Let me just start off by recommending that if you can avoid it, don’t have a breakup/relationship transition right before your birthday. It’s distracting AF. I know sometimes it can’t be helped, including, for me, this time. Someday I’ll tell y’all the story of how Canadian Daddy and I went our separate ways, but today is not that day.
Suffice to say, I was feeling a maelstrom of emotions as my birthday was approaching. I’ve had a complicated relationship with my birthday for years anyway, so this one had a “oh great, another one that’s going to be kinda meh” vibe to it. Until. I got a very important series of texts from a lover in LA. For the purpose of preserving his anonymity, we’re going to call him Anubis.
First, he sweetly expressed condolences for my recent heartache. (Love that). Then, without missing a beat, he asked in the most considerate and naughty of ways, if there was anything he could do to help soothe my aching heart. Or at the very least least, my aching genitals. I believe the phrasing was something to the effect of, “I know you’re in your healing process, but if there’s anything that would be helpful for your moving on process sexually which might require a partner, I just want you to know I volunteer.”
“Why yes,” I replied. “There is something I would like that would require a partner. I want to get fucked. Hard. Long. And incredibly well. I want to be reminded that the end of my relationship with my former partner does not preclude me from having mind blowing, universe creating sex.”
“I’ve got you,” he assured me.
And so he did. We made our plans for 4/20 weekend (my birthday is 4/21) when I would be in LA for my new monthly gig at the bspoke space on Fairfax. I had a myriad of plans on 4/20 itself but he was generously willing to work around my schedule that day into my birthday and fill any holes available. (Giggle).
I woke up in LA the morning of the 19th to a message from him: “If you’re in LA already and have some free time, I would really love to come by for a hand job before I go run some errands.” I replied that I had to be at my event around 5, but I could squeeze in an hour before I left. I warned him that I’d already done my makeup so he’d have to restrain himself, lest he smudge my lipstick with too much passionate kissing. It was kind of like Pretty Woman rules, which honestly just made it hotter. He arrived and I brought him upstairs and we each disrobed. No pretense, no unnecessary overtures. He was there for one specific thing and I was excited to provide it. (FYI: This man LOVES my hand jobs. I know I’m the hand job queen but he makes me feel like a hand job deity!) I poured a copious amount of silicone lube into my hands and started stroking.
A word about his cock. It is, by definition, enormous. Real talk—I’ve spent a good bit of time on porn sets and his cock is the biggest I’ve ever seen in real life, both by length AND by girth. I wasn’t actually convinced it was going to fit inside of me when we had sex for the first time last summer. Spoiler alert, it did. And I love it. And I love how skillfully he wields it. But we’ll get to that in a bit. Suffice to say, when I eventually film a live demo hand job video series, he will be the star.
One might think that a massive cock like that needs to be handled roughly. On the contrary, he likes a gentle and deliberate start. Nice and slow. Up and down. Squeezing in a way similar to that of checking a tomato for ripeness. Even with both hands I can’t cover the whole thing so my hands are constantly in motion as I caress him, feeling him stiffen against my palms. Twisting slowly around the head and gliding my fingertips under the coronal ridge (that’s the mushroom head part). Watching his eyes roll back into his head as I do this satisfies me on such a deep visceral level that I can scarcely articulate it. It makes my chest feel warm and my eyes dance with glee. So I’m sitting between his legs, doing my best work, grinning from ear to ear and watching him writhe in pleasure. He sits up suddenly and I know he wants to kiss me. “Don’t forget, you can’t smudge my lipstick,” I say with a teasing smile. He groans. “You know that just makes me want to do it more,” he says with mock defiance.
I had the foresight to put on a different shirt before he arrived rather than risk my event outfit being covered in some combination of lube and cum. “Can I stick my cock between your tits and then cum on them?” he asked. I love clear, direct requests. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but my outfit tonight is such that my bra is visible and I don’t want it to be cum stained, so no. Just cum on my shirt.” He takes redirection well, and actually loves it when I tell him no (so he can more readily trust my yes—take notes, y’all). I’m pretty sure that actually sped up his orgasm slightly, although by this point we’d been going for about 35 or 40 minutes. Stamina. Holy stamina. He came hard and an impressive load of hot sticky cum soaked my t-shirt. I deftly removed it without getting any on my hair or makeup, and smirked when I noticed a small spot on my bra that had soaked through. “Don’t worry, the dress covers that part,” I reassured him. I slipped on my dress and showed him. He nodded, still in a bit of a post orgasmic daze. I get it, I have that effect on people. We walked out together and expressed our excitement for the following day’s plans.
Saturday morning I woke up early to speak at an online conference on cannabis and neurodivergence. It was a great way to start the day—public speaking actually gets me really turned on because it reminds me what a badass I am. He conveniently lives about 5 minutes from where I stay when I come to LA for work, so I went by his place and scooped him up as soon as he let me know he was ready. We came back and had a quick smoke (as befitting the holiday) before getting down to the main event. He’d promised me “many orgasms” and he was ready to deliver. My favorite way to cum is actually clitoral stimulation with fingers, and it so happens that he has exceptionally talented fingers. We kissed for a bit and then he undressed me and lay next to me on the bed. “You like it when I make you feel good, don’t you little girl?” he growled in my ear. Ohhh gosh yes. Dirty talk plus clit stimulation is pretty much my kryptonite. My first orgasm came fast and furious. As I was catching my breath he looked at me with that devilish smile of his. “You’re not done yet.” He slowed his pace to give my sensitive clit a bit of a break, but ramped up again before long. I intentionally extended my breath and flexed and relaxed my calves, which get kind of tight when I’m orgasming. Yes, I’m a tension orgasm person. Usually. As my second orgasm washed over me, which is my usual cap for orgasms with partners, he informed me that he “really loves” making me cum and planned to continue for a while. If that was okay with me. I just nodded wordlessly and kept moaning. As I approached the third orgasm I started trying to remember the last time a lover had gotten me off three times in a row. Years for sure. Several years. I was jolted back into the present moment by the crashing wave of my third orgasm and my whole body started to quiver and rock. I looked up at him, expecting him to tell me we were finished. “I think you can keep going, don’t you?” he said as he continued his slow stroking around my clit. At that point, I melted into a puddle of goo. And also felt tears spring to my eyes. We’d been going for 45+ minutes at this point. He was taking his time. He had no agenda other than making me feel good. It wasn’t a tit-for-tat situation, he was getting off on me getting off and his hands showed no signs of fatiguing. Mind. Blown. It is not unusual for me to spend at least that much time making my partners feel good, but few if any have ever reciprocated like that. It was such a powerful moment. My pleasure matters. My pleasure is worth devoting significant amounts of time to. Love that as a birthday theme. I tapped out after the fourth orgasm.
“I really need to feel you inside me,” I murmured in post-orgasmic bliss. I got between his legs and stroked his cock until it was rock hard and ready for me. Drizzling it with more silicone lube, I straddled him and eased him slowly inside me. Inch by inch, feeling him stretch me and that moment of sharpness as he came in contact with my cervix, followed by instant relief as he deftly slipped behind it and into the cavern of my posterior fornix. Before him, I didn’t know there was anything behind the cervix from a practical perspective. Like yes, I understood genital anatomy to know that there’s space around the front and back of the cervix (the anterior and posterior fornix, respectively) but no one had ever actually made it in there. “Executive parking,” he said, echoing a joke that a friend of his had made years ago. “Hand me your phone,” he commanded. Then he took this:
There’s nothing quite like someone who understand the value of content creation as well as I do. I love it almost as much as I love having a lover who doesn’t see anyone’s orgasm as the end of the play, but rather just one of many facets of an experience. We kept at it like that for about three hours overall, before I realized I really needed to get to my afternoon event at PuffDAO. I didn’t quiiiiite make it in time for 4:20pm as I’d planned, but close enough.
I had another window between the PuffDAO after party and Lizzy Jeff’s after hours event, so we went another couple rounds back at the apartment. One of the things we have in common is a deep love of period pieces (including The Gilded Age, Downton Abbey, and Bridgerton), so I turned him on to one of my favorite series, The Borgias. It has everything—Italian history, scandal, political intrigue, and a very hot taboo relationship between siblings, played by François Arnaud and Holliday Grainger. Another thing we share is a love of taboo roleplay dynamics, so I’d enticed him on the series by teasing the underlying sexual tension. True to form, as we watched the opening scene between Cesare and Lucrezia unfold, he asked me to straddle him so he could fuck me while we watched it together. I love having someone to be dirty with.
I needed to sleep in after a wonderful but late night at Lizzy Jeff’s Zen and Kush event (which always stretches into the wee hours of the morning) but I was flying high after a super sweet birthday shout out so we had sex one more time before going to bed. I fell asleep naked beside him with cum dripping off of me, exactly as I wanted. The next morning I woke up to his cock sliding into me (my preferred way of waking up) and we went another couple of rounds. “Happy birthday Ash,” he whispered in my ear. It certainly was. By my count, he’d cum 8 times in just over 24 hours. So impressive. Stamina for days. And good thing too, because I am insatiable. We ended our time together by meeting my friend and her girlfriend for brunch and I was glowing the entire time.
It ended up being an absolutely glorious birthday weekend. I look forward to many more adventures with Anubis, which I will be sure to chronicle here. Thank you, so much, for such a magical birthday. You definitely showed up in a big way. Literally and figuratively.
In my next post, I’ll recount my 11 day trip to Cabo, in which I had CPAP sex, a threesome-turned orgy-turned threesome, a foursome, and a hot date in a jacuzzi suite at a five-star resort. Be sure to like, comment, and share! (Seriously, it helps!)
Wow that was incredible and so nourishing to read. Thank you so much for sharing about this beautiful birthday!!
Listened to the audio version of this on my morning walk just now and was smiling the whole time! Thanks for sharing ashleyyyy and I am fucking delighted for you to have had such an awesome birthday weekend!! PS…how do I get my hands (and other things!?) on anubis? 👀👀😉