Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Birthday Boy

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At three thirty ante meridian and a lonesome night of birthday celebration behind him he wasn’t in much mood but to lay down and rest. Were it not for that hardly-ever-working elevator that was at it again forcing his aching feet to carry him up twenty floors of stairs to his apartment, he would have been sleeping off the cocktails running through his veins long ago. Not one person, even close friends noticed the date enough to call. He was a forgotten man on his very birthday.

By the time he reached the doorstep he was soaked in sweat and, panting like an out of shape middle age man. He opened the door and, not even bothering to turn the lights off, he removed then tossed his clothing in a corner. It was straight to the bathroom to wizz away some of that foreign liquid. The night-light had been left on in the bathroom. It wasn’t him, he recalled. He held his penis on his hand, pointed it to the bowl then looked down to see a note written in permanent maker floating inside.

The delight when he read it. Someone had remembered his birthday. It was a naughty note, both in contents and context. It read, “If you want ‘expletive’, come ‘vulgarity’ it, BIRTHDAY BOY.” What was he to do? He became instantly aroused. He understood it to mean to get his however he wished. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else, otherwise, why would such note be doing floating around inside the toilet bowl. Toilets after all, can’t be considered the cleanest of things. It must mean that she wants it dirty. Despite his day having passed, he was getting a present. The signs of a the drunken-meager-middle-age man were replaced with purpose and vigor. He dashed into the shower stroking his already awakened ego. He thought about nothing except cleansing his body to tackle his present.

He knew exactly where to come unwrap the present. After the shower he walked to the guest-room and felt around in the dark until he found a body sleeping face down in the nude. He wasted little time taking his. He spread her cheeks apart and situated his mouth on her anus. He licked, he bit and he spanked. She was still half asleep but her bottom moved about reacting to the compliments. By the time he touched between her legs she was saturated. His tongue alerted her of the imminent with the aid of the index finger. The cleanly shaved vulva felt tender and smooth to the touch.

A few tongue and finger strokes fully awakened her. She butt-pushed him away from her then, walked away in the dark. He was sort of puzzled, still, he followed. She walked to the balcony overlooking the city and laid face down on the floor where her yoga mat rested. She got comfortable, put her face down and closed her eyes. He was walking behind her stroking himself happy. He saw her on the floor, got on his knees and lifted her face by the hair. “Open and Suck,” said he. She reluctantly opened it, but when she did, it came right in eliciting a gagging reaction. She pulled her face back and said “No, no”.

He maneuvered over to sit between her legs. There he sat spanking, biting, kissing, licking it all in sight. Sometimes she’d reject the spanks but, would give in to his whim when reminded that having written such note didn’t afford her a voice. She was to take it whichever way “Birthday Boy” desired. He traced her lips with his tongue until water drowned the “man in the boat”. He entrapped her clitoris until her body went into a shaking frenzy followed by moans, sighs and pants. She was still enjoying the fruit of his labor when he stopped to again walk over to her face lift, and ask her to suck. “No, no,” she repeatedly said. “I didn’t write the note, did?”, “Did I?” he asked. She shook her head no, and allowed his penis in her mouth. A few strokes touching the back of her throat was all that he wanted. He was only looking for some lubrication before opening the present.

He found himself seated on her thighs, her legs closely held together. He leaned over her to shove it in. He thrusted his whim over and over; each time looking to reach farther in. She tried to reach back to prevent the deepest of thrusts but, he blocked the attempts by crossing her hands behind her back and while holding them with one hand, he grabbed her hair and pulled her up, asking if “Birthday Boy” was doing what she presumed when writing the note and placing it inside the toilet. She didn’t speak. She only moaned.

The friction from the floor against his knees would have stopped him most days yet, the arousing thought that this woman, practically a stranger, had left an alluring note for him to find in the most of peculiar locations kept him interested in taking what he wanted. The idea of climaxing all over her ass entered his mind again and again; just the sight for a well opened present, he thought. So he squeezed her butt and spanked. Loudly and rhetorically questioning why she’d written such note.

She finally spoke but, to tell him to hush down not to awaken neighbors. That wasn’t the response he had in mind. He stood her up, got her up on the living-room couch in all four, and shoved it in holding on to her waist to deliver violent clashes of skin against skin to her rump. She was quick to replace words of concern with exclamations of pleasure, gasps of a body being had. He continued telling her if she was enjoying his unwrapping. If she wanted it harder. That he was going to spill it all over her butt and vulva then bend down and smear it everywhere with his mouth as he sucked her pulsating pleasure to another climax. Take that, take it like a good lady. She had by now given up fighting back and hushing him. She was now enjoying the emotions overcoming her. Just when he was going to climax he withdrew, grabbed it, and jerked it in the direction where he wanted the results to land. She was covered in him. He was panting, still squeezing her butt, gently spanking it, and kissing the low of her back.

… in the morning when she opened the shower curtain to bathe, there was the note; permanent marker having left visible writings against the tub floor. She smiled, then asked him to come see. He still wanted more, still aroused by the note itself. She refused his approach with the invalid excuse that she was sore, that it was only yesterday his birthday. He still thinks about it, still hoping for the year between birthdays to come by a little faster.

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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