A Birthday Present 10

Some readers have remarked that my stories are incomplete. Many of my pieces, including the present story, are episodes, singular events in the lives of my characters.

A Birthday Present

by JoeRyan

"Happy birthday, darling. You have received a lot of presents, but one more will be arriving tomorrow at about ten PM."

"I guess that means it is going to be delivered. I wonder what it will be: a new set of golf clubs, a case of bitter orange marmalade, or a complete set of the Beethoven string quartets?".

"It's not a thing, it's a person. Clara Benson will come here, and she will allow you to have sex with her."

I'm Bill Swift, a guy who was in his early thirties when this story took place, and Doris was my wife of eight years. Where did she get that idea? I guess most married men think of fucking some other woman. Some men pursue it, and others don't. Put me in that latter category. Yes, I've admired my neighbor's lovely wife, but I can say that I've never lusted after her.

I then remembered that Doris had read a story in a magazine about a wife who had done the same thing. The wife had discovered her husband's collection of nude photographs, and she thought that allowing her husband to have sex with a not-terribly-attractive friend of hers would keep him from straying. But did that apply to us? We were both satisfied with our sex lives.

Another surprising thing is that I had never met Clara, or even seen a picture of her. All I knew about her was that she was a friend of my wife. Doris often had some of her female friends over for bridge, but never Clara.

When Doris announced the impending arrival of her friend, I was, at first, dumbfounded. There were so many things going on in my head. But as much as I hated to admit it, I found that I liked the idea. That was a bit of a surprise. Perhaps my idea of being the faithful husband was not entirely correct. At any rate, I did not discuss the situation with Doris. Thinking back, all I said was something inane, like, "Really? Do you want to do that?" Then perhaps I laughed, to lighten the air.

When Clara knocked on our door, Doris let her in and brought her to my room. The only thing Doris said was, "I'll leave the two of you alone now. Goodnight." I was never more uncomfortable. I took my visitor to the bedroom, and said, "Are you sure you want to do this?" She smiled, patted me on the cheek, and said, "Of course."

How could she be so blasé?

Perhaps she was just an acquaintance of Doris and was a prostitute! Whatever else she was, she was also quite attractive. I watched intently as she slowly stripped naked. Were her gazes and movements meant to be a tease? Lust boiled up in me as I also stripped. I watched her eyes as I undressed, and saw that she stared, and then smiled, when she saw my rigid erection.

I know, dear readers, that you want to know the details of the sex that followed, but I have only one thing to say: Sex with Clara was better than sex with Doris! Why? Clara was gorgeous, but so was Doris. Clara was physically responsive, but so was Doris. The only reason that I could think of was that Clara was someone new.

But was that the reason? I had to find out. I got Clara's phone number from Doris's address book. When I called, I first told her that what I had to say would probably sound weird. I then admitted that sex with her was better than with Doris, and that I had to find out why this was so. "Was it because you were someone that I didn't know?"

Clara replied that the sex we had was also more pleasant than she had expected. When I asked her if she was willing to try to find out what was going on, she hesitated, and then agreed. She said that she had a master's degree in biology, and we could look at this as a scientific inquiry into human relationships.

Clara had Thursdays off from work and said that if I could come over in the afternoon, I would be welcome. With my wife at work, that would be convenient for me. On my first visit, she made sandwiches, and we sat down to eat and talk. I learned that she was a divorcee, and that her ex-husband turned out to be an alcoholic. She also said that she was somewhat sexually active before her marriage.

After lunch, we went to he

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bedroom, where I stripped her naked. Stripped, yes, but very slowly. Whenever some beautifully tanned flesh was uncovered, I caressed it, kissed it, and perhaps gently bit it. Clara loved what I did to her. I undid her bra from behind and then turned her around. Her breasts were firm and ample but not especially large. What most interested me were her nipples: dark, almost black, and big as blackberries. I licked them, sucked them hard, and flutter-tongued them rapidly.

It was almost half an hour before I got to her panties. Before removing them, I put my hands inside and felt all around, being careful not to touch her vulva. She was undulating and moaning softly, and was wet from sweating in the warm bedroom. When I ran a finger over her asshole, I found that it was pulsating. It was difficult to resist penetrating her rectum with my fingers - I probably could because her sweat was sufficient lubrication - but I wanted to reserve that for later when we were in bed. I finally removed her panties, sniffed her aroma, and dropped the panties to the floor. I paused, holding her close, and then put a finger into her dripping-wet vagina. She climaxed almost immediately, lost control, and would have fallen to the floor if I had not quickly picked her up in my arms and carried her to bed.

I looked down at her wet body, glistening in the summer sunlight coming through the bedroom windows. Had I ever seen anything as lovely? I took off my clothes, got into bed, let her rest up for a while, and then asked if she was too tired to have intercourse. She laughed and gave me a punch in the ribs.

I suggested that she get on top. I wanted to see what she would do when she had control of the fucking. Would she use shallow and slow strokes, or would she go for total penetration and out-of-her-mind lusting? That would be very interesting. And what if, for an encore, I asked about fucking doggy-style, while penetrating her ass with a well-lubricated finger? Would she go along with it? My guess was that if I brought this up when I first arrived at her place, she would say no, but when she was totally aroused crazy, she might say yes. The thought that I could penetrate her in two places, while massaging her clit was mind-boggling.

The sex we had on ensuing visits was better each time, which meant that being new to each other was not the reason why sex with Clara was better than with Doris. But then, what was the reason? When I asked her if she knew why my wife had arranged our sexual encounter, she said that Doris was searching for a birthday gift, and the idea had just popped into her head. That did not seem right. Doris didn't do things on a whim.

On one visit, I was reading Clara's master's thesis when she snuck up behind me, put her hands on my shoulders, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Another time, she reached out and lightly put a hand on my arm in the middle of a discussion about childhood experiences. A simple action which I found to be very pleasant. Clara was like that.

And then, on my next visit, Clara said that she had solved my problem, but first wanted to ask some questions.

"Does Doris ever plop down on the couch beside you and run her fingers through your hair? Does she ever kiss you on the cheek for no apparent reason? Do you sleep in each other's arms? After sex, do you cuddle and whisper to each other like we do?"

My negative responses reinforced Clara's interpretation of my problem.

"Your relationship with Doris lacks affection and intimacy."

Her words bewildered me, but it didn't take much thinking to realize that Clara was correct.

My head was spinning. Was it possible that Doris was aware of her affection dysfunction? That would explain a lot, including why she arranged for me to have sex with an affectionate woman. If so, that was an act of extreme kindness.

"You and I were made for each other, Clara, so what do we do now. Can we be together?"

"There is only one thing we can do. You have a seven-year-old son, you have a family, and I'm not going to break that up. We must stop seeing each other immediately, before we fall in love, if that hasn't already happened. Don't blame Doris, she is probably unable to give affection, possibly because of how she was raised by her parents. I believe that if children are not shown love and affection, they will have difficulties when they become adults."

"Are you saying that our relationship is over, that it has meant nothing to you?"

"I will have many pleasant memories of the two of us together, and once your hurt subsides, so will you. That's all we can expect. Get up now, give me a goodbye kiss, and go home to Doris. I'm sure she loves you in her particular way."

In time, my relationship with Doris deepened, and I came to realize that what she had done was to give me a kind and memorable birthday present. No more, no less.