The Birthday Gift My Husband Asked Me to Fulfill

My hands are trembling as I gather the last papers from the desk and put them away in the drawer. I’ve been watching the clock since I finished lunch, and now there are barely ten minutes left until six. Every time I look up, my eyes run into the ID plaque: «Renata Salgado». That’s my name, the one that appears on the invoices, in the meetings, in the orderly life I’ve built over twelve years.

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

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

—Have a good evening, Renata. See you tomorrow.

—You too, Patricia. Good night —I reply, surprised by how steady my voice sounds when inside I’m trembling and my thong is sticking to my wet flesh.

I go outside and look for my car. I grip the steering wheel tightly as I drive along the long avenue, watching the traffic and going over the address he gave me. He said it was a building with a pink facade, with a sign just after 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 slightest. I see his car parked at the back and leave mine beside it. I turn off the engine and remain silent for a few seconds, listening to my own breathing.

I pull down the visor and look at myself in the mirror. I make a couple of last-minute touch-ups and apply a fresh coat of the lipstick he likes so much, that intense red which, as he confessed to me over lunch last week, gets him hard immediately. Last night, my husband painted the nails on my hands and feet the same color, so everything would match. While he painted my bare feet, with me leaning against the back of the sofa, I could see his erection beneath his trousers, and he kept whispering in my ear what was going to happen today: how another man would spread my legs, how he would fill me until it ran down his thighs, how I would come home with another man’s semen filling my pussy so he could lick me from top to bottom 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, my heels clicking against the asphalt as I walk. In the front seat of his car, just as he had told me, there’s a notepad with the room number written on it. Fourteen. It’s in the opposite wing of the parking lot. I cross slowly, feeling my heart pounding 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 calmness in his eyes that undoes me. The first time I saw him, I felt my legs give way, and now the same thing happens again.

There’s a chair by the entrance, and I leave 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 pussy.

He walks toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. I tilt my head back and we kiss. His hands slide down to my hips, squeezing the flesh over my dress, then continue downward until his palms are full of my buttocks. His tongue seeks mine with an eagerness that brooks no argument. I break the kiss for barely an instant.

—I only have two hours —I warn him.

—Then we’re going to make the most of every minute —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 against mine again, and this time he pushes his tongue deep inside. We stay like that for almost a minute, kissing with an urgency I didn’t know I had inside me, while I feel his cock hardening against my belly through the fabric of his trousers.

I take a step back and start unbuttoning his shirt. He tries to kiss my neck while I pull it off his shoulders. He lowers his trousers as quickly as I strip him, and at once his fingers search for the fastenings of my dress. He kisses my mouth as he slides it off my shoulders and lets it fall.

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

I look down at him as he moves from one breast to the other, biting them, leaving them red, spitting a little saliva on my nipples so he can suck them glossy. I hear him breathing heavily, and that sound arouses me more than any caress. I feel his cock, still trapped in his underwear, pushing against my thigh, thick, hard, throbbing to get out.

***

He straightens up, lowers one hand, and slides it beneath my underwear. He kisses me again while his fingers travel over my belly and slowly descend. When one of them finds me, it finds a completely soaked pussy.

—Look at you —he whispers in my ear, sinking his 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 inserts a second finger. He curls them inside me, searching for that spot just behind the bone and pressing it until my knees go weak. I suck on his tongue, clinging to his shoulders, feeling him play with me unhurriedly while his thumb rubs my clitoris in slow, deliberate circles. The palm of his hand lightly strikes my mound every time he thrusts his fingers, and that wet tapping, that sloshing sound filling the room, turns me on more than I want to admit.

—Listen —he says very softly, without stopping his fingers—. Listen to the sound your pussy makes. It’s screaming for me to fuck it.

I break the kiss and step back just far enough to get rid of the last garment. I move toward him again and pull down his underwear, dragging it with the elastic to the floor. His cock springs upward the moment I free it, thick, with a prominent vein running along the underside, the tip already glistening with fluid. I kneel to help him out of them. When I rise halfway, it’s in front of my face, and for a moment I simply stare at it, calculating.

I wrap my left hand around it and feel it throbbing against my palm, hot and hard as stone beneath the thin skin. I lean over and give the head a slow kiss with my mouth slightly open, 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 the base to the tip, slowly, leaving a trail of glistening saliva. His fingers brush my wedding ring, and I wonder what must be going through his head at this 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 desire my husband has ever asked of me. We have two children and a small house in the suburbs. He works for a large company and calls me, half joking and half serious, his «trophy wife». And today, to celebrate his forty-eighth birthday, he sent me here so another man could spread my legs and get me pregnant.

I open my mouth and begin. At first it’s difficult because he’s thick and fills me completely, but he guides me, patiently stroking my hair and setting the pace. I suck with my mouth closed around him, moving up and down, sticking out my tongue to lick his balls between thrusts. My chin fills with saliva, and the strand running down to my breasts leaves my tits gleaming. I hear him moan, and the sound gives me courage. I didn’t come here tonight to be treated gently. I came for something else. I want him to be firm with me, to take control, so that for a few hours I can stop being the orderly woman I always am and be treated like the slut I want to be tonight.

I look up and meet his eyes with his cock still inside my mouth. He holds my head in both hands and speaks to me in a different tone, lower and more serious.

—Slowly —he says—. Look at me while you suck me.

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 every downward stroke. When he reaches the back of my throat, I stay there for a few seconds, eyes watering and nose pressed against his belly, until he releases me so I can breathe.

—That’s how I like it —he murmurs, caressing my cheek and wiping a strand of saliva away with his thumb—. Tonight you’re mine alone. This mouth is mine. That wet pussy you show yourself in the mirror every morning is mine too. Don’t stop until I tell you to.

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

***

We continue like that for several minutes, until he leans over, takes me by the chin, and gently pulls me away. A strand of saliva still connects my mouth to the tip of his cock. He holds my face up so our eyes meet.

—Stand up —he orders.

He offers me his hand, and I nearly lose my balance on my heels. He draws me against his chest and kisses me again, hungry, not caring that my mouth tastes of his cock. His tongue seeks mine, and I answer by circling it around his. He grips my chin and stares directly at me.

—Do you still want this? —he asks.

—Yes —I answer without hesitation—. You know why I came.

—Say it. Tell me why you came.

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

—I came so you could fuck me without a condom —I whisper, and hearing myself say it makes me press my thighs together—. I came so you could fill my pussy. That’s what he wants.

—Did you do what I asked?

—Yes. I did exactly what you told me.

—Prove it.

—It’s in my purse —I reply, my voice trembling slightly.

—Bring it.

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

I watch him examine the blister pack of birth-control pills. He checks the date, opens the package, 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 pulling my leg, are you? —he says—. How do I know you don’t have another pack hidden somewhere? You could have said you lost them and asked for a replacement.

—I’m telling you the truth —I insist—. They’re the only ones I have. I did what you asked. I haven’t taken any for four days. I’m right in the middle of my cycle. He calculated it.

—So your husband calculated the dates —he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face as he strokes his cock while looking at me—. What a man. He sends you here on exactly the right day so I can fill you with come and you can’t do anything about it.

—Yes —I whisper.

—And what do you want me to do?

—I want you to do it to me —I reply, looking him in the eyes—. I want you to do it all the way in. Don’t pull it out.

He puts 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 stand motionless, nipples erect and legs slightly parted.

—What do we have here? —he remarks, amused—. So many cards. Well, well. Mrs. Renata Salgado.

He checks each one and carefully puts them back in place. Then he opens the photo compartment, revealing a picture of me with my husband and children. He smiles.

—Lovely family.

He moves to the next photo: me in a swimsuit, on a vacation 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 contracts at the words. He runs his hand up and down his cock very slowly—. Tonight I’m going to leave it inside you so many times that it’ll be mine. That child will be mine, Renata. Even if the two of you raise it.

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

—You’re soaked 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 as he gently pushes me toward the bed. I fall onto my back, and he lifts my legs at the same time. He begins kissing my ankles, moving slowly upward, biting the inside of my calves and 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 replies without looking up—. I want you to keep them on. I want your heels in the air when I put it inside you.

He continues kissing the inside of my thigh until his mouth reaches the folds of my pussy. He opens me with two fingers and runs his whole tongue, flat, from bottom to top. I scream. He plunges it inside me, pulls it out, then plunges it in again. He sucks my swollen clitoris, takes it between his lips, and tugs gently, while I raise my hips against his face, seeking more. He eats me without hurry, soaked in my juices, chin glistening, growling against my flesh. Then he begins moving two fingers inside me in time with 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 ride you.

I explode against his tongue with a cry that rises from the depths of me. My whole body shakes, I squeeze my thighs around his head, and he keeps sucking me while the contractions run 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 and runs it over my folds, up and down, coating it completely with what I’ve just left him. He presses it against my entrance. One push is enough for the tip to sink in, and another, firmer one, drives it halfway inside. I scream. He’s thick, and I’m so wet that he slides in without resistance.

—Look at it —he whispers—. Look how it goes in with nothing in between. Nothing between your pussy and my come.

I look down and see it disappear inside me, my pussy opening around the base and squeezing it. The sensation of skin against skin, without any barrier, is unlike anything else. My body catches fire. I haven’t felt anything like this in years.

He starts fucking me slowly, braced on his arms and looking down at me. Every thrust pulls a new moan from me. I clutch the sheets, then his forearms. His pace increases. He drives all the way inside and pauses for a moment, and I feel it throbbing within me.

—Is this how your husband makes you when he gets you pregnant, huh? —he murmurs against my ear—. Like this, all the way in, without pulling it out. Today it’s my turn.

—Yes, yes, like that —I repeat without realizing it.

He takes me by the ankles and places my legs over his shoulders. Now he goes deeper, and every thrust tears a sound from me that I don’t recognize as my own. The bed creaks. My heels dig into his back, and he doesn’t even flinch. He watches my breasts bounce with every impact and places one hand around my throat without actually squeezing, merely making it clear who’s in charge.

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

—You —I gasp.

—And who’s going to get you pregnant?

—You —I repeat, and another orgasm begins gathering in the pit of my stomach.

He releases my legs, turns me over in one movement, and leaves me face down, ass raised and face against the pillow. He grips my hips with both hands and slams back inside me from behind. I scream into the fabric. He starts fucking me hard, mercilessly, without a careful rhythm. His thighs smack against my buttocks, the sound filling the room. He slaps me once. Then again. He leaves my skin burning.

—Is this what you wanted? —he asks, his voice hoarse.

—Yes, yes, harder —I beg him.

He leans over my back, grabs my hair, and pulls gently to lift my head. He drives into me until I feel every inch. My second orgasm crashes over the first, and I come apart beneath him, shaking, clenching around his cock with spasms I can’t control.

—I’m going to come —he growls, his thrusts becoming shorter and deeper—. Where do you want it?

—Inside —I tell him with my face pressed against the mattress—. Inside, don’t pull out.

—Say it properly.

—Come in my pussy —I manage to articulate—. Fill me. That’s what he wants. That’s what I want.

That’s all it takes. He lets out a muffled roar, digs his hands into my hips, and thrusts all the way in. I feel him release inside me, spurt after hot, thick spurt, his cock throbbing against the walls of my pussy. He doesn’t pull out. He stays there on top of me, pressing me into the mattress until his final contraction fades. Then he withdraws slowly, and I instinctively squeeze my thighs together, not wanting a drop to escape.

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

—Look what I left you with —he murmurs, almost reverently, sliding two fingers through my folds and pushing the semen that’s beginning to run back inside—. Now stay like this. Legs up. Don’t let any of it come out.

I obey. I raise my hips against the pillow, and he lies down beside me, one hand on my belly, breathing heavily. His cock, still hard, rests against my thigh. I know that in a little while he’ll put it back inside me. I know he’ll do it two or three more times before my time is up.

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

I close my eyes when I feel him move again, when his hand lowers between my legs once more and his fingers sink inside me again, pushing his own semen deeper, preparing me for the next thrust. My entire 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 myself, my skin, my soaked pussy, and this forbidden desire I chose to embrace. Tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. Salgado again. But tonight, for exactly two hours, I am his alone.