The Birthday Gift My Husband Asked Me to Fulfill

My hands are shaking as I gather the last papers from the desk and slide them into the drawer. I’ve been staring at the clock ever since I finished lunch, and now there are barely ten minutes left until six. Every time I look up, my eyes catch on the ID plaque: “Renata Salgado.” That’s my name, the one that appears on invoices, in meetings, in the orderly life I built over twelve years.

Today is my husband’s birthday. He’s turning forty-eight, and I wonder what he’s thinking about right now. I bet he’s been checking the time all afternoon just like I have, imagining what’s going to happen tonight. He wants that gift. A gift only I can give him, and one you can’t buy in any store: he wants another man to fuck me without a condom and fill my cunt with hot cum on the very same day I stopped taking the pills.

I close the filing cabinet and hear the click of heels in the hallway. It’s Patricia, my boss, peeking in with her end-of-day smile.

“Rest well, Renata. See you tomorrow.”

“You too, Patricia. Good night,” I answer, and it surprises me how steady my voice sounds when I’m trembling inside and my thong is stuck to my wet flesh.

I go out onto the street and look for my car. I grip the steering wheel hard as I drive down the long avenue, watching traffic and going over the address he gave me again and again. He said it was a building with a pink façade, with a sign just past a bank branch.

There it is. The Marabú motel. I know it isn’t an elegant place, but tonight that doesn’t matter in the least. I see his car parked in the back and leave mine beside it. I turn off the engine and sit in silence for a few seconds, listening to my own breathing.

I lower the visor and look at myself in the mirror. I do a couple of last-minute touch-ups and apply a fresh coat of the lipstick he likes so much, that intense red that, as he confessed to me over lunch last week, gets him hard immediately. Last night, my husband painted my fingernails and toenails the same color, so everything would match. While he painted my bare feet, with me leaning against the sofa back, his erection was obvious under his pants and he kept repeating in my ear what was going to happen today: how another man was going to spread my legs, how he was going to fill me until it ran down my thighs, how I was going to come home with my cunt full of someone else’s semen so he could lick me from head to toe afterward. He knows everything. He planned everything.

I put a little perfume on my neck and take a deep breath. I’m ready.

***

I get out of the car and my heels click against the asphalt as I walk. On the front passenger seat of his car, just as he predicted, there’s a notebook with the room number written down. Fourteen. It’s in the opposite wing of the parking lot. I cross slowly, feeling my heart hammering against my chest, and knock on the door.

I hear the latch click. The door opens and he smiles at me. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a calm in his gaze that completely disarms me. The first time I saw him I felt my legs go weak, and now it happens again.

There’s a chair by the entrance and I set my purse on it while he closes the door behind me. I turn to look at him. There’s no going back, I think, and instead of frightening me, the thought melts my cunt.

He walks toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. I tilt my head up and we kiss. His hands slide down to my hips, squeeze the flesh over my dress, and keep going until his palms fill with my ass. His tongue searches for mine with a hunger that brooks no argument. I break the kiss for only an instant.

“I only have two hours,” I warn him.

“Then let’s make every minute count,” he murmurs against my mouth. “In two hours I’m going to fuck you so many times that tomorrow you won’t be able to close your legs without thinking of me.”

I shudder all over. He presses his lips back to mine, and this time he pushes his tongue deep inside. We stay like that for almost a minute, kissing with a urgency I didn’t know I had in me, while I feel his cock hardening against my stomach through his pants.

I step back and start unbuttoning his shirt. He tries to kiss my neck while I pull it off his shoulders. He kicks off his pants as quickly as I strip him, and immediately his fingers go for the zipper of my dress. He kisses me on the mouth while sliding it down my shoulders until it falls away.

He leaves a trail of kisses down my neck to the swell of my breasts. Gently he moves my bra straps aside and lowers the cups. His hot mouth closes over one of my nipples and a chill runs down my back. He sucks hard, lets go, catches it again between his teeth, and I bury my fingers in his hair and pull him against me. His hands undo the clasp and the bra drops to the floor.

I look down at him while he moves from one breast to the other, biting them, leaving them red, spitting a little saliva over my nipples so he can suck them shiny. I hear him breathing hard, and that breathing turns me on more than any caress. I can feel his cock, still trapped in his briefs, pressing against my thigh, thick, hard, throbbing to get out.

***

He straightens, lowers one hand, and slips it under my underwear. He kisses me again while his fingers travel over my belly and descend slowly. When one of them finds me, it finds a cunt completely soaked through.

“Look how wet you are,” he whispers in my ear, sinking the finger all the way in. “You’re dripping. Is all this because you knew what you were going to do tonight?”

“Yes,” I manage to say, my voice broken.

He slides in a second finger. He curls them inside me, searches for that spot just behind the bone, and presses until my knees go weak. I suck his tongue, clinging to his shoulders, feeling him play with me without hurry while his thumb rubs my clit in slow, deliberate circles. The palm of his hand taps softly against my mound every time he thrusts his fingers in, and that wet thudding, that slapping sound in the room, turns me on more than I want to admit.

“Listen,” he says very low, not stopping his fingers. “Listen to how your cunt sounds. It’s begging to be fucked.”

I break the kiss and step back just enough to get rid of the last piece of clothing. I move close again and pull down his briefs, dragging them by the waistband to the floor. His cock springs upward as soon as I free it, thick, with a pronounced vein running beneath it, the tip already shining with fluid. I kneel to help him out of them. When I rise halfway, I have it in front of my face, and for a moment I just stare at it without moving, measuring.

I wrap my left hand around it and feel it pulse against my palm, hot, hard as stone under the thin skin. I lean in and give him a slow kiss with my mouth half open over the glans, while I place my other hand underneath, weighing his balls. His hands cover mine and, when I look up, he’s watching me, waiting.

I stick out my tongue and run it from base to tip, slowly, leaving a bright trail of saliva. His fingers brush my wedding ring, and I wonder what’s going through his head at this very moment. Here I am: a married woman, blonde, thirty-seven years old, kneeling on the floor of a cheap room, with another man’s cock in my mouth, about to fulfill the strangest wish my husband has ever asked of me. We have two children and a small house in the suburbs. He works for a big company and half-jokingly, half-seriously, calls me his “trophy wife.” And today, to celebrate his forty-eighth, he’s sent me here so another man can spread my legs and leave me pregnant.

I open my mouth and start. At first it’s hard, because it’s thick and fills me completely, but he helps me, stroking my hair patiently, setting the rhythm. I suck with my mouth closed around it, moving up and down, flicking my tongue to lick his balls between each thrust. My chin gets covered in saliva, and the thread dripping down to my breasts highlights my tits with shine. I hear him groan and that sound gives me courage. I didn’t come here tonight to be treated gently. I came for something else. I want him firm with me, taking control, so that for a few hours I stop being the orderly woman I always am and he treats me like the whore I want to be tonight.

I lift my gaze and look him in the eyes with his cock still in my mouth. He holds my head with both hands and speaks to me in a different tone, deeper.

“Slowly,” he says. “Look at me while you suck my cock.”

I obey. I keep my eyes open, fixed on his, and he smiles with satisfaction. He starts moving my head at the pace he wants, pushing a little deeper with each downward stroke. When he reaches the back of my throat, I stay there for a few seconds, with tears in my eyes and my nose pressed to his belly, until he lets me go so I can breathe.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, stroking my cheek, wiping a strand of saliva away with his thumb. “Tonight you’re mine alone. This mouth is mine. That wet cunt you show the mirror every morning is mine too. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

He pushes again and I open my throat wider. He fucks my mouth slowly, firmly, and with every thrust I feel the tip brush the back of my throat. My eyes burn, saliva runs down my chin, and between my legs I can feel my own cunt soaking my thighs.

***

We go on like that for several minutes until he leans down, takes my chin, and gently pulls me away. A thread of saliva still links my mouth to the tip of his cock. He tilts my face up so our eyes meet.

“Stand up,” he आदेश.

He offers me his hand and I almost lose my balance on my heels. He pulls me to his chest and kisses me again, hungry, not caring that my mouth tastes like his cock. His tongue searches for mine and I answer by curling mine around his. He takes my chin and looks at me fixedly.

“Do you still want this?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “You know why I came.”

“Say it. Tell me what you came for.”

I swallow. He grips the back of my neck with one hand and my chin with the other. He won’t let me escape.

“I came so you’d fuck me without a condom,” I whisper, and saying it makes my thighs tighten. “I came so you’d fill my cunt. It’s what he wants.”

“Did you do what I asked?”

“Yes. I did exactly what you told me.”

“Prove it to me.”

“It’s in my purse,” I answer, my voice a little shaky.

“Bring it.”

He lets me go and I walk to the chair, naked except for my heels, feeling his hard cock bounce as he walks behind me. I feel his gaze fixed on me while I open my purse and slide my hand inside. I take out a small box and extend my arm to hand it over.

I watch him examine the blister pack of contraceptive pills. He checks the date, opens the pack, and starts counting the pills, one by one. I watch him nervously, not knowing what he expects to find.

He looks up and chuckles.

“You’re not kidding me, are you?” he says. “How do I know you don’t have another box hidden somewhere? You could have said you lost them and asked for a replacement.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” I insist. “Those are the only ones I have. I did what you asked. I’ve gone four days without taking any. I’m in my fertile window. He calculated it.”

“So your husband worked out the dates,” he murmurs, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he strokes his cock while looking at me. “What a man. He sends you here on the exact day so he can fill you with cum and you can’t do a thing about it.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” I answer, looking him in the eyes. “Fuck me all the way. Don’t pull out.”

He sets the box on the table and extends his hand again. He takes my purse, opens it, and pulls out my wallet. He rummages through it while I watch him without moving, my nipples hard and my legs barely apart.

“What have we got here?” he comments, amused. “So many cards. Well, well. Mrs. Renata Salgado.”

He checks each one and carefully puts them back where they belong. Then he opens the photo compartment and there’s a picture of me with my husband and children. He smiles.

“Nice family.”

He moves on to the next photo: me in a swimsuit, on a vacation from two summers ago. He looks at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Remind me to take some pictures of you when your belly starts to show,” he says, and something in my stomach tightens at the sound of it. He runs his hand along his cock, from top to bottom, very slowly. “Tonight I’m going to leave it inside you so many times that it’s going to be mine. That child is going to be mine, Renata. Even if the two of you raise him.”

He tosses the wallet onto the table and comes over to take me in his arms. He grabs one breast, pinches the nipple until I moan, and with the other hand he strokes me between the legs, feeling how wet I am.

“You’re soaked just from listening to me,” he observes. “You like the idea.”

“Yes,” I admit, resting my forehead against his shoulder.

***

We kiss with a new intensity while he gently pushes me toward the bed. I fall back and he lifts my legs at the same time. He begins kissing my ankles, moving up slowly, biting the inside of my calf, leaving red marks on my thighs. I tilt my head to look at him.

“Do you want me to take my shoes off?” I ask.

“No,” he answers without looking up. “I want you to keep them on. I want you to be left with your heels in the air when I put it in you.”

He keeps kissing the inside of my thigh until his mouth reaches the folds of my cunt. He opens me with two fingers and runs his whole tongue over me, flat, from bottom to top. I scream. He jabs it in, pulls it out, jabs it in again. He sucks my swollen clit, takes it between his lips and tugs gently, and I lift my hips against his face, begging for more. He eats me without haste, soaked in my juices, chin shining, growling against my flesh. Then he starts moving two fingers inside me at the same rhythm as his tongue, and within minutes I feel the first wave building.

“I’m going to…” I manage to say.

“Come in my mouth,” he orders, without lifting his face. “Then I’ll get on.”

I explode against his tongue with a cry that escapes from deep inside me. I shake all over, clamp my thighs around his head, and he keeps sucking me as the contractions tear through me. When he finally lets me go, my chest is flushed and my breathing is wrecked.

He rises between my legs. He grips his cock with one hand and runs it through my folds, up and down, soaking it completely with what I’ve just left him. He places it at my entrance. One push is enough for the tip to sink in, and another, firmer one drives it halfway in. I scream. It’s thick, and I’m so wet it slides in without resistance.

“Look at it,” he whispers. “Look how it goes in with nothing in between. Nothing between your cunt and my cum.”

I look down and see it disappearing inside me, see my cunt opening around the base and squeezing it. The sensation of skin against skin, with no barrier at all, is unlike anything else. My whole body catches fire. I haven’t felt anything like this in years.

He starts fucking me slowly, propped up on his arms, looking down at me. Every thrust tears a new moan from me. I grip the sheets, then his forearms. He picks up the pace. He drives it all the way in and stays there for an instant, and I can feel him throbbing inside.

“That’s how your husband does it when he knocks you up, isn’t it?” he murmurs against my ear. “All the way in, without pulling out. Today it’s my turn.”

“Yes, yes, like that,” I repeat without realizing it.

He takes my ankles and puts my legs over his shoulders. Now he goes deeper, and every thrust wrings a sound from me I don’t recognize as my own. The bed creaks. My heels dig into my back and he doesn’t even flinch. He watches my breasts bounce with every удар, puts a hand on my throat without really squeezing, just marking who’s in charge.

“Who’s your husband tonight?” he asks, fucking me harder.

“You,” I pant.

“And who’s going to get you pregnant?”

“You,” I repeat, and another climax is building in the pit of my stomach.

He lets go of my legs, spins me with one motion, and leaves me face down, ass up and cheek pressed to the pillow. He grabs my hips with both hands and slams into me from behind again. I scream into the fabric. He starts fucking me hard, mercilessly, with no careful rhythm. His thighs slam against my ass and the sound fills the room. He spanks me. Then again. He leaves my skin burning.

“Is this how you wanted it?” he asks, voice rough.

“Yes, yes, harder,” I beg him.

He leans over my back, grabs my hair, and tugs gently to lift my head. He drives it in until I feel every centimeter. The second load bursts inside me on top of the first, and I come undone beneath him, shaking, squeezing his cock inside me with spasms I can’t control.

“I’m going to finish,” he growls, and his thrusts become shorter, deeper. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” I tell him, my face pressed to the mattress. “Inside, don’t pull out.”

“Say it properly.”

“Come in my cunt,” I manage to say. “Fill me. It’s what he wants. It’s what I want.”

That’s enough. He lets out a muffled roar, drives his hands into my hips, and pushes all the way in. I feel him unloading inside me, stream after stream, hot, thick, and feel his cock throbbing against the walls of my cunt. He doesn’t pull out. He stays there, over me, pressing me into the mattress until his last spasm passes. Then he withdraws slowly, and I clamp my thighs by instinct, not wanting a single drop to escape.

He turns me over carefully and opens my legs to look at me.

“Look what I left you,” he murmurs, almost reverently, sliding two fingers through my folds and pushing back in the semen that has started to run out. “Now stay like that. Legs up. Don’t let anything out.”

I obey. I lift my hips against the pillow and he lies beside me, his hand on my belly, breathing hard. His cock, still hard, rests against my thigh. I know that in a little while he’s going to put it back in me. I know he’s going to do it two, three more times before my time runs out.

I don’t want to think about what comes after, about the difficult conversations, about what it will really mean if tonight leaves an indelible mark. I only know that I’ve become addicted to feeling like this, out of control, surrendered, with another man’s cum dripping inside me. My husband knows it. Maybe that’s why he chose it as a gift, because he understood it was the only thing he himself could no longer give me.

I close my eyes when I feel him move again, when his hand comes back down between my legs and his fingers sink inside once more, pushing his own semen deeper in, preparing me for the next thrust. My whole orderly life — the office, the plaque with my name, the family photo in my wallet — dissolves in the dimness of this borrowed room. Tonight I am only me, my skin, my soaked cunt, and this forbidden desire I chose to embrace. Tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. Salgado again. But tonight, for exactly two hours, I am only his.