Birthday Booty

Jim’s birthday party gets a bit wilder than anyone expects.

Jim tried not to cringe as the last warbling strains of the customarily off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday" from his frat brothers and friends trailed off. Bless their souls, but he’d heard better singing from a pack of braying baboons.

"Make a wish, buddy!" said Ray, setting the "cake" down in front of Jim. It was just a cupcake, and a small one at that, with a flimsy little candle clumsily stuck into the frosting. Anyone else would have been disappointed, but Jim was glad. He didn’t particularly like cake, and this seemed a reasonable compromise.

"You better fucking hope I don’t wish that you eat dirt next time we meet on the field, bro!" Jim declared, clapping his hand on Ray’s forearm just as Ray did the same to him.

Jim had known Ray since high school. He was glad that they had only grown closer through university. He heard too many stories of friends drifting apart after high school. He didn’t want his healthy rivalry with Ray to ever end.

"Yeah, yeah, like that’s gonna happen," said Ray, with a boisterous laugh. "Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and make your wish?"

Jim shot an expression of mock-outrage at Ray. He chuckled. God. He loved this guy. He shook his head as he picked the cupcake up and held it in front of his face for a moment. He took a deep breath and blew the little flame out.

"What did you wish for?" said Ray, grinning from ear to ear.

Jim scoffed. "Like I’ll ever tell your ugly mug," he said. Truth be told, he didn’t really wish for anything. He didn’t believe that wishing on the candle did anything to begin with, and even if it did, he didn’t want to seem too greedy. He had a good enough life, as it was. The only thing he didn’t have was a partner, but that wasn’t the kind of thing he thought should be wished for, anyway.

"Well, go on, then," said Ray.

Jim blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d zoned out. Ray’s voice had broken him out of his thoughts. "What?" he said.

"Are you going to eat the fucking cupcake or not?" said Ray, playfully elbowing Jim in the ribs. "Because if not, then I’ll take it. Unlike you, I’m not afraid of a little sugar."

Jim snatched the cupcake out of Ray’s reach. "Like hell you’re getting your grubby little fingers on my cupcake," said Jim.

"You don’t even like pastry," Ray complained.

"I don’t," said Jim, glancing sideways at their friends. "But now that I know you want it, there’s no way I’m going to give it to you," he said.

Before Ray could say anything else, Jim plucked the candle out of the frosting and crammed the cupcake into his face. It was small enough that it could fit in his mouth. He grinned widely at Ray as he chewed slowly and deliberately in front of his buddy’s face.

For what it was worth, the cupcake was delicious. It was more on the savory side than the sweet, just how Jim liked it. There was a faint tanginess to it that he couldn’t place, a slight salty-sweetness that made him shiver as it spread on his tongue.

"Goddamn," Jim whispered, as everyone dispersed toward the table with all the food. "That was one fucking hell of a cupcake," he said.


"Hey."

Jim jumped. He shook his head and looked at the person who’d talked to him. It was Ray. It was weird. Jim felt a little… not quite there.

"I’ll leave you two to it…" said another voice. Jim looked toward the source of it but all he saw was the back of a guy walking away.

Jim frowned. He could have sworn that guy had been squeezing his biceps. Not that he could blame the guy. He knew how tight his muscles looked. It was just… weird.

It was probably nothing. He was probably just imagining things, Jim thought. He wasn’t a very handsy, touchy-feely kind of person. There was no way he would have let a random guy feel him up.

"You okay, dude?" said Ray. "Looks like you’ve been out of it for a little bit."

It was pretty rare that Ray expressed genuine concern without being sardonic about it. Usually, it meant that things were pretty gnarly.

Jim didn’t feel particularly bad, though. He wasn’t even a little stressed, which was saying something. He felt a bit floaty, a bit fuzzy, but that wasn’t a negative, necessarily. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I-I’m fine."

Ray raised an eyebrow at Jim. He didn’t seem convinced but Jim couldn’t think of any other way to put it. Thankfully, Ray didn’t push the matter. "Hey, this might sound stupid but I got a question," said Ray.

"Yeah?" said Jim, staring at the red solo cup that was in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was holding something. He took a sip. It smelled nice, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it smelled like. It was a bit salty, and slightly warm as it went down. It was pretty thick, too, but he kind of liked that.

Jim turned to face Ray. "Shoot."

"Have you noticed anything weird about my speakers?" said Ray.

Jim raised an eyebrow. There was no way Ray‘s speakers were off. They were legendary back in high school, and even among their dorm mates in their first year. They had been the life of many a wild party. It boggled the mind to think there was anything wrong about them.

Ray nodded. "Yeah. I know it’s been a while since I’ve taken them out, and they’re usually pretty spot on but I swear there’s something off about them," he said. "I just can’t tell what it is!"

Truth be told, Jim hadn’t even realized there was music in the air. He tilted his head to the side for a bit and said, "Nah. Sounds all good to me."

"You sure?" said Ray. He seemed bothered. Jim hadn’t picked up on anything, but Ray did know his speakers better. "Maybe I’m imagining things."

Jim nodded. That was as good an explanation as any, if he was being honest. "Don’t worry about it," he said. "It’s my birthday! Just enjoy the party!"


Jim’s eyes fluttered open. He could hear it. He could hear it. Like a hiss in the background of the slow and sensual strains of music in the air. He could scarcely believe it. Ray was right. Something was off with the speakers.

Reluctantly, Jim pushed himself up off the ottoman he’d been draped over for the last…he didn’t remember. He gently extricated himself from the clutches of one of his frat bros, whose face had been buried in the crack of his ass, and groaned at the sudden feeling of emptiness he felt once his frat bro’s tongue slipped out of him.

Jim briefly considered lying back down, but no. He had to tell Ray that he’d heard it, too. He didn’t know why, exactly, he just knew that he had to.

As he was getting out from behind the ottoman, Jim nearly tripped over his boxers. He didn’t know why they were still around his ankles, but they were getting in the way. He bent down and stripped them off one leg at a time and tossed them aside.

There was a faint haze of something in the air. It was faintly smoky, a little bit musky, with just the slightest hint of spice.

Jim felt that maybe he should have been more concerned. A house fire was a big deal, after all. But the haze smelled good. It made his lungs and chest tingle. And he didn’t even remember why he was worried after a few more deep breaths.

It took Jim a while to find Ray. He had to step gingerly around the house because there guys all over the place. Just as he spotted his friend he had to step over two of his frat bros, topless, making out, and grinding against one another on the floor.

Jim reached over and tapped Ray on the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, I think I can hear it, too," he said.

"Hear what?" said Ray, looking up over his shoulder at Jim. He had a wide grin plastered across his face, and his eyes were glazed over and unfocused. He was sitting with his arms draped over the back of the couch and his legs wide open as the university football team’s quarterback and linebacker were spit-shining the slab of meat sticking up from his crotch.

Jim licked his lips. He was drooling a little. Well, maybe a lot. All over his tight-fitting tank-top that said Birthday Boy, too. He couldn’t stop staring at Ray’s big, juicy cock.

Jim blinked. He shook his head. He had come to tell Ray something. "I heard…" he mumbled. He couldn’t quite remember. It was at the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t quite get it out.

"I… um… I heard something… I-I think…" Jim stammered, as he wracked his head for what he’d come all the way over here for.

Jim’s shoulders drooped. "I-I can’t remember."

Ray waved his hand dismissively. "Who cares?" he said, grunting as the quarterback sucked on the head of his cock. "Don’t worry about it. It’s your birthday! Just enjoy the party!"

Jim grinned. It was his birthday. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea to just enjoy it.


There was smoke in the air. Smoke and something else. Something that smelled wonderfully thick and musky.

Jim tilted his head up and took a deep breath. The air was so muggy that every breath felt like he was drinking soup. It made him shiver.

It was weird. Jim couldn’t remember much of anything. He wasn’t sure where he was or what he was doing there. He was pretty sure that it was his birthday, but he wasn’t 100% on it.

It didn’t matter. Jim couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed he wasn’t on his ottoman anymore, but he couldn’t exactly complain.

Jim was leaning over the back of the couch, his knees on the cushioned seat. He was arching his back, pushing his ass out as someone’s fingers dug into his thick, meaty bubble, and someone’s tongue wriggled inside of him. It felt really good.

"Hey, Jim," said a voice, whispering in Jim’s ear. The tongue in his ass had been pulled out, and whoever had been behind there was speaking to him, now. "You sure you’re okay?"

It took a moment, but Jim recognized who was talking. It was Ray. God. He hadn’t known his best friend’s tongue felt so good. "Yeah, I am," he said, a bit miffed to be asked the question again.

"Yeesh. No need to be prickly. I was just asking because it’s your turn and you still haven’t taken your shot," said Ray. He was so close that Jim could feel the heat of his breath on the back of his neck. In fact, Jim could smell Ray’s breath, and it smelled like whatever was in the air, only a hundred times stronger.

"Shot?" said Jim.

Ray jerked his chin forward. Jim looked in that direction. Someone had pulled a table up behind the couch, with a row of shot glasses filled with some sort of milky white stuff inside.

Jim grimaced. It looked slimy and not particularly appetizing. But damn if it didn’t smell great. "What is that?" he said, more than a little bit hesitant to put any of the stuff inside his body.

"You’re asking that now? You’ve already had like, twelve!" said Ray. "Here. Let’s take one together, if it helps you feel any better."

Jim grabbed a shot glass at the same time as Ray did. They clinked them together. Ray knocked his back in record time, but Jim wavered.

"Hey," said Ray. "I said we’d take one together. Stop thinking too much. It’s perfectly safe. Don’t worry about it. It’s your birthday! Just enjoy the party!"

Jim laughed. He couldn’t argue with that. He raised the glass to his lips and gulped down his shot. It tasted so good.


Jim looked at the camera and grinned. His face was plastered with cum, and dripping with sweat and he had a cock in either hand, ready to splatter him with the next load. Ray’s cock was plunging in and out of his hole, fucking the cum out of him as he moaned.

Every thrust, every slap of Ray’s hips against Jim’s ass felt like it was rattling his skull around in his head, turning his thoughts to mush, making his intelligence leak out of his ears.

Jim moaned, desperately bucking his hips back into Ray’s thrusts as the man behind the camera, who he couldn’t see past the bright, swirling light shining in his face, said, "Hey, birthday boy, is there anything you want to say to your fans?"

Jim chuckled. "Enjoy the party!" he said, eyes rolling back in his head as Ray’s cock slammed into prostate and his cock exploded thick musky cum all over his chest and stomach.

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