A Birthday Surprise -

Cyra Wilde 11-13 minutes 5/11/2021

Discovering my inner femdomme.

Cyra Wilde

“Happy birthday, Jules!” my best friend and partner-in-crime, Becca, declares as she swings open the door. Her smile is triumphant. “Like what you see?”

Clad in nothing but a towel around his waist, the stud waiting in the private suite is tall and possibly a decade younger than me.

“This is a mistake,” I blurt out.

Becca laughs. “I have a strong feeling you won’t regret this.”

Newly divorced from Steve, I went out with Becca and a bunch of girlfriends two months ago. I remember feeling tired of being lonely. I wanted to have fun. Go on an adventure. That night, I vowed to allocate time for myself, enjoy life, and get laid more often, since Steve and I hadn’t had sex in five years. I didn’t think Becca would take me seriously, especially for the last part. Last week, when she suggested we go to a sex club for my 40th birthday and said she’d got everything planned out, I didn’t quite buy it.

“Well…” My brain is still trying to process the Greek God sitting in the middle of the bed with a face chiseled to perfection and muscles sculpted from marble.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” Becca whispers. “He’s got the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.”

I give her a dubious look. “How big?”

“At least ten inches.”

“Holy shit. How much does he cost?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, honey. He’s all yours tonight. He’ll do anything you ask.” She quirks an immaculate brow at me.


“Uh-huh, unless there’s a hidden side of you I don’t know about.” She chuckles. “In which case the two of you’ll have to negotiate. You’re not chickening out, are you?”

“What do you think I am? A nun?” Even if I’m nervous as hell, there’s no way I’ll pass this up.

“That’s the spirit. Now go get your screaming orgasms, girl, and give me all the juicy details later,” she says, shoving me inside and closing the door.

There are candles everywhere, bathing the entire room in a dreamy, golden glow. Everything is much too perfect. A sudden claustrophobic feeling creeps in, being in the dim space with a total stranger. A hot and half-naked stranger.

The man rises and walks over, his deep, baritone voice reeling me in. “Good evening, Jules. I’m Keith.” Pinning his bright blue eyes on me with a blazing stare that makes my mouth go dry, he leads me toward the couch.

I sink into the comfy cushion. He slides in next to me and pours us two glasses of champagne.

Up close, he’s even more breathtaking, sex oozing from every inch of his flawless skin. His scent invades my senses — a heady mix of sandalwood and musk, clean and manly.

After warming up with some small talk, I blurt out, “I’ve never done this before.” Like an idiot, I add, “You know what ‘this’ means, right? Not sex, but— ”

“I know,” he cuts me off before I can further embarrass myself. A devious grin, the kind that shoots a tingle straight to my core, lends him a striking visage. “Don’t worry. There’s a first time for everything. The question is, how can I make this birthday of yours memorable?”

I might as well take full advantage of the time Becca has so generously paid for. Good thing she insisted on having a few drinks before coming here. Trust her to take care of everything, including my nerves. Armed with liquid courage pumping through my veins, I decide to go along with the scenario.

“I came here to get laid. So I guess you’ll have to fuck me senseless.” With that ten-inch cock of yours.

“Is there any fantasy you’d like us to play out?”

“Not really.” I haven’t thought about it, actually… there are plenty of ideas, though. Like any other woman, I want to feel desired. No, scratch that. I want to be to be treated like a goddess. I’d like to see a man on his knees, confident enough to surrender.

“Sweetheart, it’s your birthday, and I’m here to fulfill your wishes. You can be honest with me.”

“Well, then, ever since Fifty Shades, I’ve had this BDSM fantasy. Nothing too rough. A bit of spanking and nails and hair pulling, perhaps.”

Fifty Shades, huh?” He chuckles and leans in, his chin nuzzling into my neck, and growls. “We could do a scene if you like.”

His stubble rubbing against my skin sends a shiver through me. “I haven’t finished. See, my ex-husband and I already tried that. I don’t think it’s my cup of tea.”


“Yeah, I’d like to boss a man around for a change. Be the one in charge. Can you make me the happiest woman in this joint tonight, Keith?”

“Mmm, a tall order. Lucky for you, I’m a switch. And, of course, you” — he takes the flute from me and sets both glasses on the coffee table — “deserve to be celebrated.” Leaning in once more, he brushes the hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear in one fluid motion. My skin sparks where his fingers touch.

He sinks to his knees in front of me. “Now, tell me what to do, Jules.”

“That’s it? No safe word?”

He smirks. “I don’t need one. Don’t worry, love. It’s consensual non-consent. I’m yours tonight.”

Oh, he probably thinks I’m not the extreme type, that I won’t push him too far. We’ll see about that.

He squeezes my thighs. “Trust me. I can handle it, Jules.”

“In that case… I want you to take off my clothes, starting with my panties.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

My pussy throbs a little. I like this already.

His hand slides up my calf, the back of my knee, into my inner thigh, and finally reaches my underwear. He glides the pad of his thumb along the lace. My breath hitches. His fingers slip underneath, exploring, and already, I ache for him to fill me.

“Oh, you little tease,” I breathe. “Hurry up and take them off.”

This time, he obliges by shoving down my black lace panties and tossing them away.

Hands splayed behind me, I’m seated with my chest thrust out and feet slightly apart. “Eat me out, Keith.”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his smoldering gaze roams my curves and zeroes in on my crotch. With a maddeningly smug smile, he hooks his hands under my thighs and yanks me to the edge of the couch.

His head dips between my legs. He takes his time, planting kisses on my inner thighs, shifting closer and closer to my core. The tip of his tongue drags along my slick folds.

Pleasure zips through me. I’m all heat and electricity, sparks everywhere. It’s been far too long.

His strokes are demure at first — soft kitten licks that drive me crazy. They’re precise. Persistent.

I wriggle impatiently, arching my back, pressing against his face, seeking more pressure.

His mouth closes around my clit. He sucks — hard.

I grasp his dark, glossy hair. “Oh, yes. More.”

He slips two fingers inside me. His tongue flutters over my bud in tandem with his digits pumping in and out.

A need builds in my core, soft liquid heat. My head snaps back. My words flow out in a breathless rush. “Oh, that’s it, Keith. Oh, God. Don’t stop. Be a good boy and make me come.”

He licks and sucks and fingerbangs me relentlessly, working me to a frenzy. It’s the perfect birthday gift. His other hand finds my breast, pinches my nipple.

I let go. Unravel. A toe-curling orgasm ignites every nerve in me. I whimper his name. Moan endlessly. My thighs clamp around his head.

When I finally catch my breath, I register my surroundings. The sight of the Greek God still kneeling in front of me is a major turn-on. He’s wearing a somewhat victorious smirk.

A primal hunger consumes me. What can I say? Five years is too damn long. I’m insatiable. “We’re not done.”

“I know.” He rises and tugs me to my feet.

Standing behind me, Keith lowers the zipper of my black dress inch by inch. He peels it off my shoulders and whispers, “You’re so beautiful.”

The silky fabric caresses my skin as it slides down slowly and pools around my ankles.

He unclasps my bra with ease, freeing my full, heavy breasts. My nipples harden from exposure.

I step out in my red pumps and twirl around. Enjoying his heated stare and feeling extremely bold in my sexual haze, I demand, “Kiss me, Keith.”

His mouth crushes against mine, lips soft and wet, and I taste myself on his tongue. He kisses me as if he’s been waiting to do this all his life and I’m the air he’s breathing.

My hands wrap around his neck, fist in his hair. Our kiss deepens. I rip away his towel and push him onto the couch. I climb onto his lap, coating his erect and gorgeous cock with my wetness. God, Becca isn’t kidding. The guy is huge.

I whisper another command between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “Take me to bed.”

Cupping my butt, he stands. An impressive display of strength. My legs wrap around his waist. Our tongues intertwine. He carries me to the king-sized bed and deposits me onto the mattress carefully, as if I’m a fragile treasure.

“Lie back.” My empty core clenches greedily, desperate to be filled.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The slight edge in his tone tightens my inner muscles. Or is it his willingness to surrender control? I should definitely explore more of this later. “Give yourself a few strokes,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Tug on it a little. Make it nice and hard.”

His hand drops to fist his already raging cock, and there’s a sharp intake of breath. His jaw clenches.

“Careful now. Don’t want you coming right away.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He pumps rhythmically, his heavy-lidded gaze focused on me.

My hands wander to my breasts. I can get myself off like this, toying with my nipples and watching him. His pace quickens.

“That’s enough,” I say, more to myself than to him.

He gives his cock one final stroke and halts. A bead of precum oozes from the crown, glistening under the low light.

He holds still, observing me when I bend to taste it — sweet, salty. I lick my lips and smile. What a delicious treat.

“You’ve been a good boy, Keith,” I purr, swinging my leg over to straddle him.

His eyes are burning with unmistakable lust.

“It’s time for your reward.” Lifting my hips, I guide the broad head of his cock to my opening. I sink slowly and exhale. “Oh, you feel so good.”

Bit by bit, he stretches my walls. I rock back and forth with shallow thrusts to adjust to his massive size. The burn is exquisite. “Are you ready to fuck me, Keith?” I’m so fucking ready for it.

“Yes, Ma’am. Very much so.”

“Then do it.”

He shoves upward and yanks me down to meet his thrust.

F-ffuck…” The sweet and mellow tension in my belly expands as I lose myself in the hot, solid feel of him, the sensation of strong arms caging me, those thigh muscles flexing beneath me.

He fucks me harder. Deeper. Without mercy. The man certainly knows how to deliver. His rhythm is impeccable. My body explodes in a thousand sensations. I mewl and roll my hips. “Yes, yes, yes… Keith.”

He powers into me repeatedly— I can’t take it anymore. Yet, I don’t want him to stop. Don’t want it to end.

“Need you to come inside me. Fill me up with your hot seed. Oh, God. Keith, yes, yes, yes, fuck me just like that. Keep going,” I go on and on, muttering dirty words to him between moans.

He goes rigid and tight before he growls my name and spurts deep inside me.

The flood of heat drives me to the edge. I scream and writhe shamelessly until finally, finally, I collapse on top of him.

He holds me in his arms, stroking my back, whispering sweet words.

And then we begin again.

When morning comes, I thank Keith and ask for his number before I leave.

Becca’s white Mercedes is parked out front. I stroll toward her with a gratifying ache in my muscles.

She beams. “How was it?”

“Best birthday ever.”

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