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The Throne: His Birthday

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“Tell me!” I demanded, watching his cock bob in frustration as I looked up at him from between his legs. He whimpered as I applied another long lick from balls to tip. I had him on the edge, right where I wanted him. He would either answer my question or have a ruined orgasm before long.“I don’t… want… to ruin… the surprise,” he was barely able to say.“Give me a hint,” I pleaded. My method of persuasion seemed to be working as he squirmed.“You can use it when you’re feeling lazy,” he blurted out, grinning, knowing it told me nothing. He was teasing me, too.His groan warned me I had reached his limit as I kissed the tip, siphoning up the precum dripping from it. In truth, I was glad he hadn’t spilled the beans. Teasing him like this was its own reward.One more long lick and his woeful moan told me he was going to spill something else. Although I had intended to ruin him, when I saw the first spurt, I couldn’t resist sucking the head between my lips, using my hand to milk the rest of his load into my mouth.My birthday is February first; his is the twenty-ninth. We got married February fifteenth; it was an impetuous decision after spending Valentine’s Day in Las Vegas. This year was special. We were both turning forty, it was our twentieth anniversary, and it was a leap-year, so his birthday was on the calendar.It meant we needed to do something extra-special for presents for each other. Jim was working on something in the garage. He had papered over the windows and made a sign for the locked door that said “Pam” in a red circle with a slash through it.On the day of my birthday, he sent me to the spa for some pampering. When I got home, he had laid out a new, sexy, and expensive outfit. The dress would show off my generous cleavage and long legs, enhanced by the high-heel shoes and smoky, garterless stockings. Estimating the cost of the new necklace, earrings, bahis siteleri and purse that completed the ensemble, I began to think the garage had been a misdirection.Ready to go, I saw myself sideways in the mirror and almost wondered who that was. On a typical day, I look okay, like a model in a clothing store advertisement—attractive, but not so hot that the average customer won’t identify with me. Today, with my hair up and makeup, showing cleavage,  back, and a lot of leg in my designer dress, I looked slutty, but in a classy way, like an actress on a red carpet.Jim would be on the same scale, although men have a narrower range. He put in the effort to look his best, and the adoring way he looked at me moved him up a couple of notches in my eyes.We went to dinner at Le Rendez-vous, a fancy French restaurant with private booths. As the maître’d led us to our table, he probably wondered who was seducing whom. Jim and I take turns!“To forty more years, all of them with me,” my husband raised his glass of wine.“The way you take care of me, I’m sure I’ll last at least that long,” I responded, clinking our glasses.The sommelier had brought the wine and left us to await the first course. Setting his glass down, Jim “accidentally” knocked the cork off the table and crawled under to retrieve it. He ran his fingers up my leg, sending a shiver through me. When both hands reached under the dress, I realized he had another objective.“The waiter will be back soon,” I protested as he hooked his fingers in the front of the thong panties and pulled. I thought he might tear the thin strips of fabric so I lifted my ass slightly and allowed the strings to pass under me. In a flash, he had the tiny undergarment down and off my legs.I felt hot from the surprise and risk. He grinned as he retook his seat, sniffing my panties with the same ceremony he had used on the canlı bahis siteleri cork minutes earlier.“A very good year,” he laughed, stashing them in the breast pocket of his suitcoat just as the waiter reappeared. We had played such games over the years, although not in such an exclusive restaurant.“Behave yourself!” I admonished after the waiter set down the plates and left. “I don’t want to be kicked out before we finish this epic meal.” Sitting side-by-side allowed us to trade kisses, caresses, and bites of dessert, but we didn’t go further than that. His pants managed to contain the bulge that I maintained there; my dress was dark and absorbent enough that my excitement wouldn’t be seen when we walked out.Arriving home, he drove the car into the garage, but I saw nothing to suggest what, if anything, his project had been. Inside the house, Jim had me step out of my high heels and blindfolded me before leading me into our playroom—a spare bedroom we used for video games and various activities, including sex play that needed more than a bed. My crotch tingled with anticipation.He unzipped my dress and peeled it down over my hips, steadying me as I stepped out of it. Kneeling, he drew the stockings down to my ankles and pulled them off as I raised each foot. Last to go was my bra, leaving me standing naked. The rustling told me he was undressing as well.“You are my queen,” he whispered in my ear as he took my arm. “I made you a throne.” He led me backward a few steps until my legs contacted a chair. Sitting down, I felt the soft leather against my bare thighs, butt, and back. There was something odd about it, but I didn’t realize what it was until he removed the blindfold.The lights were dimmed for romance. At first glance, it looked and felt like an easy chair, but it had been modified: there was a slight draft between my legs, due to the canlı bahis opening there.I had seen queening chairs in videos. Some were just a supported toilet seat, functional but inelegant. Some were padded or had provision for the comfort or restraint of the properly positioned face below. This outdid them all. I could imagine sitting here whether or not it was being used as intended.“I love it!” I exclaimed, running my hand over the arm, noting the workmanship. “I love you.” I reached for him and he bent to oblige me with a deep kiss. He was naked and his pole stood straight out with his excitement.“How—?” I started to ask, but he interrupted.“Let me show you,” he giggled eagerly, getting on his knees and crawling behind the chair. In a moment, his eyes looked up from between my legs, his mouth perfectly positioned. He wasted no time but started kissing and licking me.My husband had developed quite a repertoire of cunnilingus. For more than two decades, he had been tending to my genitals and spent more time studying them than I ever would. He knew every flap, fold, bump, indentation, and nerve ending, and taught me that the most reliable way to achieve an orgasm wasn’t always the best way.Over the years, we had done most things sexually, so I had sat on his face many times. This was different. I felt relaxed, not struggling to stay in position as I got more turned on, not worrying about hurting his neck by resting too hard on him. My thighs tensed and released as my pleasure built rather than having to support my weight.Jim explored and demonstrated the features of his creation. I was sure he had imagined this moment over and over as he planned and built my present, so I felt good because of what I was doing for him as well as what he was doing to me.The novelty of the chair, the arousal from the evening, and the enthusiastic stimulation of my pussy had me rushing to the peak before I knew it. Part of me wanted to hold back and make it last, but before that part could do anything, I was cumming. Leaning forward, I ground my clit against his tongue as my body squirmed with pleasure.

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