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Yesterday, I spent my fortieth birthday filing a financial report and attending a three-hour conference. We were behind this quarter and a (now fired) intern forgot to turn in some important paperwork, which meant everyone needed to buckle down. I got a few professional congratulations from busy coworkers, but the closest I ever got to celebrating involved a $100 gift card from the CEO and many pats on the back.

After packing up and leaving the hotel, I drove back from Chicago to my suburban home up north in Wausa, Wisconsin. My wife Marissa planned to celebrate my after-birthday by making a good dinner, and according to her latest text, "Help my hard-working husband relax."

Do not get the wrong idea: I love her to death. After meeting at a frat party, we became college sweethearts and worked as a team to raise a family immediately after graduating. Now that our daughter was attending a university in Madison, we had the house to ourselves. At first, this seemed like a couple's dream come true; no more telling cubs to go to their room and no more stepping on Lego pieces.

Not to mention sexual freedom. We'd explored every possible way to have sex; anal, cunnilingus, blindfolds, handcuffs, collars, role play and especially dirt talk. Sad to say, while all of them were mostly fun these past few months, it eventually came to the point where they all seemed...boring. Which was why I wasn't particularly excited for tonight. All the reasonable stuff we tried didn't give us that new, exciting spark.

Pulling into the garage, I entered my home to the smell of booked pot roast, and something else. However, I was momentarily distracted when a grinning tigress happily kissed me. She was wearing perfume, something she only used when a guest was over.

"How was your trip?" Marissa asked. "I bet you're awfully tired, Rafe."

"Ugh, awful."

"Why don't you go upstairs, and I'll call you down when dinner's ready?"

"Is the surprise upstairs, honey?" I asked coyly. "You know I don't like surprises..."

"You're gonna love this one, Rafe!" she smirked, then kissed me on my cheek before playfully whispering, "I hope you enjoy our present."

Before I could speak, Marissa scurried back into the kitchen. Shrugging as I traveled upstairs, I started unbuttoning my suit and stretched my tail from the long ride back home. Whatever this birthday present was, it must've been different from a new shirt. Speaking of which, as I opened the door to our bedroom, my jaw dropped in unison to the shirt I suddenly dropped.

A male, mostly-naked bobcat kneeling on the bed, smiling at me and wearing nothing but a bright red thong. Standing there petrified (and incredibly aroused), he scooted closer to the edge of the mattress. I thought I was dreaming at first, but then I noticed that smell from downstairs, mixed with the musky scent of this twenty-something up here.

Lube.

"W-W-Who are...you?" I stammered, my eyes trying to remain above the bobcat's neck to no avail. "Why...a-are you in the bed?"

"Calvin Hartley," he cheerily offered a paw, to which I blindly shook. Again, to no avail, I gazed over his slim body, his smoothly brushed and lithe chest. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leeds. Marissa's told me so much about you, and honestly? You're even more handsome than in the pictures."

I blushed momentarily. "W-What is this?"

Calvin smiled. "Your wife is my boss at the office, and she thought it'd...spice things up by exploring your gay side. And seeing it." He pointed to an active camera by the bedside, making my tail twitch.

I remained awestruck. It wasn't a secret between me and my wife that I...kind of...sort of...enjoyed the male anatomy; experimenting with other drunk frat members was inevitable, but it changed when your future wife was the one caught you sucking a stallion's length in an upstairs bedroom. She asked about from time to time, but my focus remained on her all these years. And seeing this cute bobcat practically naked save for a cloth and some string, sitting on my bed made me really hard.

"So, big guy," he meowed playfully. "Are you ready to unwrap your present?"

I blinked nervously at the handsome lad.

"Are you sure Marissa is alright with this?"

Calvin replied to my question by lowering himself and unbuttoning my trousers, which were now tented from my unbearable erection. Seconds later and it sprung free from my underwear. Normally flaccid at seven inches, even as a teenager, the length of my cock was something to be proud of. Watching this bobcat purr and lick it sweetly brought back memories from days past; the neighbor and I fucking behind his shed, secretly watching the other guys in the gym showers, as well as when another 'curious' fag sucked my dick the day before graduation. All of them collided at once in this single moment.

"There!" the feline paused mid-lick and promptly turned around to present his raised tail to me. Before I could ask why he stopped, I hungrily gulped. Although partially hidden by the thong's string, I could smell the lube. "Go ahead, tiger. You can fuck me as hard as you want."

A minute later and everything blurred in an afterthought of lustful images. Me pouncing on the younger boy. Shoving my hardened, slick cock into Calvin's (virgin?) ring. Feeling my balls slap against his rear the faster I fucked him. Our growls and grunts choiring with the meaty onomatopoeia of male-on-male sex. And the unbelievable way I came inside of him.

"Oh, Mr. Leeds!" he panted underneath me. "That was...wow..."

"Call me 'Rafe'," I growled dominantly into his neck. "Mr. Leeds is my father."

"Mmm, whatever you say...Daddy."

I got hard once again.

"Dinner's ready, boys!"

Our ears perked at the voice from downstairs. Slowly pulling out of him, I helped guide Calvin to the bathroom shower. I think I was going to like this new kink.