Chai, I love my wife.
Her name is Ogechi, and everybody calls her Oge. She’s perfect. She works a full-time job as a chartered accountant. She cooks, cleans, and does the laundry and shopping. She manages our budget, and she cares for our home.
She’s a slim, dark-haired thirty-year-old hottie that pounces on me for sex at least twice a week. Plus, she’s smarter than me, and she can deepthroat like a pro.
I don’t deserve her. I’m not sure anyone does.
The sick part? I was still only 99% happy. So why the 1% hold-out? I’ll be blunt: she wouldn’t let me put it in her ass.
I know, I know, I’m an ungrateful bastard.
I had tried everything to get her in the mood for anal. Soft music. Massages. Long hot baths. Weed. Meth. We even tried cocaine once.
But nothing worked. I heard the same things over and over.
“Exit only, honey.”
“Why is your tongue in my butt again?”
“Slide that dick back up to the right hole or I’ll break it off, Joe.”
It was driving me crazy.
I love my wife. She’s gorgeous. I’m in lust with her fantastic little heart-shaped ass. It looks incredible in jeans. In fact, it’s how we met. Nine years ago, I picked her up in the supermarket after following her swaying butts and nicely braided hair all the way through the market before working up the courage to ask her out.
We hit it off great. But I soon found out that her perfect tush was just for looking. No pokey-pokey. Or licky-licky. Maybe some rubby-rubby, but that was it.
Seven years of marriage later, I was going insane. Not being able to take advantage of my wife’s bouncy butt was like owning a Ferrari and you’re not allowed to drive. It just didn’t seem right.
The funny part is that my wife was sympathetic. She actually felt bad about not being into anal. No way in hell she was going to do it, but she felt bad about it.
For my thirty-second birthday, she solved the problem. Did I mention that my wife is smarter than me? I think it was right before the part about her deepthroating like a pro.
It started about two months before my birthday. I came home from work, and my wife was packing up a carton. It had a really weird mix of stuff inside: chin-chin, doughnut, socks, a sellotape, a cosy pillow, some paper towels, a couple of bottles of wine and…
I looked closer…
A bottle of lube? And a dildo? And a little buttplug? And a boxed set of DVDs titled “Crazy Ass Slut Vols. 1-6”?
“Uh, honey?” I reached down into the box to pick up the videos. I was amazed she even knew where to buy things like this.
My wife smacked my hand away. “Hey! It’s not for you.”
“Oh. So who’s it for?”
“Sorry man, can’t tell you. I’m working on your birthday present.”
“You’re sending someone else porn as part of my birthday present?”
“Yep.”
“Riiiiight. I’m going to grab a beer and go sit in the backyard until I figure this out.”
“Good luck,” she smiled as she taped the box closed.
I couldn’t figure it out.
Something suspiciously similar happened a month later. I had just swept the living room, and I was taking a shower.
My wife came into the bathroom with a digital camera. She took off her clothes, dug a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream out of the cabinet, and got in the shower with me.
I saw where this was going when she spread some shaving cream on my nuts.
“You haven’t shaved my balls since our honeymoon.”
“I want you to look good for some sexy pictures.”
“So that’s what the camera is for?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
She hummed to herself happily as she finished my sac and then shaved the patch above my shaft too. When she finished, she rinsed me clean and pulled me into her mouth for the deepthroat treatment.
Damn, I love my wife.
She bobbed and slurped on my seven-inch pole and smiled up at me while she did it.
Then she popped her mouth free, turned off the water, and grabbed her camera. She used it to snap a few pics of my stiffy from different angles.
“Uh, honey. What do you plan on doing with these pictures?” I wondered.
“Can’t tell you, I’m working on your birthday present.”
“Riiiiight.”
She ditched the camera and came back to swallow me again. About two minutes later, I was grunting and spewing cum down her throat. She happily gulped over and over again until I finished.
Then she kissed the tip of my deflating dick and smacked me on the butt on her way out of the shower, “You’re welcome.”
“Was that part of my birthday present too?”
“Naah, that was just a blowjob.”
She smiled as she picked her camera up and left.
“I’m going to figure this out,” I yelled down the hall.
“Uh huh, good luck,” I heard her laugh.
I couldn’t figure it out.
What really threw me was when the delivery guys showed up at our house the next Saturday. They carted off our older washing machine and installed a set of new, high-capacity, front-loading ones.
My wife came downstairs just in time to sign their paperwork.
“So what’s with the new appliances, Oge?”
“Can’t tell you, I’m working on…”
“…my birthday present,” I sighed.
“Yep,” she smiled brightly and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss my nose, “Come on upstairs and fuck me as a thank you. You might as well get a head start. You’ll have a lot of thank-me fucking to do after you get your present.”
I fucked her. I had no idea what I was thanking her for. But I fucked her.
Finally, my goddamn birthday came. Nothing freaky happened in the morning. My wife and I both got ready for work like usual. She did give me a nice long smooch as we climbed into our cars, and then she told me to get home from work as soon as I could.
Of course, it was an incredibly shitty day at work. Worse, traffic sucked on the way home. Fridays are always the ugliest where we live. It was after seven o’clock before I even pulled into the garage.
I had to step over a huge, unfamiliar bag packed with dirty clothes lying in the laundry room. The spiffy new washing machine was already going. I made the turn into the kitchen and was happy and sad at the same time.
Happy because our old next-door neighbour’s daughter was chatting with my wife. Ireti had always been a nice girl. Oge and I were the older brother and sister she never had. She used to hang out at our house all the time. We even gave her a key.
Of course, Ireti had turned into a drop-dead hottie as she grew up too. The friendly and nosy ten-year-old I met developed into a nubile young heartstopper before she moved away.
I looked at Ireti standing behind the counter next to my wife. Her big brown eyes, and fit little tennis player’s body were probably driving the guys at her university horny.
“Ireti!”
“Happy birthday, Joe!” she grinned. She bounced with excitement, and I watched her perky chest bob up and down under her t-shirt. And yet she didn’t run over to hug me like she used to.
Maybe she had outgrown me, or maybe I was an uncool old guy now. Well, I was 32. That freaked me out. Plus, Ireti’s unannounced visit meant that whatever sexy fun my wife had planned for my birthday would have to wait.
I felt old. Old and horny. That’s a crappy combo.
I had just about lost hope, but I still asked, “So Oge, can you at least tell me what you got me for my birthday?”
My wife pointed at Ireti, who was now practically vibrating with excitement. Her ponytail was twitching back and forth behind her head.
“Ireti has my birthday present?”
“No sweetie, she is your birthday present.”
I looked at the girl, “You’re my birthday present?”
“Yep, I’m your birthday present,” she cheered, lifting her arms in the air.
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