Three Cakes and a Candle - Cover

Three Cakes and a Candle

by Calloway

Copyright© 2024 by Calloway

Erotica Sex Story: He was the birthday boy and his wife had a surprise for him

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Fiction   Light Bond   Group Sex   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Pegging   .

When I got home from work that afternoon I took off my coat and headed straight for the bedroom. It was my birthday, and so fully expected to find my wife dressed in something sexy to surprise me with, perhaps a new toy to play with, or a new game to play. It was tradition.

As I started up the stairs I heard her call, “Darren, is that you? I’m upstairs in our room. I have your present.”

This year her “birthday suit” was a turquoise silk number, bra and panties, the filmy bra cut low, barely containing her large breasts, her large brown areola peeking out of the top and the nipples themselves pointing through the fabric. The panties were cut high showing off her long muscular legs, and through the tiny pouch of fabric I could see that she had shaved her pubic hair sometime that day.

“You like, birthday boy?” she said as she slowly turned around, showing off her fine ass and her strong back.

I noticed the tell-tale dark patch on her panties where her thighs met, and knew she’d spent her day looking forward to this evening as much as I had. I took her hand and placed it on my hard-on. It was obvious that, yes, I did like. I reached between her legs and grabbed her ass, my wrist rubbing against the damp patch and pulled her roughly towards me. She gasped and bit my lip as I tried to kiss her, but pushed me away.

“Not so fast, birthday boy. For this you have to wait.”

She strolled over to her dresser where she picked up one of our pairs of handcuffs, the more comfortable leather ones. She also had a blindfold in her hand, and twirled them around her finger as she strolled back over to me and motioned to the bed.

“Lose the clothes and make yourself comfortable. Flat on your back, hands behind your head.”

I did what I was told. I stripped off my shirt, unbuckled my trousers and was about to kick them off into the corner.

“Hang it up.” she said, “You’re 29 now and old enough to take care of your own clothes.”

Though they were always our favourite occasions, birthdays never came cheap around our house. I made a production out of putting my clothes away, strolling naked around the room, my erection leading the way. I knew she liked my body too, and enjoyed seeing me naked. I was tight and tanned from the physical labour I did as a part time job. I told my wife I kept at it to keep my mind in shape for the more mentally demanding computer job I had as my “career.” She knew it was because I was secretly body-proud. She spent a lot of her off-time at the gym, something to which I objected. “Why pay to work out when you can get paid to work out?” I liked to say, but I never objected that strenuously. She was probably in better shape than I was myself, and even at 28 her tits were still firm and her ass was like a rock.

Eventually I had put away all my clothes and settled back contentedly on our old iron bed, arms outstretched behind me. A smug grin on my face, I rubbed my back on the bedspread, got comfortable, and waited.

She crawled up onto the bed beside me, took my hands in hers and shackled me to one of the posts on the bed. I had enough slack to be comfortable, move my arms around, but not enough to touch either her or myself. She strapped the blindfold on and adjusted it till she knew I’d be unable to see a thing.

“Okay, wrists alright, can you see?” she asked.

I knew she was sticking her tongue out at me and making funny faces in front of the blindfold without actually seeing her do it. That was her test.

“Nope, blind as a bat.,” I said, but giggled anyway.

Another one of her tests was to slowly descend on me with her breast right in front of my face. If I strained to reach it with my mouth before it grazed my lips, she would know the blindfold needed adjusting. She tried that one now, and when she poked me in the nose with her nipple without me reaching to put it in my mouth, she knew that I was indeed as blind as a bat.

She let her breast trail across my face for a while, stopping for a moment to allow me to take her nipple into my mouth through the fabric of the bra she still wore. I chewed it a bit, rubbed my cheek across the fabric, but she started down the length of my body, rubbing herself up against me as she went, kissing my chest and blowing on my skin. She hovered briefly over my nipples, taking one between her teeth and pulling on it gently. She licked my stomach and pulled my navel hair with her teeth. Her cheek grazed my hard-on, and it jumped in response. Softly she blew on the head, kissed the tip, and unexpectedly took half my length into her mouth. I groaned and arched my back, but that was just a tease. She kissed my dick lightly, got up and told me, “Hang tight, Birthday Boy, I’ll be right back.” as she kissed me gently on the mouth and left the room.

I was left alone for just a couple of moments, naked and immobile, wondering what kind of surprise she had in store this year. Then I heard our door re-open, and sensed rather than heard her come back in the room.

“So what’s up, what’s the big surprise?” I asked, but got no response.

Instead I felt a pair of lips wrap themselves around my pulsing cock-head, a set of teeth gently coaxing me to an even stiffer erection. Down came her face on my cock, taking me to the back her throat, then back up sucking softly. Her lips touched my vein, I could feel her tongue following it down the shaft to my balls, which she nibbled and cupped in her hand. My hips came off the bed so she could lick around my asshole, her tongue poking at my tight hole. Back up to my balls again, her hand grasped tightly around the shaft.

I could have come right there had she kept up with the throat work, but she stopped, and without a word, shifted position so she was straddling me, face towards my feet. She grabbed my cock again and rubbed it back and forth across her slit, lubricating it with her own juices, feeling its pulse against her clit. Then her hips dropped and I felt myself sink into her gooey wetness. Slowly she rose back up, and I could feel her muscles closing around me before she sank down once again and sat down on my pelvis. Once at the limit of her stroke, she wiggled herself back and forth, her pussy sucking against me as she moved. Back up again, slower still, till just the head of my cock was still inside her. She tried some short strokes, teasing my head with just the entrance to her tight vagina before sinking down once again. She found a rhythm eventually, long deep strokes from one extreme of my cock to the other. The rhythm sped up, and, unable to touch her back or her ass, my hips came well off the bed to meet each thrust she sent me. I was grunting by this point, deep guttural sounds each time she reached bottom. Up until now she’d been unusually quiet, but as we began to lose control, fucking in earnest now, I could hear her crying out in unison with me, higher and more insistent. Her body was slamming into mine now, she had my legs in her hands and I could feel her bent over me, slamming her buttocks into my pelvis. I could feel she was about to come soon, and knew that I would come with her.

Just a few more thrusts, I thought, and called out, “With me, with me, now, now, now, NOW!”

At the last ‘now’, my body arched and from deep inside came the first shudder of my orgasm, pulsating through me and out the tip of my cock. It was at the bottom of one of our strokes, and she ground her clit into me one last time before collapsing on top of me, relishing the throes of her own orgasm.

“Nice fuck, but is that it?”

After all, it was my birthday, and birthdays had always been way more special than a hearty fuck, even with cuffs on.

“What more do you want?” I heard my wife say.

But her voice wasn’t coming from on top of me where I figured it would have, what with my penis nestled inside her, still leaking fluid. Her voice was coming from the side of the bed! I felt an arm reach across my forehead and remove the blindfold. Yes, there was my wife, sitting in the chair by the bed, a good five feet away from the cock that had just shot its load deep in her cunt. But it wasn’t her cunt. Her cunt was still encased in the new turquoise panties, looking a little rumpled and soaking wet from what I could imagine had been a vigorous fingering through the materiel of the underwear. But if not her cunt, who’s...

“Happy birthday, Darren,” I heard from on top of me.

At first all I could see was her back, but as she swivelled around to face me, keeping me in place, I recognized my wife’s friend Sherry, looking not at all embarrassed, her tousled black bangs stuck to her forehead with her own sweat.

“Yeah, Happy Birthday Darren,” my wife said, and they both giggled mischievously.

“But ... but ... what the fuck?” I stuttered, but she held her finger to my mouth. Then she lifted her leg over me and squatted right over my face. The materiel of her panties was soaked from the session just passed. It was clear she had participated after all, though not in the way I had thought. She ground her crotch into my face as she leaned over to touch Sherry’s breasts. Had I been able to see, I could have watched her kiss Sherry long and hard, their tongues dancing around each other, hands roaming each others’ bodies. I couldn’t tell just whose finger it was that reached down to where my tongue was and pulled the fabric aside from the steaming lips of my wife’s hot pussy. My chin was bathed, and my tongue slid easily up into her hole and back out. I duelled with the finger across Helen’s swollen clit, and she ground herself against me. I could hear Sherry moaning as well, and she was rocking again on my semi-erect penis. The licking and the rocking was doing its work, and I found I was hard again, fitting Sherry a bit more snugly now.

She stopped then, and so did Helen. They both climbed off of me, still kissing and exploring each other’s bodies with their hands. I whined, but Helen once again put her finger to my lips.

“Not so fast, Birthday Boy, for this you’ll have to watch.” Her finger tasted of Sherry, and I pulled it into my mouth, sucking it hard wishing I could touch something, someone. But no dice, I was still attached to the bedstead.

“You can sit up if you want. Or maybe we should just strap you into that chair, give us more room to play.”

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