Lust Unleashed
For the life of me, I just simply couldn't seem to believe what an amazing birthday this was turning out to be. I'd never, ever, really managed to enjoy anything remotely close to a happy birthday, and as I was getting older, it was becoming harder and harder to see these days as anything more than a continuation of my descent into old age. And I mean hell, for that matter, I wasn't exactly over the hill or anything, either. Just my late twenties, which wasn't at all the sort of age that a person should go around throwing in the towel.
But, I don't know. Maybe I just didn't feel like I'd gotten what I'd wanted out of life on a number of levels, and that made the prospect of aging seem more harrowing than it actually was. There were so many things I'd taken too long to get around to in life, and I came to regret it more and more with each passing year. For the longest time, I'd been something of a shy person, suffice it to say, and my plethora of inhibitions had always gone a long way in preventing the sort of life I'd really wanted for myself.
It was better now, I guess. Not perfect, not by any means, but I lived a happy enough life with my husband, and I had long since learned to appreciate the little things, the blessings that so often go overlooked by a person. I'd gotten through some of my shyness, and could at least enjoy life now, but days such as birthdays tended to emphasize just how much time I'd lost all the while.
But this year was different. This year, I didn't feel like I was getting old any more, and in fact I felt almost younger than ever in my present state of mind. I felt like I was really, actually celebrating the gift of being alive, living to the fullest for a change and simply taking things as they came along.
And I knew, with every fiber of my being, that it was my husband I had to thank for all of this, him and him alone, and in so many, many ways. At present, I stared at Charles across the table. Our dinner at this most exquisite of fine restaurant has been an amazing experience, and the man, sitting across from me, lit by candle light as he was, seeming almost angelic in appearance. We both had a reasonable amount of wine in our systems by this point, and before our server had returned with our meals, we'd spent a great amount of the evening playing footsies with one another underneath the table.
I was, suffice it to say, getting very, very hot for my immaculate love by this point in the evening. Leering over at him with a pair of unmistakable bedroom eyes, my nostrils flaring, and my body squirming and shifting into very suggestive positions so as to lure him into me- as though he really needed enticing at this point, because I could tell by his demeanor that he was about as eager to take me when we made it home as I was to be taken by him.
God, I had so much to thank this man for. So much of what had at last gone right for me in life were a result of him stepping into the picture, and taking me under his wing, so to speak, when no one else seemed able to break me out of my shell.
I'm not sure what it was, exactly, that had always kept me so quiet and unassuming before. I mean, for that matter, I guess there doesn't have to be a real reason for that sort of thing. Some days I liked to blame the extremely conservative manner in which I was raised, or any number of other circumstances in my life. But I knew that no such factors would ever fully account for the way I was. I was just sheepish, awkward about putting myself out there, and coupled with my appearance, this tended to be quite the recipe for sheer frustration.
I had always been a beautiful girl. Starting college, I could have taken a man's breath away had I possessed the nerve to look him in the eyes long enough. I had sleek, blonde hair, a beautiful, angelic face, and a petite figure that was almost agonizing to behold, everything perfectly portioned, every nook and every crevice in precisely the right spot along my charming little anatomy. Had I been brave enough to actually make use of what I had and not hidden myself away all the time, I probably could have had just about any guy I set my heart on, and have made my way out of the infuriating hole of my shyness far sooner than I ended up doing.
But, the fact of the matter was, I just never quite seemed capable of breaking free of it, and I tended to just shy away any time any guy at all showed me any sort of affection whatsoever. Eventually, the guys around me stopped making any sort of advances. I guess because they mistook my shyness for being stuck up, and thought that I couldn't possibly want anything to do with them.
But this wasn't at all the case. As shy and unassuming as I might have seemed to those around me, I actually had a very passionate heart, and I craved love just as much as the next girl. And in fact, for the longest time, I'd pined for one very fine gentleman in particular, a classmate of mine from high school, Bobby Jones.
God, how I had my heart broken by that glorious creature, time and time again. Or, rather, how I broke my own heart in my inability to work up the nerve to talk to him, and how greatly I suffered watching him with all of the many girlfriends he had over the course of our high school years together. In hindsight, it would have been so easy, just to go up and talk to him, to let him know how I felt for him in exchange for finally feeling safe and secure in my own skin.
Some days I wondered about it, and I'd even confided this to my husband on occasion, even though I felt certain it was something that would make him uncomfortable. But it was hard as hell not to wonder, you know? How differently might my life have turned out had I just told Bobby how I felt about him, instead of keeping it all to myself for so long? Would I have broken free from my shyness that much earlier, and been able to make the most out of my youth like I'd always wished I had?
Who the hell knew?
The only thing I knew was that obsessing over it all was absolutely pointless on my part, and the fact of my repeatedly doing so was forever a manner of thorn in my paw. I mean, of course it's normal to consider the road not traveled in life, but eventually I just had to let it go, and accept that things had not turned out as I'd wanted to back then, and they never would. Maybe, if they had, I would have started enjoying my birthdays long before the present point in time, but whether or not that was the case, it didn't really matter anymore.
What did matter was the fact that, in spite of it all, despite my near certainty that I would never find the love of my life or be saved from my own unhappiness, things had somehow panned out in spite of all odds. And all, as I mentioned before, thanks to my amazing, loving husband.
It's almost a sort of miracle that the two of us had even ended up meeting, really. Sometimes, to this day, I simply can't believe how insanely I lucked out the way that I did, and I have to count my blessings repeatedly just to ensure that the beautiful life I live is, in fact, a reality.
It had happened one evening during my senior year of college, during the finals week of the first semester. That whole past year had been somewhat hellish for me, and I'd been struggling for some time to keep my grades up to where they needed to be in order to hold onto my scholarship. At the time, I'd been attempting to study for three different final exams at once, flipping from paper to paper and back again and easily confusing the contents of one subject for the other. Of no particular help in the matter of my keeping focused was the fact that everyone in my residence hall was making about the loudest racket you could imagine. Completely disregarding the fact that this was final's week, and that people who actually gave a damn about their education were trying to study.
What made it especially astounding, the happiest sort of coincidence, in fact, that I should meet Charles that night, was that the two of us first encountered one another at a bar. Under any normal circumstances I was not much of a drinker at all. For the longest time, because of my upbringing, I'd never even touched the stuff. But, given my present state of mind, and the pressure I was under, some alcohol in my system seemed like the precise sort of antidote I needed. And, not to mention, my residence hall was so rambunctious at that point that I almost imagined a bar to be a quieter place to get things done.
It was, to a minor degree at least, and with my headphones in and a dark corner booth secured, I at last managed to whittle my ways slowly through the volumes of coursework that still needed to be memorized before the week was up.
And that's when Charles had spotted me, seeing me clear from the bar, and, his words, becoming instantly enamored by the sheer beauty of that quite little girl in the corner. Not knowing my shy nature, he had approached me, and under any other circumstances, I might have had quite the disastrous nervous breakdown.
But, things as they were, alcohol in my system and my mind so strung out on my studies, when he said hello to me I somehow managed to look at him, without shying away, and to respond to him in a manner that was almost halfway normal. Admittedly, I could feel the skin of my cheeks flushing absolutely scarlet with embarrassment, and I could feel goosebumps and sweat mingling all down along the course of my neck and spine.
But somehow, God only knows how, I managed to end up having a complete, reasonably sensible conversation with the charming man, and the next thing I knew of it the two of us were planning a first date together. And the rest, after that, was just history...
I had been, admittedly, very nervous at first. Charles was a couple of years older than me, and I could tell that he was almost certainly more experienced than I was from a single glance. God, he was an attractive man. Broad shoulders and a thick chest, muscular features, and a gaze so deep and so penetrating that it almost made me melt inside.
I, meanwhile, was still a virgin, and had never even really had a boyfriend up to that point. I'd been on a few very uncomfortable dates, but they'd never really gone anywhere given my own uncertainty with myself, and I felt certain I would royally eff things up with this new, cute hottie as well.
And yet, somehow, that never occurred. Things never went south in the way I'd almost come to expect them to, and in fact, things seemed to go off entirely without a hitch. I think, God bless the cute bastard, that Charles seemed to intuit my almost inherent sense of anxiety, and he respectfully took things very, very slow with me on behalf of the fact.
And before I knew it, I was actually beginning to swoon for the man, to fall deeply in love in the manner I'd so long craved to have happen to me, and to have my problems suddenly shrink into the distance thanks to the force of the love he provided me.
It was several dates before the two of us had sex, him respecting my virginity as well as the other aspects of my shyness, until at last we decided that it was time to consummate the love that we'd been building up together for the past several weeks. He took things in the bedroom very gentle with me that first, splendid time, and as the affair progressed I realized that it was turning out far more pleasurable and agonizing than I would ever have imagined. I absolutely loved the union of our flesh, the combining of our bodies as he ravished me and put himself inside me, and after so very long of having been the shy little nobody all the time, I was at last allowing my true, inner vixen to come to light.
After that first time, sex became a regular part of our relationship, and almost all of the inhibitions that had held me down prior to that first lay came crashing down around me. As it turned out, I was an absolute animal in the sack once I pushed myself to get engaged, and the two of us engaged in any number of intense carnal acts together in the bedroom.
The two of us simply couldn't get enough of one another, and continually pushed our limits further and further with each roll in the hay, always trying new things, always looking to explore one another in some new way, and the results, almost invariably, splendid to say the least.
Suffice it to say, after so many months of the two of us absolutely hypnotized and consumed by one another's presence, the two of us ended up getting engaged, settling down together, and things from there on out seeming largely more hopeful than ever.
Of course, though, as I mentioned at the outset, it was hard not to occasionally find myself dwelling on the past, and on birthdays in particular it became a challenge not to remember all of the time I'd wasted prior to the two of us meeting. And of course, after so many years of me moping around in this way on my special day, it was only natural that Charles should catch onto it, and this year I could tell he was going that extra mile to ensure that things were a bit more enjoyable for me all throughout it.
It had all started that morning.
I'd been sleeping faintly, only halfway conscious and part of me still trapped in slumber. I was dreaming something, although I forgot shortly after waking what it was, but I feel like it had something to do with my discomfort regarding what day it was. It was a surprised to be suddenly stirred into alertness, blinking my eyes hard, and trying to gain my composure.
After a moment of this bewilderment, I discovered that it was my husband, kissing me awake, in the gentlest, most romantic of ways. Almost immediately, a smile spread wide across my lips, and I allowed my eyelids to flutter back shut again, simply taking in the pleasure of this genuine treat, and not allowing my mind to process anything else in the world but his love.
His lips dripped all along me, feeling absolutely terrific as they slid from my shoulder up along my neck, my flesh being nibbled upon as though it was the most exquisite thing he'd ever tasted. My body was still a little bit groggy, but I began to come to life the more and more he ran these sweet pecks all along my flesh, my pelvis trembling and my legs beginning to work as I struggled to contain myself. His kisses, though, were just too sweet for me, and before I knew it, my eyes were springing open, and I was gasping sensually with delight at the pressing of his mouth against my warm, moist flesh.
I received him, leaning over to him on the bed and pulling his face up into me, the two of our faces melting together into a hot, fleshy alloy. His tongue rolled into my gullet, and I allowed mine to join his own, the two of them twisting and swirling around between our mouths, getting us both incredibly worked up, and my head getting lighter and lighter as the moments ticked on. I savored the feeling of him, pushing into me, burying me beneath his warm, hard weight, clambering onto my body with his own, and smothering me so fantastically that I could hardly stand it.
He wore almost nothing as he climbed across my body, holding and pulling me tighter and tighter by the minute, squeezing me so tightly I thought I might burst. The skimpy little boxers around his waist concealed next to nothing, and I could feel him hardening up against my thigh, his erection grinding up against my flesh and getting me so damn aroused it made me dizzy.
For my part, all I wore was a silky lavender nighty, tiny and easily displaced, with the fabric being dredged all over with the squirming of his flesh about my anatomy, so that direct contact between our burning naughty bits seemed like nothing less than an inevitability.
His hands were on my breasts, squeezing on my tits through the fabric, the straps of the nighty falling beautifully down along my arms. He then finished the job, pulling them the remainder of the way down, so that my breasts were now in full view out in the open, and ready to be devoured by this sexy beast.
He leaned in yet again, clamping his fingers into my flesh and squeezing me with the force of a vice, pinching on my nipples, and causing me to cry out with pleasure. He kissed me harder than ever, then, licking my cheeks and then sliding his mouth off of my own altogether. Down along my neck he nibbled yet again, unable, it seemed, to get enough of me, but certainly doing his damnedest to try. He let his mouth dissolve once again on my dainty shoulder, and then slowly, very slowly, he tumbled on down to my breasts as well.
I groaned with sheer, unadulterated passion as he suckled on me, nursing from my anatomy like a newborn, his teeth sinking into me and stretching out my sensitized nipple, and his tongue rolling warmly through my cleavage in a manner that positively drove me up the wall.
His hands were all over my body now, sliding along my sides, groping and caressing me and causing me to start with shock and sheer, splendid agony. The small of my back, now, pressing his fingers into me, and causing a jolt of sensation to go rippling through my body. And now, God help me, peeling his fingers up along my thighs, sliding them up beneath the nighty, and getting dangerously close to some extra sensitive territory.
And then, the next thing I knew, the silky sheen of the nighty was being pulled up off of me altogether, dredged along my anatomy and up over my head, wriggling away in the manner of a snake shedding its skin, my sweaty, heaving body being revealed to him in its morning vulnerability, and every nerve ending lit up and was ready to be overloaded by his love.
His fingers then slid beneath the lacy fabric of my panties, wriggling them down along my legs, and sliding them from my feet. I was almost nervous waiting for what was to happen next, and suddenly my eyes went wide as he put his fingers in me, swiping and sweeping around the wetness of my pussy, and causing me to cry out contentedly with passion.
And as he fingered me, rubbing my clit and stroking me up into a haze of vicious pleasure, his kisses began to recede down along my body, giving my tits a few last strokes, and then moving on along to my abdomen, my sides, every inch of my flesh available to him was subjected to his kisses. The next thing I knew he was disappearing from view, his head dipping beneath the blankets, and leaving me anticipating his next action with bated breath.
I gasped, my lungs almost pained as my body expanded reactively, my buttocks clenching, and my fingers curling into the bedspread. Shivering, I allowed my eyes to close gently, inhaling, and trying not to collapse with the pleasure of his movements. His tongue slowly traced around the wet, floral folds of my pussy, dripping into every dark nook, soaking up every inch of me, and eating me out with such an insane degree of expertise that I could scarcely believe it.
I watched through the haze of my pleasure as the lump of his head beneath the sheets proceeded to bob and to dip, to move rhythmically as he went down on me with sheer oral expertise, each slightness of movement absolutely devastating, and every second that rolled by far sweeter and more acute than the last.
“Oh, yeeeeeeah... Oh, Godddddd...” I groaned, and I began to move, to gyrate somewhat as though to push his face deeper into me. The bed began to rock, and he began to eat me harder, deeper, making me wetter by the second. My legs closed around his head, my thighs wrapping around his bobbing skull and pulling him into me like there was no tomorrow, and I allowed myself to continue tumbling down along that glorious slope toward sheer ecstasy, orgasm overflowing, and causing me to light up like a damn firework with pleasure.
I came, hard as hell, screaming at the top of my lungs as chemicals began to shoot in torrents up into my brain. Having this glorious sexpot of a man go down on me first thing in the morning was, perhaps, the most glorious start to my day that I could have imagined, and as far as my birthday was concerned, I imagined it might just be enough to get the course of events started off on something resembling the right foot.
And that was far, far, far from the only present he gave me.
Almost immediately after kissing my pussy for me until I came, my sweet stud of a man scooped me up out of bed and whisked me away into the bathroom with him to shower off. The two of us stood for some time in the shower together, our naked bodies pressed into one another and his arms securely around me, pulling me into himself, his hard cock sliding between my buttocks as he leaned in and ran kisses along my neck from behind.
Unsurprisingly, the two of us ended up having sex in there, and it was quite the steamy, mind-boggling affair. There was something that bordered weirdly between gentle and rough in his movements as he bent me over, doing me hard but with a degree of consideration, grinding, pumping, setting me alight with sensation from head to toe.
Harder and harder and harder he plowed me, faster and faster and faster, driving me up once again toward the point that I thought I might burst. My breasts swinging as he drilled and pumped and thrusted and fucked, and my screams almost deafening as things ramped up toward their pinnacle.
God, I was going to be exhausted by this day before it even had the chance to begin...
With several last, long, hard strokes, he pushed deep into my body one final time, holding himself there, and beginning to cum all over me inside. He filled me up, his essence drenching me in abundance, and setting me once again over the edge. Orgasm shot through my body, my limbs quivering and my vision blurred, until at last I had to close my eyes and bite my lip just to be able to survive my way through the ordeal.
And at last, after so much torment that it seemed almost inhumane, he pulled himself out of me, lying down on the tub, and pulling my body down onto him like a blanket. It was like an instant little cat nap, then, as he nibbled on my flesh in the afterglow, running his fingers through my wet hair and blowing lightly into my ear, in a manner that caused me to giggle like a schoolgirl from the tenderness.
We kissed, and I probably could have gone another round in my present state of friskiness, but instead he did something that turned out to be far, far sweeter.
Pulling back out from underneath my weight, Charles stood me up in front of him, the stream of the shower beating thickly down onto my body. He began to wash me, to run a wet rag over the surface of my anatomy, stooping on his knees as he soaped up and cleared away every surface of my flesh, in a manner that almost made it seem as though he was worshiping my body like a sweet, splendid temple.
For some time he continued to wash me, to such an extent that I felt largely surprised that the water didn't go cold.
Then, at last, he rose back up to his full height, giving me a last kiss on the lips, and turning off the water. He pulled me out of the tub, and carefully, reverently drying me off. He rubbed oil all over my warm, moist skin, anointing me in a way that made me feel incredible, and when at last he was finished, he gave me a playful smack on the rump with the palm of his hand, causing me to bust out giggling.
“Alright,” he said, smiling his most charming smile, “Go and put on your prettiest outfit. I have a lot planned for you for your special day.”
And I'll be damned if he was kidding, about that either. Because from the moment we'd stepped out the door to the present, it seemed he was bound and determined to provide me the absolute happiest birthday I'd ever celebrated, taking me anywhere and everywhere I could possibly have hoped to go, and making me feel so loved and special that I could barely even believe it.
The two of us had spent the day together visiting boutiques, browsing through an absolutely beautiful art exhibit, taking a stroll through the park, and at last going out to have dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town. And, from the way things were looking just now, the promise of an even steamier sexual rendezvous on the horizon seemed like it was surely imminent...