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 duffle bag packed with dirty clothes laying 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 neighbor’s daughter was chatting with my wife. Dylan had always been a nice girl. Merry and I were the older brother and sister she never had. She used to hang out at our house all the time. We’d even given her a key.
Of course, Dylan had turned into a drop-dead hottie as she grew up too. The friendly and nosy ten year-old I’d met developed into a nubile young heartstopper before she moved away.
I looked at Dylan standing behind the counter next to my wife. Her dark blonde hair, big green eyes, and fit little tennis player’s body were probably driving the guys at her college nutters.
“Dylan!”
“Happy birthday, Tommie!” 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’d outgrown me or maybe I was an uncool old guy now. Well, I was nearing thirty. That bummed me out. Plus, Dylan’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 Merr, can you at least tell me what you got me for my birthday?”
My wife pointed at Dylan, who was now practically vibrating with excitement. Her brassy blonde ponytail was twitching back and forth behind her head.
“Dylan has my birthday present?”
“No sweetie, she is your birthday present.”
I looked at the still grinning teen, “You’re my birthday present?”
“Yep, I’m your birthday present,” she cheered, lifting her arms in the air.
Well, it was nice to see her again. Maybe we could go play some tennis tomorrow. Or maybe make a big pitcher of sangria and she could fill me in on the last year of her life since her folks moved away or…
That mental train fell right off the track when my wife nudged Dylan towards me and the grinning teen rounded the kitchen counter then bounded over for a hug, crushing her sleek little body into mine.
Huh? Dylan was naked from the waist down.
“Dylan, you’re not wearing any pants.”
“Nope, and I’m not going to be wearing any tomorrow or the next day, either. So…”
I looked at my wife over Dylan’s shoulder. “Whoa, you win. As birthday presents go, having a half-naked coed wandering around our…”
My wife held up her hand and was biting her lip to fight back her laugh, “Hold on genius, you didn’t let Dylan finish.”
I looked back down at Dylan, she was smiling up at me as she waited patiently. “I was going to say that I’m not wearing any pants so you can fuck me whenever you want while I’m here for the weekend.”
I felt woozy, the entire world rotated left about three degrees.
“But only?” My wife, looked at Dylan and arched an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah,” Dylan nodded and smiled even brighter, “just in my butt though. Sorry, anal only. Merry’s rule.”
In the pause that stretched out after, the first thing I thought to do was look around for some hidden cameras. This had to be a joke.
“You’re… you’re serious?”
“Yep,” they answered in stereo.
My wife made her “patient face” while she cracked open a few pistachios from a bowl on the counter. It’s the face she makes when she explains stuff to me. One last time: she’s smarter than me.
“You see love, I’ve done a lot of thinking about our anal sex problem. I’m just never going to like it. At one point, I was even looking into hypnosis. But the idea of paying some psychiatrist to put me to sleep and convince me that I liked it in the ass seemed too weird to go through with it.”
She snickered then shook her head and chewed a few pistachios. She was giving me time to let this sink in before continuing.
“The trouble was, I was thinking about our problem like a wife. I should have been thinking about it like a management consultant. When I switched gears, it took all of thirty seconds to figure out what to do about this whole butt sex thing.”
She smiled as she came over to bat at Dylan’s ponytail playfully, “I’m outsourcing it. To an expert.” She patted the little blonde’s head.
“You’re an expert?” I looked down at Dylan suspiciously.
“Yep, I’ve had more than my share of backdoor loving. In high school, I let one of the guys on the swim team give it to me in the ass. And I really liked it. He bragged about it in the locker room the next day. After that, there was a waiting list for my butt. The tennis skirts I wore half the year helped too. Great advertising. What is it with you guys and tennis skirts anwway?” she laughed.
I couldn’t answer because I was still processing.
“So you never wondered why I had so many dates in high school, Tommie?”
“I just thought you were popular…”
“Oh, I was popular all right,” Dylan laughed, “And I loved every minute of it too. But I went cold turkey on that stuff when I started college. I don’t need that reputation following me up there.”
“Except?” my wife prompted, chewing more pistachios calmly.
Dylan nodded. “Except now I miss getting poked in the heinie. A lot. And there’s nobody to play those games with me at school. I’m going crazy. Of course, it didn’t help that Merry sent me that care package chock full of anal porn, sneaky bitch,” Dylan giggled.
“Or?” Merry’s nose twitched proudly.
“Or the pics she e-mailed me of your giant stiffy,” Dylan smirked.
My wife grinned. “Sorry Dylan, but it did give you some nubbin rubbin’ material for those lonely nights up at school. It also softened you up a little too before I pitched my idea,” she admitted.