Maggie's Birthday Surprise

I'm Margaret (Maggie) Grey, a fifty four year old widow and mother of two; these events took place on my birthday in May last year. Well, not precisely on my birthday, I was on a cruise ship heading home from Madeira on that day, but at my birthday party the following Sunday; that was only a small affair, my daughter Zoe, her husband Tom and myself.

My husband Bill died almost three years ago; he was somewhat older than I, but sixty-one is no age, particularly for someone so seemingly fit and healthy. Bill fell foul of aneurysm while sat at his desk at work; nobody had the slightest inkling there was even a problem and the best guess -- it was never anything more definite -- was that it might've arisen from an old rugby injury?

I was well beyond my shock and mourning now and while I've since 'dated' two eligible gentlemen and rather more who most certainly weren't, I'd by now resigned myself to the single life. It wasn't the men's fault entirely, but during these last three years I'd come to realise just how frustratingly messy and untidy men can be; with hindsight, even Bill.

The only real downside has been a lack of sex; I'm still active and relatively healthy added to which I'd been... spoilt. Though Bill was ten years my senior, he'd been equally active -- he'd played seniors rugby until his mid fifties and ran five miles, damned near every day of his life - and when it came to the bedroom, Bill had been inventive too.

Don't misunderstand, I've had plenty of offers since Bill died but the two that I'd accepted had both proved a great disappointment: A man I'd met while on holiday last summer had talked the talk, but really couldn't walk the walk; even with the assistance of his 'little blue friends'. While the second, whom I'd met on last week's Madeiran cruise had proven worse:

He was a little younger than I; rather handsome in a very upper-class English sort of way and more than adequate between the sheets. Sadly, only after the event did I discover that for him, our liaison was a... professional transaction. He was a gigolo who spent his life entertaining ladies on cruise ships; I hadn't realised such creatures existed in the real world.

The whole episode had left me with a rather bruised ego, angry rather than upset... I wasn't some ancient harridan who needed to pay for male attention; I'd garnered enough interested glances while aboard ship to confirm that. Zoe noticed my discomfiture when she'd collected me at the dock, so I'd had to fess-up, but she was sworn to secrecy.

Closer to home the choice of male companionship had proven sparse, when you're my age the good ones have all been snapped-up long ago and their wives are protective, watching we single ladies like hawks. I can hardly complain, as on reflection I was no doubt equally possessive with regards to Bill.

That didn't mean there'd been no opportunities and several men in our social circle -- perhaps suggesting that they weren't quite so 'good' as they appeared - had made oblique enquiries as to my... availability. However, sleeping with a friend's husband behind their back was a total red-line for me, while Bill had never strayed, I'd seen the fallout when other husbands had.

Aside from the ruckus in the immediate aftermath of discovery... And adulterers always get caught out by their spouse eventually, were the longer term consequences. That does seem to be one area of life that sexual equality has failed to reach:

Amongst the men an errant husband is seen as a lucky so and so, a bit of a jack-the-lad, but for the lady involved, be she married or single, you're forever damned. At best pushed to the periphery of your social circle, never again to be fully trusted, but for a repeat offence, or even the first if the group so decides, you'll find yourself ostracised forever.

Not for me thank you very much and especially not within our social circle, ours like all others revolves primarily around the husbands, their businesses and male centric social clubs, Round Table, the Masonic Lodge, Rotary and the like. So, with Bill having been ten years older than me, so too were most of my friends' husbands.

One might think that I might be better served going in search of a 'younger' man, but that was fraught with even more danger: Now my own kids have flown the nest, the only ones I seem to come into contact with are the offspring of my own friends; the rage of a wife whose husband you've... dallied with is as nothing compared to that of a mother who catches a predatory cougar with her cub.

I'd driven across to Tom and Zoe's on the Sunday morning; there's a wonderful gastro-pub only a few minutes walk from there house. Dining there meant we could all enjoy a few glasses of wine and if it turned into more than a few, I could stay overnight and unlike Tom and Zoe, not have to worry about getting to work on time the following day.

The meal was as good as anticipated and we did wash it down with 'more than a few' drinks; once we'd walked home Zoe even had Tom open another bottle. Having raised yet one more toast to my birthday, Zoe dropped her bombshell: "I couldn't find a decent present for you in the shops mum, so I'll give you Tom instead."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can have Tom for the afternoon, I'm sure you'll find him much more useful to you than a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates"

I glanced in Tom's direction and he appeared as a nonplussed as I was myself "To do what exactly: useful how?"

"To shag your brains out... That'll put a proper smile back on your face."

I was so surprised that I almost dropped my wineglass; I got it safely onto the worktop, though most of its contents spilled out, in the moment before I grasped the worktop's edge as my legs wobbled beneath me. Staring open mouthed between Tom and Zoe, I saw that my daughter grinning like a Cheshire-Cat, while Tom looked as gobsmacked as me.

"I... We... Tom can't... He's your husband."

"True, but I'm guessing your need is greater than mine and I've no concerns that Tom hasn't got enough fuel in his tank to see me right too."

"But... But... You can't just... You're pimping Tom out and you've not even asked him; I can see that from the expression on his face."

"You don't need to worry about that either mum, we all know that Tom's got the hots for you; how many times has he said over the years that 'All women eventually turn into their mothers... I just wish Zoe would hurry up get on with it'."

I can't deny having heard Tom say that far more than once, nor that there's a strong resemblance between my daughter and I: we're both tall - what Bill described as 'leggy' - redheads and though I'm rather more 'rounded' nowadays, that weight for the most part has been added in all the right places.

"But that's just Tom's joke... He's flirting... Teasing you by flattering me."

"Are you sure about that? We often role-play in our sex-life and whenever its Tom's turn to choose the characters and scenario, your name comes up more than any film star or sportswoman; you're high on, perhaps top, of Tom's fantasy list."

That had me turning my gaze to my son-in-law once again; Tom's expression had definitely changed since I last looked, not so much what I saw on his face, but the gleam in his eyes. In confirmation -- though it was only the briefest of glances -- I also noted a very obvious bulge in the front of Tom's trousers.

I felt the colour rising in my cheeks as my attention swung back to my daughter. "And you haven't asked me either! I'm not dropping my knickers, just because you think it's a good idea... If Tom tries coming on with me, he'll have a fight on his hands."

Zoe squealed in delight, for a moment leaving me nonplussed once again. "Even better! I'm betting that's just how he'd like it; in most of those role-plays Tom has forced himself on you and more than once that's been across this very table... And I know that's how you like it too."

"What? You know no such thing young lady!"

"Oh come off it mum; growing up I slept in the room next door to yours and dad's and the walls in your house are paper-thin. I spent more than enough nights listening to you squealing 'No' - 'Stop it' -- 'Not like that' - 'Don't you dare' -- 'I won't' - 'You mustn't' and those were the nights when your subsequent orgasms were the loudest."

That rising of the colour in my cheeks was now complete, I could feel them glowing red; my legs were trembling again too. I could also feel a my heart racing and a long absent and that sorely missed fluttering in my belly and groin; I sensed more than a hint of moisture gathering down there too. I was again glancing back and forth between Tom and Zoe.

It eventually settled back on Zoe: "I... I... We... Not.. And what do you intend doing to do while this is happening, stand there and watch?"

"I'd absolutely love to, but I suspect that might cramp your styles; I'll take this and go watch TV... Don't worry about the noise, I'll turn up the sound." Zoe grabbed the half empty wine bottle from the table, spun on her heel and walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

In the silence which followed my eyes flickered between Tom's face -- it wore an enigmatic smile -- and my own feet. I willed those to start moving, to take me out of the kitchen and if needs be my daughter's house, but they refused to move. Equally disconcerting, those flutters in my belly and groin were still there and that hint of moisture had become a trickle.

Neither I nor Tom managed to break the silence that Zoe had left in her wake, but he did manage to move: Tom stepped across to me and very slowly and very deliberately began to unfasten the buttons of my blouse; he afforded me every opportunity to resist, but despite that fight I'd promised, I stood there submissively and allowed him to do so.

Having completed that task, Tom slipped the blouse from my shoulders; it fell to my waist, to hang by the fabric trapped within the waistband of my skirt. Tom then leant forward, reached around me and deftly unclipped my bra; he paused - offering me yet another opportunity? - for several seconds; during which I remained mute before Tom slid that free of my shoulders to drop onto the floor.

Not until my bra fell away did I find my voice and even that was no more than a mewled whimper; a fragile sound lost beneath Tom's growled "Your boobs are gorgeous Maggie... I always knew they would be." That conclusion arrived in the same moment that Tom's right hand settled softly on my breast; an action which drew a second mewling whimper.

Even when Tom lowered his head and caught my right nipple gently between his teeth I didn't manage any words; just a groan of acceptance as my own hand sank into Tom's hair and pulled him against me more tightly. That intensified the pressure on my nipple and my next groan was louder still... encouraging, rather than merely accepting.

Tom's mouth and hands switched back and forth between my breasts for a couple of minutes at least. I kept one hand on the worktop to aid my balance - those leg trembles hadn't eased any -- while the other remained entwined in Tom's hair. It was that hand which dictated when Tom's mouth changed allegiance and the degree of pressure that it applied to my breasts.

That pressure grew ever greater... more aggressive, as too did the depth and volume of my groans; there wasn't the slightest hint of demurral to be heard in those by then. It was Tom who eventually broke our embrace, pulling up his head to kiss me on the mouth; it wasn't the first time he'd done so, but never like that... Hell! It'd been many years since even Bill had kissed me with such intensity.

Once again I offered no resistance, in fact my tongue had searched the inside of Tom's mouth before his ventured into mine. I was also the one to re-locate us to the kitchen table -- there wasn't space on that worktop for what I wanted, indeed by then needed! - grabbing Tom by the wrist he eagerly followed.

Once there, I grasped the hem of Tom's polo shirt and peeled it over his head; with that gone Tom's hands dropped to my waist to search ineptly for the fastenings on my skirt. Slapping Tom's hands away I finally spoke, snapping "Leave it; I'll get that, while you take your pants off." Those words no doubt confirmed the absence of any lingering reticence on my part?

I kicked my shoes off as I released my skirt; hooking the waistbands of my panty-hose and knickers as I shimmied my skirt down down. I recall thinking 'if I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have chosen some more alluring underwear'; then realised that if I'd known in advance, I would've more likely never have arrived in the first place.

Tom caught me by the hips as he straightened up from removing his trousers; we were both now naked but I'd not caught even a glimpse of his cock. I didn't see it then either, Tom whisked me off my feet, sat me gently onto the table's edge then pressed against my sternum to leave me supine upon the table with my legs dangling.

As Tom sunk to his haunches and lifted each of my legs in turn onto his shoulders, those trembles and tummy-flutters returned with a vengeance. I was calculating the... angle of attack, that our positions were going to afford Tom when he stood back upright and imagining the depth and potential strength of the upcoming penetration.

Tom's assault arrived not two seconds later and drew a shrill, almost adolescent squeal from my lips; that squeal was one of surprise! Tom hadn't straightened his legs, instead he rocked forward, pressed his face into my groin and then drawn his tongue very firmly up the full length of my vagina. When Tom repeated the move, that squeal was replaced by a primal groan.

Tom had completely wrong-footed me with his oral caress; what had happened to the rough fuck Zoe had threatened? I might've been surprised, but I wasn't about to complain, Tom's attentions were absolutely lush. Not that I was any sort of expert in such matters; on occasion Bill had very briefly eaten me out, but never anything like this turned into.

Tom really went to town on me and it wasn't just his tongue, lips, fingers and even teeth were brought into play. Tom nibbling at my labia had me squealing with delight as too did his tongue dancing across my perineum and when it strayed further to tease at the entrance to my bum -- God, how filthy was that! - I simply howled in my sordid pleasure.

Tom pressed a finger into there too... Twice! On the second occasion Tom also had two fingers deep in my pussy and my clitoris between his lips; that triggered perhaps the most powerful of the orgasms Tom drew from me. I've no idea how many times I climaxed in total, though it was perhaps only the one? Once my first orgasm hit, the sensations never did completely abate.

Nor could I tell you how long the experience lasted, but it was a very long time; I'd must've been pitching and bucking for ten or fifteen minutes, before Tom finally stood upright. By then I was like a rag doll atop the table, heart racing, red as a beetroot, gasping for breath and bathed in perspiration; a single glance at Tom's glistening cheeks confirmed that I was awash between my legs too.

Tom again caught hold of my legs as he rose, my heels were resting on his shoulders and his left arm was across my knees as his right hand guided his cock between the delicate petals of my vulva. The tremors and tummy-flutters were re-energised in the instant Tom's cock-head entered me; that alone was enough to vouch for his ample girth, did Tom's cock have a length to match?

That question was answered two seconds later... A resounding Yes! Tom's was undoubtedly the biggest that I'd ever accommodated, though he still slipped its full length inside me with a single and not even especially aggressive stroke; just how wet was I down there? I greeted Tom's intrusion with a prolonged and heavy moan.

While Tom's subsequent penetrations were delivered more firmly, their pace remained sedate; with my legs near vertical and pinned to Tom's chest, they also went bloody deep! The fact that it needed only six or eight such thrusts to tip me over the edge of yet another climax perhaps evidenced just how far gone I now was.

Tom paused to let me ride out that climax, then recommenced in much the same vein; after no more that another three or four penetrations I lost it completely and snarled -- halfway to a scream? - "Harder Tom and faster too! Bang my bloody brains out; like Zoe promised you would!"

"I won't last long if I do Maggie; I'm pretty close already."

"I don't give a shit! Just slam that fat cock into me and fill my pussy with cum!"

A few seconds later saw me thinking along the lines of 'be careful what you wish for'; Tom still had my legs held vertically as he pistoned into me a like a man possessed. My own hands were gripping the tables edge, but the force of Tom's strokes still lifted my bum clear of the table at the conclusion of each penetration; it was like being gored with a fence post!

As warned Tom didn't last long, probably no more than six or eight -- perhaps ten at most? - thrusts for him to reach a snarling climax. I'd thought Tom had fallen short of drawing another orgasm out of me, but when his semen began spraying into me, as if from a fire hose, I capitulated once again; I'd never been fucked so... thoroughly, in my entire life.

My dissipation was complete and Tom was little better; I suspect his legs were close to collapse as he stumbled a half-step away. With Tom's arm still around my legs that movement pulled me beyond my point of balance on the tables edge; I feared for a moment that I'd crash to the floor, but Tom caught my arm at the last and I landed there with only a soft thud.

That drew Tom's concern and he expressed it with a shouted "Shit! are you OK Maggie?" as he leant over to check on me. I hadn't the breath to reply, so provided reassurance in the only way I could: Tom's softening cock was only a few inches from my cheek, so I grasped it in my hand and drew it into my open mouth.

For a few seconds Tom's face registered only surprise; then morphed into a wicked grin as he growled "Fucking hell Maggie, I can see where Zoe gets it from now; you are an absolute slut... a MILF slut."

With Tom's cock still deep in my mouth I was in no position to reply, though the smile that I returned around Tom's intruding shaft no doubt said all that was needed. And yes, that smile was a 'proper' one', just as my daughter had predicted.

It was perhaps a further ten minutes before we'd both recovered our breaths and composures. We were both re-dressed by then too; what I really needed was a shower, but for now I settled for wedging a sizeable bunch of kitchen towels inside my panties to stem the outpouring of liquid - both Tom's and my own - from my ravaged pussy.

I'd barely got those back in place and my skirt straightened when Zoe waltzed back into the kitchen. I can't say I was comfortable anyway, but things would've been far more embarrassing had she arrived a minute or so earlier. Zoe too was wearing a wicked grin: "So... Was I right or was I right? It's been a while since I've seen you smiling like that mum."

In that moment I didn't think I was smiling, but I corrected that an instant later. "You were... And thank you, that's the best birthday present I've ever had; I can't wait until next year." I was looking back and forth between Tom and Zoe as I spoke; my gratitude was directed towards them both.

"You won't have to mum; this present is like that Harper's Bazaar magazine that you give for my birthday every year. An annual subscription... Tom will be arriving on your doorstep once a month, as regular as clockwork."

The expression on Tom's face suggested this was a further surprise for him too; though the smile which appeared a moment later suggested that he found this new surprise as appealing as I did. Zoe proposed opening another bottle of wine to celebrate, but I declined and settled instead for a restorative cup of tea, ahead of my going home.