The Birthday Bang

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He had come to visit me for my birthday. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, our last moments together were pressed up against a wall at a bar at a holiday party. The thoughts of him had lingered for the next two months and I knew what I wanted for my present.

I was throwing a huge party for myself. I made the invitations, secured all the alcohol and did all the necessary cleaning. I invited all of the right people and made sure he was at the top of the list because at the end of the night, I wanted one thing and one thing only–to finally hook up with him.

I wore a plunging red dress and he showed up in a suit, looking more dashing then he had in December. We caught passes of each other all night, grabbed a drink in a doorway, and stole a moment on the stairs. We both knew how it was going to end. He had come in from out of town after all, but neither one said anything. Instead, we just mentally eye fucked each other all night.

The party started to clear out around two and he and I were both riding the waves of an appropriate birthday buzz. I looked around and thought I should start cleaning, but immediately thought better of it, grabbed his tie and said, “Let’s go.”

We trudged up the stairs, away from the empty cups and strewn snacks and burst into my bedroom. He picked me up without hesitation, threw me on my bed and leaned in to say,”I’ve been waiting all night to do this.” I smiled and pulled him in close.

It wasn’t long before his suit was on the floor and my dress was MIA. We made out in a sweaty frenzy, groping wildly at each other. I always knew that he was well-endowed. I could just tell by the way he carried himself, but up until this point, it was simply speculation. I was pleasantly surprised and shocked when I found his nine inches of deliciousness ready and waiting.

I didn’t want to waste time on the foreplay; I just wanted the main act. It was my birthday and I’d screw how I pleased, so I told him to get a condom and get to it. He slipped the rubber on and tried to get inside, but nothing happened. We tried again and again, but he wouldn’t fit. My liquor buzz was waning and I was getting frustrated.

I pushed him off of me and told him to turn over; I wasn’t giving up. I climbed on him upside down and positioned myself over his face, my face over him and got to work. He took the cue and got to work as well.

It took me a minute to realize that something seemed off. I was throat deep when I felt a tinge of something that didn’t seem normal, but my clouded brain made it hard to ascertain. I laid there working my hands, trying to pinpoint what was happening. And then my brain caught up.

“Are you… is that my… wait. Are you licking my butthole?”

“What? No!” “Nope, you totally are!” I climbed off laughing.I was too drunk to know my butthole was getting licked and he was too drunk to tell the difference. I could tell he felt embarrassed, but I wanted to keep the momentum going, we couldn’t lose traction now.

I reached into my drawer and pulled out my lube from Adam and Eve. I wasn’t giving up on this large, glorious penis. I slicked him down and told him to try again.

It was tough at first, like wedging a square into a circle, but after enough persistence, we got it going. And despite his inability to distinguish between my bits, the man knew what he was doing. That is, until we looked down and realized that I had started my period…

This was the first of the many sexual encounters gone wrong that I had with his man. It was almost as if we received some sort of cosmic retribution when we got together, like we had to pay for previous sexual mishaps and bad judgement. It was always good, but wrapped up in a lot of bad.

We no longer sleep together.

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