked her twice and she was still trying to get me hard again by sucking my dick. She even made me promise that I'd fuck her one more time after I rested a while. I tried to fuck her in the ass the second time, but she said her ass was only for her husband. Lucky son of a bitch!" In reality her ass was still sore from Chicago, or she probably would have let him have it. But maybe not. He does have a huge cock!