I woke up to the sound of Cindy singing in the shower. I yawned and turned my head to look at the clock. It was almost nine, and the winter sun was streaming in through the triangular windows set up high in the wall, bathing the big room in a cozy glow. I closed my eyes to catch a few more minutes, but it's impossible to sleep when Cindy is singing. It's not that she can't carry a tune, she actually has rather pleasant soprano. The problem is that she never remembers the lyrics, so she hums and mumbles and makes things up as she goes along.

" ... Are you strong enough to be my man?
... Lie ... with me.
... Eat pie ... with me.
... But don't leave..."

Not quite the way Sheryl Crow wrote it. I pulled the covers aside and got to my feet. I don't want to sound like a whiner. Today was Cindy's birthday, and she was entitled to sing all she wanted.

The door to the bathroom was open just a crack, and tendrils of steam were drifting lazily out into the bedroom. I eased the door open a few more inches. As usual, she had left the fan off and the bathroom was wall-to-wall fog.

" ... Are you strong enough to be my man?"

I could only occasionally make out Cindy's ghostly form moving around behind the glass doors of our oversized shower stall. Feeling like an actor in a bad action movie, I waited until I thought her back was turned and then slipped though the door and pressed against the wall, breathing in the thick, sweet smell of shampoo and conditioner.

" ... Are you strong enough to be my man?

... Are you long enough to be my man?"

This latest was followed by a cackle of delight.

I peeled off my t-shirt, trying not to make any sudden movements. Then I stepped out of my boxer shorts. Unfortunately, my cock was already as stiff as a coat peg, and I slipped and almost fell as I yanked my boxer shorts down.

"DG, is that you?"

The slim outline of my wife materialized behind the glass. The outline became more substantial, and then two round, distinct circles of flesh appeared as she pressed her breasts against the door.

"I really hope that's you, honey."

She waited a few seconds, then moved away from the glass, leaving behind a little steam-free area the shape of an infinity sign.

" ... Are you long enough to be my man?"

... Are you hard enough to be my man?

... Lie ... with me

... eat my pie ... for me."

Her singing voice was getting downright lascivious. I heard the sound of the shower change from a constant stream to a pulse, and I smiled to myself. I moved quickly across the bathroom and opened the shower door.

"Aha! Caught ya, babe."

My wife was sitting on the built-in stone bench, holding the removable chrome shower head in her hand. Cindy is a petite brunette with a lean, fit body and a face that generates double takes from men. Her long hair was smoothed back around one shoulder, and her brown eyes sparkled at me through the steam.

"This pulse mode is great for getting the lint out from between my toes," she said innocently. Her eyes dropped to my midsection. "Don't hurt yourself when you shut the door, sweetie."

I shut the door, being careful not to get anything caught, and said "I'm sorry. I thought you might be using the shower to pleasure yourself."

"Hmm. You mean like this?"

She changed the setting from a heavy pulse to a shimmering, hissing torrent and then aimed the stream at the neat patch of curly hair between her legs. The water streamed down through the cleft of her pussy and over her thighs, bubbling and hissing like a mountain waterfall.

I dropped to my knees at the end of the bench and spread her legs farther apart, and Cindy dropped the shower head and eagerly slithered down until she was lying on her back with her hips off the edge. When we remodeled the master bath a few years ago, we designed the shower bench to accommodate just this sort of activity.

"Happy birthday, babe!" I pushed my erection down until it was aimed at its target.

"Is that my present you've got there?"

"This is just for starters," I assured her. "I've got a full day planned." I thrust forward, and let out an involuntary moan of pleasure as I slid into her warm love tunnel. There's nothing like the feeling of sharing a raging morning woodie with your special someone.

After just a few seconds, I knew that my performance wasn't going to earn me the nickname "iron man." In fact, it was all I could do to keep from going off early like a defective grenade. I forced myself to slow the pace a little and then I picked up the shower head, which was still gushing warm bubbly water.

Like my buddy Bart used to tell me, women don't care how long you last, as long as it's a few seconds longer than they do.

I switched back over to pulse mode and aimed the spray directly at her clit.

"Oooh," she said appreciatively. "Now that's a birthday treat."

The only problem was that the stream of water was cascading down around my overfilled balls, adding another source of stimulation. It was going to be close.

"Oh! Honey ... I'm..." She didn't finish her sentence, but the way her eyes rolled up in her head and every muscle in her body suddenly tensed spoke volumes.

"Me too," I grunted. I pulled out and sprayed a generous load of sticky come all over her stomach and breasts.

"Hey!"

Cindy was laughing so hard she almost slid off the bench onto the floor. "What was that? Are we practicing for a porno movie or something?"

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me." I used the spray to sluice her clean.

"Well, I certainly know what came over me."

I finished my shower, dressed quickly, and went downstairs to the kitchen, where I turned on the griddle over the stove and set a large pot of coffee to brew. Then I whipped up a bowl of my famous pancake batter - one of the few things I can cook well. I made a big stack of pancakes and left them on edge of the stove to stay warm. Then I poured two mugs of coffee and took them back upstairs.

"Do I smell coffee?" Cindy was standing in her walk-in closet, wearing matching bra and panties in a silky tan material. I handed her a mug and she took a grateful sip.

"So what are we doing today?" she asked. "What should I wear?"

"We're going shopping at the mall. And you can buy anything you want."

"Really? Oh goodie!"

"Wear something sexy. A short skirt would be great. Stockings, not hose."

She gave me a wary, amused look. "Whatever you say, dear. Wait outside."

A few minutes later she walked out of the closet wearing a black miniskirt and a bright yellow silk blouse with tiny green frogs on it. A wide belt with a gold buckle accentuated her narrow waist. Her black sheer stockings had a discreet pattern of diamonds down the sides. It sounds pretty flashy, but Cindy has a talent for making outfits like this work.

"Yummy," I said.

"Is that for me?" She was looking nervously at the small, gaily- wrapped package sitting on the bed.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Uh-hum. Thanks." She picked it up gingerly and gave it a careful shake.

This is probably a good time to mention that Cindy and I have a tradition of giving each other gag gifts on our birthdays. In the beginning it was good clean fun, along the lines of ugly ties and whoopie cushions, but recently the stakes have gotten higher. This year my gag gift included a black leather gag, with matching wrist and ankle cuffs. I spent most of my special day chained to a post in the basement, polishing Cindy's extensive boot collection with my tongue. I'll tell you all about it as soon as my therapist thinks I'm ready.

"Deej, you're not still mad about..."

"My birthday? Don't be silly, I had a blast."

She unwrapped her present and opened the box, peered inside with a worried look. "I know I got a little carried away with the riding crop..."

"You already apologized for that, hon. Besides, you can't even see where the welts were."

She finally reached in and took out a small black object, shaped a little like a letter "J". The longer end had a pleasingly organic bulb shape to it, and the shorter end was covered with little bumps.

"Oh dear," said Cindy. "It's a vibrator, isn't it?" She was turning it in her hands, stroking the smooth plastic with her thumb in a way that suggested she wasn't completely displeased.

"Yep. Don't be fooled by the small size - that's a state-of-the-art pleasure device. It's designed to stay in place without you having to hold onto it. Probably by a female gynecologist with too much time on her hands."

Cindy has a childlike curiosity, especially for anything sexual, and I wasn't surprised when she wriggled out of her panties and slipped her new present inside her.

"How does it feel?"

"Fine - I can hardly tell it's there." She looked confused. "But how do you turn it on?"

I took the little remote out of my pocket. "With this."

"You mean it's remote controlled?" She laughed. "You've got to be kidding me. Let me see..."

Suddenly her eyes grew wide and unfocused, and she got very weak in the knees.

"Whoops!" I held onto her elbow to steady her. "Hey, did you feel anything just now? Because I gave you a little..."

"DG! Let me see that."

I handed her the remote and she studied it with avid interest. "That was amazing. It stimulates everything at once. So I guess you just push this green ... Oh wow..."

I grabbed her before she could slump to the floor and switched it off. I said "Maybe we need to dial it down a little."

I adjusted the intensity and buzzed her again. This time she just got a dreamy smile on her face.

She leaned against me and purred. "Deej, honey, that's really nice."

A few seconds later she said, in a woozy voice, "I get it now ... you pulled out early in the shower so my pussy would be nice and clean for my present."

"Right."

"I'm going to be wearing this at the mall, aren't I?"

"Yep."

"And you're going to have the remote."

"But of course."

She sighed. "I think I'm in big trouble."

"Don't be silly, we're going to have a blast."

She was quiet for a few seconds. Then I noticed that she had slipped one hand under her skirt.

"Hey, that's not allowed!" I pulled her hand away. "Especially when we're in public."

"Well, duh! Come on, turn it up a little, will you? I'm almost..."

I slid the intensity knob on the remote a little higher with my thumb, and put my arm around Cindy to hold her steady.

She buried her face in my neck and said "Mmmmm..."

I felt her stiffen and suck in her breath as she came, and then I switched her off.

"Thank you." Her face was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling more brightly than usual. "Could you do me again?"

"Not yet - I think two orgasms before breakfast is plenty. Now put your panties back on and come downstairs - I made pancakes."

The pancakes were delicious, as usual.

Cindy does most of her shopping at the Northbrook mall, but I didn't want to go someplace where all the clerks knew her by name so we drove out west to the huge Oak Brook mall. There were a few weeks left before Christmas, twenty or so "shopping days" as the retail industry calls them, but the parking lots were still full. Something to do with the consumer confidence index, no doubt. I tried the parking garage, and found a good spot in the corner of the top level.

Inside, the holiday decorations were up and the Christmas music was working its insidious magic on the ears of all the consumers, increasing their already-high confidence to new heights. We sauntered along the main corridor, carried along by the flow of people.

"So where should we start?" asked Cindy.

"I need to stop at Radio Shack at some point for some speaker wire. Other than that, I'm open to suggestions. It's your birthday, sweetcheeks."

"And I can buy whatever I want?" She slowed down in front of an expensive jewelry store, and came to a stop in front of a display case filled with enough gold jewelry to outfit an entire NBA team.

"Just remember what I've got here in my pocket."

I pressed a button on the little remote, giving her a short buzz on medium power. She straightened up and let out a little squeak, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

"Cut that out! You mean if I try to buy anything... ?"

"The more expensive it is, the higher the power setting. Anything with diamonds in it, you'll be rolling around on the carpet making barnyard noises before you can get anywhere near the register."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well then, is there anything here you might potentially approve of, Mr. Sade?"

"That's 'Marquis' to you. Actually I was thinking of a custom pendant, like the rappers wear. 'Cindy' in inch-high gold letters."

"Not really me, I don't think. Any other ideas?"

"Hmm ... how about an ankle bracelet?"

"Seriously? That might be cool."

"Sure, why not? Do something a little different. I'll tell you what, if you can get a salesman to kneel down and put a bracelet around your ankle, I'll let you buy it without any, shall we say ... unnecessary distractions."

"You're on," she said with a giggle.

I followed Cindy into the store and watched from a discreet distance as she arrowed in on a middle-aged salesman and immediately garnered his full attention. I noticed that his eyes kept straying to her legs. I couldn't really blame him, given how much of them was exposed. Before long he had a whole row of gold bracelets laid out on the glass counter for Cindy to inspect.