birthday sex

**This story was written for my fiancé for his birthday while I’m in the Peace Corps in West Africa and he’s in the states all alone and horny **







The first thing she notices is that his hair is longer than it had been when she’d said good-bye in the airport all those months ago. Half a year has brought his dark curls nearly to his shoulders and he has regained that sexy push back gesture she remembers from high school. She kisses him there softly in the Cotonou airport, wishes him a happy birthday and welcomes him to Africa with an almost chaste embrace, conscious that the modesty of Benin and her racing heart do not make good company. He pulls back with that sexy half smile, thinking she is just being shy and she lets him have that thought, not bothering to try to explain it now in the insane noise and smog of the inefficient airport. There will be plenty of time to discuss the cultural inappropriateness of public displays of affection; she is sure she’ll have to remind him many times during his two week stay in her little Peace Corps issued house in the North of the country.



The long bus ride is an exquisite torture; his hand rests discretely just above her knee, possessive in a way that makes her dizzy with desire in the barely air conditioned bus. The other passengers pretend not to see the way she licks her lips and watches him as he slowly caresses her thigh through her long skirt. She shoots him a warning glance when his fingers move too far up for polite company and he rolls his eyes with a smile and moves his hand away from her. A small sound of protest escapes from her lips, but he doesn’t hear over the sound of the wind rushing by through the African countryside.



It is only the mid afternoon, but he is jet-lagged and exhausted, so when they arrive at her house she has him shower and take a nap before dinner. He makes a big deal out of it, but she can tell he is grateful. When she looks in on him a little while later, he is sprawled out on her double bed, naked under the mosquito net. She tucks in the net quietly and turns on the fan. He murmurs something and rolls over and she smiles, a burst of unbridled happiness surging through her. It has been too long.



She is standing over the stovetop, the tofu and vegetables warming and is contemplating the various oils on the shelf when she feels him slide up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her neck. He kisses her softly and she makes a tiny sound of pleasure. She can feel that he is still naked from the waist up, but that he’s pulled on a pair of clean slacks from his suitcase.



“Did you sleep well?” She asks, selecting the peanut oil.



“Mmmmhmmm,” His lips graze over her shoulder blade and she finds it difficult to concentrate on the stir-fry in front of her. There is only a little bit of peanut oil left; she will need to buy more in order to cook next time. She empties the bottle into the pan and the sizzling brings his attention to her work.



“Nice work, my sexy woman,” he says with a smile, and then reaches up and pulls down a different bottle of oil from the shelf.



“What is this?”



“That is palm oil,” She answers, taking the bottle from him and putting it back next to the empty bottle of peanut oil. “It has way too much saturated fat to use.”



“Why do you have it then?” He asks, taking the spatula from her and giving the tofu a stir in the crackling oil.



“Well, it tastes good and I always said that when I was thin enough I might use it to make some traditional Beninese foods.”



“How thin would be thin enough? You’ve already lost some weight since the last time I saw you.”



Her face flushes with pleasure, glad he has noticed, but embarrassed for some reason about the palm oil. She doesn’t know why she keeps it around; she bought it on a weak impulse, wanted something dangerously decadent but has never had the guts to actually use it with anything.



“Maybe before you leave, we can try it out.” She says, meaning that there was no possible way they’ll be having something so bad. She takes back the spatula and continues frying the vegetables. She adds some soy sauce and more tofu and checks on the boiling rice. He leans against the counter and watches her cook.



“You look so domestic.”



“Fuck you,” She grins and he smiles back.



“Are you going to cook for me every night while I’m here?”



“No, I thought maybe one night we’d go to the Olive Garden down the street.”



“Touché.” He steps over and kisses her neck again, this time running his hands down her back and over the swell of her ass, squeezing gently and letting out a sigh.



“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” He whispers over the soft bubbling of the stir-fry. She turns then and kisses him full on the mouth, all pretenses gone. Leaving the spatula next to the stove, she throws her arms around his neck and pulls herself up to her tiptoes to kiss deeper. She feels his body react, feels his cock stir under his khakis as his tongue lightly caresses her bottom lip, making her knees weak. She clings to him, desperate to get as much of his kiss as possible and he holds her tightly, his hands on her waist, on her ass, sliding up her shirt.



She is naked before he falls with her onto the bed, pushing the mosquito net aside, and her fingers fumble with his zipper while he laughs quietly in her hair, his hands roaming and teasing. She lets out a frustrated moan when she can’t unfasten the top button and he laughs again and shushes her gently, tipping her face up to his and smiling. She pauses, breathing in a deep breath and kisses him slowly. The button comes lose between her fingers and he helps her slide his pants down his legs without parting their lips.



When her hand slides up and over his erection, though, she breaks the kiss to gasp, feeling the rush of arousal low in her stomach. He closes his eyes and when she licks his lip playfully she feels his dick get even harder in her hand. Smiling, she crawls down his body, suddenly needing to feel how hard he is in her mouth. She plants small, impatient kisses down his chest and stomach, pausing only to lick one nipple and feel him shiver in response. Usually she takes her time with him, but she’s so wet already with the thought of him filling her mouth that the only teasing she can manage is one long, wet lick up the length of his cock, making him moan.



“Good, baby?” She breathlessly asks before taking all of him between her lips. He can only groan deep in his throat in response as she starts to suck. She knows she is good at this, her tongue and lips bringing many sounds of pleasure from him, his eyes shut tight and his head tipped back. His hands go to her hair, grasping a handful and pulling just this side of pain. She moans then, too, his cock buried deep in her throat, tight and wet. She wonders if he can feel the vibration of her sound around his dick, but before she can try it again he tells her to stop or he’s going to cum. She tells him she wants him to, but he says he is waiting for a different set of lips.



“I want to enjoy you, but I’m not going to last very long,” he whispers as he pulls her up to him and lays her beside him. “So I want to make you cum first.” He starts to press his lips to her neck, over her chest, sucking on first one nipple and then the other. When she feels his teeth, she gasps, feeling the promise of climax pulsing in her body, building. His hand brushes over her hips and stomach and slips between her thighs in the same moment his tongue pushes into her mouth. She can see the desire in his eyes, the hunger that is so familiar written on his face and on every controlled movement in his body. When his finger presses inside her and she feels his rock hard cock against her, all she can think about is the feel of him above her, thrusting himself all the way inside, taking from her what he needs. His finger strokes deep in places that have forgotten what it feels like to be stroked and she arches her back, feeling her own desire breaking over a wash through her skin, the orgasm surprising her and making her cry out against his lips.



He is over her almost immediately, spreading her legs for him and pulling her hips toward his throbbing dick. He enters her then, slowly pushing himself deep inside her inch by inch until he is buried as far as he can and she begins to squirm and they both begin to tremble. The desire is overwhelming him, she can tell, she can see how controlled he is being, not wanting to hurt her after all this time apart. “Fuck me hard, baby, please,” she whispers against his ear breathlessly and he moans softly as he begins to move inside her. The first few thrusts are calculated, restrained. She bites his earlobe gently and his control fades.



He thrusts deeper, hitting the end of her and making her moan and clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck. She drags her finger nails across his back and sighs, pulling her legs up to wrap around his hips while he fucks her. His breathing is more shallow, his quiet moans deliciously arousing next to her ear. He squeezes her breast with one hand and moves it down lower to her waist to pull her against him harder as he slides his cock deep and fast inside her. It has been so long since she was filled up this way and she feels herself getting close again.



“I’m going to cum hard again,” she whispers it softly, seductively, and he moans and lifts his head to kiss her roughly. His tongue slips between her teeth and she feels the orgasm break over her with a heady rush of decadence. She calls out and he gasps against her mouth, feeling her tightness and wetness as he pounds into her.



“Cum with me, baby,” she begs as the flames begin to subside and he does. He groans and pushes deep inside her, pausing and gripping her hips with both hands. She can feel him spilling his hot cum into her and she clutches at him, arching her back with the pure wave of pleasure that washes over both of them. He slumps forward and rolls slowly off of her and they laugh together.



“Happy birthday.”



The cuddling is almost as good as the fuck.



***



Afterward she remembers the stir-fry and darts to the kitchen to turn off the stove. Their dinner is in a charred pile of black goo. She starts to laugh and he saunters into the kitchen and joins her. His hair is a tattered mess and they are both completely naked as they laugh together in her tiny kitchen. Luckily, she tells him, she has gotten enough tofu and vegetables to make more stir-fry later in the week, but that she doesn’t have any peanut oil left. He breaks into a broad smile and reaches up to her shelf to pull down the bottle of palm oil. He sets it down with a flippant, questioning smile and she can’t help but smile back, her body still warm and relaxed. Ok, she tells him. Why not?

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