Disclaimer and Preface
All rights reserved. May be archived at ASSTR, but nowhere else without my permission. Not to be read in countries in which on-line reading of stories with sexual contents is illegal. Not to be read by minors anyway. (A minor is expected to be less than 18 years of age, depending on where you live, though, some political leaders behave like minors -- so they also shouldn't read it). Some of the practices described in this story are dangerous and/or insane or illegal. Drug use is illegal in most countries. You are responsible for what you are doing.
All similarities to real persons and situations are not intended and only coincidental, though, as said before, the Red 5 club really exists and its interior is authentic, as are some of the characters described herein. This story was inspired by R/L contacts. Much of the attitude is authentic, but sexual behaviour might or might not be fantasy. As always, I've added elements from my fantasy to this story. All cited trademarks belong to their owners.
All characters in this story are fuckable in the country in which this story takes place, which is identical to the country in which the story was written ('produced') and posted ('distributed'). The age of consent in that country is fifteen, though in the story no underage persons take part in sexual acts. No animals were harmed while producing this adult entertainment (except for the cow which delivered the meat for a green pepper steak while doing research for the story).
All similarities to real persons and situations are not intended and only coincidence, though, as said before, the Red 5 club really exists and its interior is authentic, as are some of the characters and events described herein. This story was inspired by R/L events, but had been enhenced by the author.
Esu Migabe cleaned up the mess, which I made writing. Thank you very much. All remaining mistakes are mine.
In the Czech language exist several special character; the letter š is spoken like sh in shower.
The story takes place after 'New Year's Eve in the Red 5' and is the second story in the 'Red 5' cycle, but is standing alone.
A Birthday Night at the Red 5
A story by FranzKafka79
"Are you jealous?"
Her question caught me unprepared. Merely two months had gone by since I first met her on New Year's night. Like a whirl-wind we'd threw ourselves into this relationship. Our friends — both hers and mine — said that it was a relationship without any perspectives.I looked at her inquiringly and she asked again, with different words, but her question actually remained unchanged.
"Do you request faith?" I was surprised by this question. Faith seemed to be one of those old-fashioned ideals which weren't popular with young people anymore. Yet I didn't know where this discussion would lead. I didn't expect a break-up, since during the last weeks we had become very familiar with each other.
"Do you mean that question 'related to sex'?"
Since we met I haven't had any sex other than with her (and occasionally my right hand on some business travels), so my own behaviour certainly wasn't the reason for this strange discussion. "No, that's not my question. I asked if you request faith. I didn't ask if you request me not to have sex with anyone else."
She was thinking on a different level to me at this moment. I was distracted I had to admit, distracted by her confusing question. More so, I was distracted by a redheaded young woman, about her age, who was sitting close by me only some steps in front of me, on one of the seats along the L-shaped bar in the Red 5.
Katka was much younger than me, only half my age, and that was the reason why our friends didn't see any future in our relationship. Her friends said, I was too old; my friends claimed she was too young. Both sides didn't believe that we could get along. They ignored the fact that I felt much younger than I was and that she acted more grown-up than she appeared.
Last week we had decided that Katka would move in with me. My apartment was large, too big for just me, almost 150 square metres. Actually it had been my idea because I found it a bit weird, that she left after spending the night in my bed (or at least most of it) and headed back to the flat, where she lived with her mother, the second husband, and her two half-sisters.
Not only did my friends show resentment, but also her parents had been concerned. Though they didn't deny me openly, I felt that they feared I could use the young girl only as a fuck-toy. Now Katka was a young woman who dressed very sexy and had an outstanding figure, so she could have had ten guys on each of her fingers — her parents' thought that my interest in Katka was based only on showing off an attractive girlfriend wasn't totally off-topic, but I was still too young (and too grown-up) for such silly games.
My daytime job gave me enough opportunities to prove myself, so I didn't need a woman or a relationship to show off to friends, relatives, and co-workers.
"I wasn't faithful in former relationships," I said. "I mean, I loved each of my former girlfriends and was still in love with them until just before we broke up — actually some of them I still love today — but I had sex with other women, back then."
"Why?"
"I dunno. Well, I guess I know. I was young, I had friends who had lovers. I guess we needed to compete, to show who the better guy was."
"And?"
"If we found out the better guy?"
"No. If it was necessary."
"Well... it did no good for my relationships, but it helped me to sort out some false friends, though."
I paused. I was on thin ice here. It was better to think before I spoke.
"What was wrong when you were promiscuous?" was Katka's next question.
I sipped on my usual whisky, a Jameson .
"There was no love involved. Wait, that's not true. It was wrong, we pretended it was love. Some girls knew it was only about sex, but some thought — hoped — it was more than fucking."
Now she was looking puzzled, so I continued.
"Sometimes I lied to the girl, telling her how much I loved her and how I would leave my girlfriend for her. But that wasn't true. I didn't think about leaving my girlfriend. Other times I lied to myself, making myself believe that such an affair wouldn't damage my love for my girlfriend. To thine ownself be true. "
"That's Shakespeare, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Hamlet."
"So you wouldn't want me to have sex with another guy in secret and not tell you?" she asked.
"I would have to believe you if you said you weren't. Maybe some of my so-called friends would tell me, maybe not. I wouldn't really know. They might tell me lies, not the truth. Well," I added, "I don't think that I be would be very happy, if I knew."
"But you would accept another guy, if I told you about him?"
"I didn't say that. Accepting means to agree and I don't believe I could agree on demand."
The redhead paid her bill, stood up, and left. I was relieved.
A few days ago, Katka had fulfilled the promise which she had made at the New Year. We had gone to a piercing saloon to get the bars put through her nipples and a ring through her clit. When she asked for the ring to be welded on, I was surprised. She wouldn't be able to remove it.
Though we hadn't spoken about a proposal, it seemed to me that this was almost an engagement of sorts. She hadn't mentioned anything like this to me but I didn't press her to talk about it either though.
She had teased me and suggested a Prince Albert for me, but I refused this. I had seen depictions of that before and somehow it seemed weird — besides thinking ouch .
"What about other girls?" she asked.
"I don't need another girl," I answered. I knew that it was the wrong answer when I saw her rolling her eyes. I began again. Sometimes it was better to speak in a foreign language. People tend to listen more but you also have a good excuse to rephrase things and begin a sentence again due to a 'misunderstanding'.
"I wasn't interested in the hooking-up-game, when I was alone — why do you think I need it now? Besides, how would you feel if I looked around for another girl?"
"At some point the situation might arise. Besides, you're already looking around," she insisted. "For instance, you watched that red-haired girl for a while."
"She was plump, not beautiful."
"But you watched her. I saw you."
She was right. If I denied it, I would have lied. I certainly did watch nice girls and attractive women and I would do so for as long as I lived, or at least, until masturbation blinded me.
Once in another life, another place and too young for a steady relationship, my girlfriend had given me an ultimatum. I had to make a decision, choose between her or my Playboy collection. It wasn't an easy choice, but in the end, the magazines stayed and the girlfriend went. It was cruel. I cried in the night, and sometimes when I came across the special places we had visited together, for a couple of months. The loss of my first girlfriend was a major impact, but eventually I understood, that Kimberly Conrad (the later Mrs. Hefner) and Pamela Anderson had been only one of the issues. The real reason was that Alexandra being one year older than I, was a much more mature person than I was.
"Sure, I look, when nice legs and a well-shaped bum are around. I even admit that I do flirt sometimes, but I am not fucking around. Anyway, she had wonderful blue eyes and a nice tattoo on her back."
"But she was plump. Besides that though, do you admit that most other women would go nuts?"
"I guess, I must agree."
"Now, if I was flirting with, let's say, the guy over there, you wouldn't mind?"
She meant a guy who was sitting two seats to my right. He couldn't hear us, because the jukebox was playing loud music. The songs by Depeche Mode had faded away and somebody had selected something more psychedelic, but I didn't recognize it.
"Of course I would. And before you get started, yes, that's the old role play between men and women, I admit. A cheating man is admired, while women doing the same are condemned as whores."
"So — flirting with that guy makes me a whore?"
"No. I said I wouldn't like you flirting with him. Look at how he appears. Flirting with such an," I gulped, "ape that looks like a mix of Julio Iglesias and David Beckham would be an affront against me. If you flirted with that guy, I would cast doubt on your senses."
Katka smiled softly now. My argument was easily won because I knew that the guy wasn't the type of man she liked.
"I would be jealous, if you began to flirt with that man," I said, nodding in another direction. On her left sat another young man. He was some years older than Katka, maybe twenty-five and wasn't tall, shorter than me in fact. His voice was dark and melodic. His hair wasn't cut as short as mine, but it wasn't long, it only appeared wild because he hadn't combed it for a while. He wasn't dirty though — he certainly had spent a lot of time preparing his outfit. Contrary to me he obviously wasn't forced to spend most of his time in business suits. I then recognised him as the bar-keeper of another shift in the Red 5.
My girlfriend laughed out loud for a short time.
"Well, I don't need him again," she said. She turned towards him and boxed him playfully on his shoulder. He turned around very fast, preparing for an assault but relaxed again when he saw my blonde girlfriend.
"Ahoj, Mirko," Katka said, "I want to introduce you to my boyfriend."
He greeted us and shook our hands. His handshake was firm, not weak and slimy — I hated the latter.
"Mirek and I were a couple once when I was seventeen."
I wasn't really surprised because I had already found out during the last couple of months since we had been together that Katka was pretty wild.
The guy spoke to us for a few more minutes, but then he and his friend finished their Bacardis and left.
Katka and I stayed for yet another drink, but we didn't resume our earlier conversation.
When we walked home, she felt cold. We had to find our way through the thick snow, which had fallen almost two weeks ago. It had only snowed for one day but it had been heavy. It was still deep enough to reach my knees and since last week we'd also had arctic temperatures to contend with. During the nights the temperature fell well below minus ten; even in the day it wasn't climbing any higher than minus seven degrees Celsius.
Katka was clothed in knee-high leather boots and blue-jeans with a thick black sweater, but it didn't help a lot. When we undressed I put our anoraks on hangers and then helped her with her boots. I discovered at that point that she had icy feet and her legs were very cold.
Five minutes later we joined each other under a hot shower.
We soaped each other. I also shampooed her shoulder-length blonde hair. It wasn't long before washing wasn't a primary concern anymore, as our hands started rubbing each other more tenderly than necessary. The soap and the shampoo were long gone. Soon I was playing her breasts and rubbing carefully with her areolas, avoiding the fresh-pierced nipples.
Her hand was massaging my cock, which quickly became hard. We began to kiss. When my tongue intruded inside her mouth, the tips of our tongues twirled around each other's. Our kisses became rougher and her moaning grew louder. Her grip around the shaft of my member was stronger now and she stroked up and down me with a faster pace. Even though she avoided touching my head and only pumped my base, making sure that my orgasm didn't build up as usual, I seemed to be harder than ever before.
My feelings got more intense now, my breathing increased, and my heart beat faster. My left hand was now buried in between her wet hair. With one hand I grabbed some of her curlies and pulled them as I pulled the bar through the base of her left nipple with my other hand. It was rough, lacking all tenderness now. She moaned louder and kissed harder. She masturbated faster and suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore.
Then she went down.
What drove Katka tonight? I hadn't seen her like this before. She cupped my ass with her hands and forced herself on to my cock, penetrating her throat with my shaft. Then she went back and let my cock almost slip out of her mouth, only the tip of the little head with the small hole remained between her lips. Her sparkling green eyes looked up making contact with mine, and I never broke the look. Then her lips gulped back over my shaft again, only taking in a few centimetres, while her tongue met my cock again and twirled around. I felt like I was in heaven and had the need to hold myself on the pole to adjust the shower's height.
It got hotter and hotter. I was wet, not only from the hot water, but also from the arousal and the agony in which she held me. The bathroom was full of steam, but I still looked into her eyes.
"You're so good, my precious. I love you so much," I told her, feeling like I was in heaven.
When the tip of my cock slid deeper into her mouth and eventually hit the stud through her tongue I lost my hesitations and called her names. Heaven turned into hell, it seemed, but I definitely liked that sort of hell.
She took me deeper and deeper. I felt her gag reflex when I hit the back of her mouth. She pulled back a little, but only to push again taking my penis in its full length. My member entered her throat, causing her reflex to gag me down. Her tongue still worked around the shaft and her hands were still holding my ass; she firmly pressed her face into my crotch.
Her throat, her tongue, and her lips, all parts of her, that were in contact with my cock, were massaging my member and I felt the orgasm start to build up.
I kept looking into her eyes, which were widening now. She obviously didn't have enough air, but I had no power to withdraw. I had to come and I had to do so immediately.
Who knows how many seconds went by but finally I erupted and shot my hot seed down to her stomach.
I met Anouk when I was twenty-four. She was a migrant from France in the company I worked for at that time and she studied at the 'École Supérieur Économique' in Dijon. She worked in our company through the summer and was two years younger than me. She had short brown hair and eyes almost the same colour. Hanging around with her was fun, though most guys wouldn't have given her a second look, since she was flat-chested and her face was only average even when she put on some make-up, but — she didn't use any.
It was on a hot Saturday, when we went to the communal, outdoor swimming-pool. We teased each other for a while about the lack of a partner and she laughed, claiming her reason for a boyfriend's absence was her awful looks.
I teased her back stating that she wasn't as bad looking as she thought and a relationship was also about mind and fun and sex. She was intelligent and funny, so I mocked her that she might be a bad lay.
That made her start protesting and soon all this talk made me horny and my cock stiffened. I had to turn and lay on my stomach, what she acknowledged with laughter.
"You should cool yourself in the water. Otherwise you'll have to stay, until night is falling and all the people have left."
I jumped up and lifted her up. Though she was tall for a girl, her eyes were at the height of my mouth, she wasn't heavy so I could lift her without any problems. I took her to the pool and threw her into it. I jumped into the water and tried to push her under the water. We fooled around for a time. We weren't good at avoiding body contact though and my cock still remained stiff.
"So much for cooling down," she teased me and we stayed for a long time in the water.
Katka's eyes and mine never broke contact. Not while she made me come, not when she finally withdrew her head and gasped for air, and not, when I sank down on the ceramic of the tub, because of my weakened legs.
After a while she broke the silence.
"I love you so much!"
I had no better answer other than kissing her, so I did.
The shower still sprayed hot water over all our bodies.
When Anouk and I went home, we began to kiss. She was a good kisser, but kissing her wasn't an enjoyment.
The reason was the extra slim menthol cigarettes, Vogue , that Anouk smoked all day long, getting through two flip boxes a day at least. Kissing her was a turn off because I felt it was like kissing an ashtray. Kissing her was also a turn on because she really knew how to use her tongue.
Slowly my mind returned from the past into the present, back into the reality of my bedroom, when I was woken up during the night. I looked over Katka's shoulder and saw the red digits of the buzzer. 2:14 AM, it read. I had to get up in less than four hours and start work at half past six, even though it was my birthday.
Katka and I had gone to bed after we left the shower and were soon sleeping. We were still spooning each other, with her back cuddled into my arms. My cock was still half-stiff and nestled between the cheeks of her nice-rounded ass.
I wasn't sure thinking about it, who would beat whom in a blowjob competition, and though my memories of Anouk in my mind had got somewhat idealised through the years, one thing was for sure; never again I would leave a relationship so light-heartedly like I had left Anouk.
Anyway, my mind returned back to my memories of the French girl, returned back to fifteen years ago and I began a mental discussion about the advantages and disadvantages of Katka and Anouk.
Aside from my other likings — green eyes and mini-skirts — oral sex was a major turn-on for me. This included the active and the passive part. Her tongue was talented and experienced. Anouk knew what was needed to make a man happy.
Former girlfriends — before Anouk — had satisfied me orally, but it was her, who showed me in practice why oral sex is also known as French love .
The night we fucked for the first time I almost cried because I couldn't stand the level of arousal she evoked in me. What was worse, she sucked, licked, teased, and held me just below the point of no return, but she didn't let me come. She even put the condom on my cock with her mouth - she'd certainly practiced that trick before with other men — and finally I shot my seed into the rubber, while I slammed my hard cock into her pussy.
She was very talented in rocking her hips onto my hard-on but her oral skills were perfect .
When I awoke again, it was 5:52 AM, eight minutes before the buzzer would go off. It took me a few moments to become aware of what had woken me. Katka, my precious lover, had grabbed hold of my cock and was stroking it to its full hardness. She was still cuddled into me and my right arm was wrapped around her body. My hand searched for her breasts, actually for the right one, since it was faster to arouse and somehow caused more intensive feelings in the young blonde.
She moaned and then she said, in her still sleepy voice, "I want you to stick it into my ass and fuck me. If you come, before the buzzer goes off, I will present you with a special birthday surprise."
When she put my dick against her tight asshole, I realised, that she somehow had managed to lubricate both herself and my cock and with her help I managed to push inside her.
Slowly I started my motions, I thrust my cock in and out, not wanting to hurt her, since she felt so tight in this position. Actually, I believed that I wasn't able to fuck her without her feeling pain.
"You'll have to move faster," she teased. "Only five minutes left, stud!"
Damn. She knew I was horny in the mornings, but she also knew that it took me much longer to build up my orgasm than at other times of the day.
Soon the digital buzzer showed 5:57 AM.
"You're running out off time, ass-fucker!" she said.
"I ... don't ... want to ... hurt ... you," I managed to say, each word between one thrust into her.
"Don't think about me. Today it's your birthday. If you want a surprise, fuck and come. You're running out of time. Two minutes."
I pushed her and made her lay on her stomach. I was on top and increased my pace. I was sure that I was causing her pain but she didn't react to it.
Just before the clock showed the last minute, she said, "Come on, does it! I know you can fuck ass. Give me your spunk. Shoot your seed into me!"
It's a turn-on, when Katka talks dirty to me.
When the digits changed to 5:59 AM I began to count the seconds in my mind, since the watch didn't show them. I increased my pace, adjusting my rhythm to the fictive seconds.
I started to come as I reached fifty in my mind, released my sperm into her bowels and cried out my lust. That wasn't love, but pure sex. So different to the earlier evening blowjob in the shower.
The buzzer went off two or three seconds later, I'd obviously counted far too slowly.
"Seems you did it just in time, stud!" Katka said, moaning between her words and I still wasn't able to decide if she was moaning in lust or in agony. But she didn't care, obviously.
Not only had I been almost running out of time, but I was also out of breath, the only sentence that came in my mind was, "You're such a slut!"
I even visited Anouk at home. She lived with her parents in a small village about fifteen minutes north of Paris. They had left us alone for the weekend, travelling to the Sologne region near Orléans, so we had the flat in a nice three-storey apartment building for ourselves. Pitifully, it was the wrong time of the month. (It was more an issue with her than with me, but it fitted with her behaviour. During the three or four months we were dating, she never let me lick her pussy, nor did we fuck when the light was on, though she had no problems taking my cock into her mouth by full daylight. Even today, I don't know the reason why, since her attitude didn't show any signs of moralistic doubts in having lusty, pre-marital sex.)
During the night she gave me head, twice, but she wouldn't let me come. She also masturbated me, but stopped just before I was ready. I was frustrated and I blamed it on the dispute we'd had earlier that day. I was annoyed by drawing comparisons between kissing her and kissing an ash-tray and I had told her that.
The next day, when we were visiting the Euro-Disney resort, we were in a better mood. When we reached a kind of pirate treasure island with some dark — very dark — tunnels, she started to fool around with me. We began to touch each other where we shouldn't. I was standing behind her and held her around her waist. I kissed her neck and my hands were beginning to grab the front of her body. She only wore a white t-shirt with no bra underneath so when my hand reached her breasts I felt her hard nipples. Of course I squeezed them and Anouk immediately laid her hands on to mine and tried to stop me from arousing her.
"Don't do this," she said. "Not here."
"Why not?" I asked her. "It's too dark for anyone to see us."
My cock was beginning to stiffen and she felt it, since the cups of her ass were pressed into my crotch.
"I guess, we can't go outside with you like that," she teased.
I didn't answer, but kissed and sucked and bit her bare neck. (Later we discovered the love marks which eventually gave her mother some chuckles!) She reached behind herself with her arms, searching for my cock. She started to rub it through my jeans, but then she found the zipper and after opening my trousers, she pulled out my member, gently stroking it as she did so.
After a while, she turned towards me. For a moment I thought (and feared) she wanted to kiss me. Kissing her, kissing Vogue (or, rather, the ashes) was beginning to distract me.
I was wrong anyway because she went down and took me in her mouth. Her tongue did what I'd hoped for. She twirled around the small hole in my head and I was soon in heaven. I was ready, I shot my semen into her mouth.
I shot all of it into her mouth. Never before had I climaxed into her. When I had penetrated her in the past, my cock was wrapped into rubber. Never before had I come into her mouth.
When she stood up, I felt so much in heaven, that I wasn't even reluctant to kiss her. Soon we were French-kissing each other. It took me a few seconds to realize that the taste in her mouth wasn't the expected nicotine, but sperm — my sperm.
Anouk's mouth was full of my sperm and I liked it. We shared my cum and for a while I forgot about her smoking habit.
The day at work was uneventful. My co-workers congratulated me and in the afternoon we had the traditional 'birthday-briefing', which meant that we met in the break-room, where we shared a bottle of slivovitz, cookies, and sandwiches.
They had bought a bottle of 12 year old Cragganmore , a single speyside malt, as a present for me. They continued the tradition of last year — a bottle of Dalwhinnie — and we sat around for awhile, but after five o'clock they faded away and the last co-worker left the office with me at six.
Katka had phoned me earlier that day telling me to meet her in the "Red 5" at seven o'clock, so I went home to shower and to change into more casual clothing.
When I arrived in the club, I ordered a Jameson . Katka was due to arrive in ten minutes and so I used the opportunity to look and see who was around.
I wasn't surprised to recognise the redhead with the piercing blue eyes. She was still plump and the only reason I wasted a thought on her were because of her eyes and the tattoo on her lower back, which reminded me of my girlfriend.
Sometimes I wonder why people turn and look at you when you're watching them. I noticed the redhead suddenly turn and look at me. It didn't make me blush, like it surely would have done two decades back, but I smiled to her in return. She raised her eye brows.
She wore low cut blue jeans and a sweater with turtleneck neckline, both of them far away from being an attraction to the viewer — she was ninety-five percent average and only five percent of her made me look. Oddly enough, her eye colour was wrong.
I watched her as she climbed from the chair and walked towards the rest-rooms. Her ass not firm and sexy like Katka's didn't sway in the same sexy style.
Moments later my girlfriend arrived and kissed me passionately. She ordered a vodka and juice for herself, before giving me a small package, wrapped in red paper. Its size was similar to those small boxes for rings, but it was flatter.
"Happy birthday, my dear. You might have use for it."
I was curious and ripped the paper away. When I discovered what it was, I was shocked for a few seconds.
"I think, you should definitely use it," Katka said.
We kissed again. I thanked her for the present with difficulty.
Why did she choose it? It wasn't a matter of the price, it cost much less than a drink in this bar. It was much more the imaginary price of the present what had me shocked.
Anouk and I never repeated the experience with snowballing and sharing my milky juice again. We broke up because of her smoking or, more exactly, the smell of ash in her mouth.
Some time later I excused myself and went to the restroom. I was washing my hands when I heard the door open. Instinctively I looked into the mirror, because I find it's better to know who enters the restroom. I frowned immediately when I recognised the redheaded woman.
The appearance of Katka wouldn't have been a big surprise. I also had a similar experience with another girl a couple of years back, but I hadn't thought about the redhead.
"Do you want to have a blowjob?" she asked, frankly and without any signs of hesitation. What was it with the young generation today? She was Katka's age, give or take a year, it was difficult to decide because of the bad lighting in the club.
She knelt down in front of me and her hands reached towards my zipper, obviously assuming that I would agree to her offer. Certainly nine out of ten men would have agreed. But it was my birthday and I wanted to enjoy this evening with my girlfriend. I definitely didn't want to risk this special relationship for a blowjob on a toilet in a club with too many unknown details.
"No," I said.
She froze in her motion.
"What?"
"Sorry, I can't. My girlfriend is waiting outside and I won't hurt her like this."
I left the restroom, leaving her behind, and headed for Katka.
Anouk and I didn't meet again for some years. We sometimes phoned with each other and after her graduation she moved to the South of France. One day, I got a call from her when she told me that she was pregnant.
I asked her if she was going to marry the father of the baby.
"No, he's just another guy who isn't worth it," she answered.
I saw the expression in Katka's eyes when I returned to her.
"What is?" I asked. Before I turned and saw the redhead who had obviously followed me back to the bar. Suddenly I felt like I was in a bad movie. Katka stared at me and the redhead as if she caught me with her in our bedroom at home. The redhead's face also seemed to have a startled expression.
The redhead spoke first.
"Katko, I don't know whether your boyfriend is the biggest loser I've ever met or if you have won the first price in the ultimate boyfriend lottery."
'What was going on?'
Katka emptied her glass and ordered another vodka. Actually she ordered two drinks. I already had a full glass of Jameson so I wondered who she had ordered the second drink for.
"It's not what you think," both of us said at the same moment.
"I know," she continued.
"Did you set me up?" I asked. I felt the blood rush in my veins, heat waved through my body, and I was only seconds before erupting like a volcano with my anger.
She shook her head.
"I must tell you..."
"Well?"
"It was my plan," she said after a few seconds, "That's true. First I have to introduce Šarka to you. She's been one of my best friends for years."
"Did you test me? Is this what our discussion yesterday about jealousy was about?"
"Part of it, yes, but different to what you're believing now. Sorry, somehow my plan got messed up. Actually Šarka is part of your present. Maybe if she was wrapped in paper as well..."
"My present?" I asked, still wondering but then it hit me. "Wait! You gave me the present for immediate use?"
She nodded. "What do you think the condom was for?" she asked rhetorically.
Now it was my turn to empty my drink quickly. With my thumb and the index finger I signalised a "J" to the bar keeper and added a half-shouted "Double" to my order.
"Did you really expect me to hurt you so shamelessly?"
"I knew about it so it wouldn't have been a betrayal," she answered.
"But you forgot an important detail; I wasn't informed. A couple of years back your plan would have worked, but meeting and falling in love with you has changed things a lot. When I said 'I love you', I did not only say it, I meant it."
A couple of drinks later — meanwhile Šarka and I got more comfortable with each other — we left the club and went to the Mexican restaurant and had dinner, steaks with green pepper and baked potatoes.
"Let's go home for some fun," Katka proposed after the meal.
Šarka was charming and lot of fun, almost like Anouk had been. The drinks and the red wine we had with the steaks did help us to get back into a good mood.
"Do you think I can finally get my tongue on your cock? I've heard so much good news about it," Šarka asked.
"I would like that." I smiled.
And I wasn't surprised when I heard Katka say, "I am sure he will stuff your pussy and I know that I am eager to rape your ass with my strap-on."
It was Šarka's answer which was surprising.
"It has been so long."
Šarka, Katka, and I didn't get much sleep that night, though we spent most of it in the bed. When I needed a break they simply continued without me, presenting a good show for me so I refreshed quickly.
It was late in the night when I discovered that the tattoos on the girls' lower back weren't just similar but they were identical. This revelation made me climax again and I pulled out and shot my semen over Šarka's ass.
Presents are sometimes surprising for a long time after you have unwrapped them.
Since that day we're still going out with Šarka sometimes. We visit a disco or go into a club, but usually we end up fooling around in our bedroom.
Katka and I steadfastly decided to continue with our relationship, whirl-wind or not. We intend to show our friends, that it's up to us to determine our perspectives and to move with the horizon.
Editorial notes:
I had this story in my mind as a sequel to "New Years Night in the Red 5" since the time I posted that story. But only the experience of writing "A Spring Night in the Red 5" (posted to ASSM several weeks ago) made it possible to write this story. Anyway, "A Birthday Night in the Red 5" is much longer than I originally intended.
Originally, I wanted to describe my fantasies about that redhead, but finally a very much autobiographical part (all about Anouk) made it into the text, but yet I don't know how. Excuse-moi, mon chérie! Thus, the redhead had to stand back, but be assured that she will return.
I tried to preserve the specific style of grammar in the Czech language by using the respective forms of a name in the different cases; e.g. the accusative form is Mirek, while the vocative version of the barkeeper's name was Mirko.
In the Czech language exist several special characters; the letter š is spoken like sh in shower. For the posting in Usenet I had to transcribe the name Šarka as Sharka.
The Shakespeare quote from Hamlet I got aware of for the first time in the English version, when I read "Book 3 — Kendall" of Nick Scipio's wonderful story series "Summer Camp". It was him who inspired me to put words together and try to form a story for the first time. (You might have heard this statement by several other writers before but it's true.)
The characters and the events described in this story are based on true events. While the real events had been enhanced for the purpose of dramatisation (i.e. other or not true events have been added), all eventual similarities between this story and real life became purely coincidance. The depicted persons on the illustrations are not involved with this story.