Shiny Happy Birthday
The day was finally here, and Lucy waited for him to knock on her door. The weeks preceding this she’d spent as if under the influence of a drug. She lost sleep and concentration while planning and anticipating his birthday surprise. The excitement was so intense that she began to wonder just who this celebration was actually for, him — or her. She had to masturbate furiously twice a day just to attain some relief.
This wasn’t his actual birthday — that he’d spent working — but a few days after that they’d planned to spend the evening together. She uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured half a glass while she waited. His friendly rap was soon heard on the door — never too hard, never too timid. She was grinning profusely as she opened the door and it was then that he knew something was up. Before stepping aside to let him in, she produced a necktie and tied it around his eyes. His first thought was that of embarrassment in case someone should see but, once inside, his excitement rose.
“This is just to raise your anticipation level, I won’t keep your eyes covered,” she said in a low voice into his ear.
She guided him with one hand around his shoulder and the other wrapped around his belly so he could extend his own hands into the air in front of him. He was smiling and yet had a bit of tightness around his chin that revealed he was trying hard to adjust to the absence of one of his senses. They got to what he knew must be the spare bedroom and he could hear the doorknob turn and the door open. The familiar, old scent of lavender came wafting out of the room on a wave of heat. Once inside, the door shut again, she took off the tie and his eyes were already open. He blinked a couple of times and couldn’t believe what he saw.
The room had been transformed. It was no longer a spare bedroom but a theatre of pleasure. There were exotic fabrics clinging to the ceiling and draping down to the floor. There were at least four silver trays holding lit candles, oils and liquids in colored glass bottles, along with fancy feathers and various other, as yet undetermined, little instruments of joy.
At the center of it all was a bed raised up to counter top height, topped with a hundred pillows, and decorated with pastel pom-poms and streamers so as to give it the impression of being a layered cake. The bed was flanked by two swing-arm lamps which appeared to guard it like two mythical, long-necked birds.
She’d been watching his face carefully as he looked about the room in complete awe, tiny beads of sweat beginning to form at his hairline. He looked back at her with the shiniest expression that she had ever seen and, with the gleeful enthusiasm of a schoolboy, said, “What do I do?”
She kissed his gorgeous mouth and led him to the bed. He took hold of the skirting and pulled it up to see how it was raised. “Scaffold,” she whispered. She began by taking off his jacket. He’d become quite damp in the super-heated room with all his clothes on. She unbuttoned his shirt from top to bottom, deliberately slow.
From the closer vantage point he could see that there were powders, creams and also colored liquids warming over tea lights, in addition to an array of fine paintbrushes arranged on the trays.
With each undone button she parted the fabric of his shirt and the moist hairs on his chest and stomach were pulled and then returned to their original position on his perfect skin. He felt so good standing there in his warm birthday room being undressed by her, knowing he’d be naked and high up on that bed in a second. He let his head roll back and closed his eyes so he could concentrate on her fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. She stood very close in front of him and slid both hands into the back of his trousers and down over his ass.
Instinct made her pull him toward her and reason made her let go. She pulled the garments down and he sat while she removed his shoes and socks. Now he was completely naked and she still fully clothed. She produced a step stool and placed it so he could climb up onto the bed. He ascended with the ease of someone who had been climbing up into that bed every night for a long time. He lay down on his back with his arms and legs splayed over the pile of pillows. She put on classical chant and it suddenly occurred to him that a part of his being might be sacrificed tonight in this very room on this altar.
He opened his eyes to see her training one of the lamps on his crotch and decided, whatever it was, he was glad to see it go.
She leaned over him and told him in a most soothing voice to try not to think of anything else but what was happening right now-and that’s exactly what he did. She began with his scalp, massaging lightly with the device that promised a natural endorphin high. It acted like ten long fingernails in unison to promote relaxation. His dark brown hair was so thick and had a soft wave in the back. She loved his smell and put her nose close enough to take it in. When he seemed almost relaxed enough to fall asleep, she asked him if he was thirsty. She held the glass containing pomegranate juice to his lips while he drank. She then turned her attention to his neck and shoulders. Lucy opted to stimulate his skin rather than massage him into slumber.
He felt the sensation of a hot liquid being painted down his throat and around his adam’s apple. He opened his eyes to see her leaning down, tongue extended, to clean off what she had just done. Her tongue felt wide and flat and she pressed it firmly back and forth across his throat. He felt his cock stir but resisted the urge to assume an active role. He then saw her with a delicate little paintbrush between her fingers. She leaned in close and began to paint something on and around his hard, little nipples. She grinned in amusement and he looked down to see two ’60s-style flowers on his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked that but, before he could protest, she was tickling his sides with one of the feathers.
“Stop. Pleeeease!” He pleaded through his giggles. She did stop and resumed the ritual by misting his hands and feet with something that had a wonderful, spicy smell. She rubbed them with her hands until the liquid was absorbed. She was particularly attracted to the strong curves below his double-jointed knees and paused to show her appreciation by tracing them to memory with her tongue. She then turned around and came back with a little blue jar in one hand.
She solemnly lifted his knees and secured them with his hands. She adjusted the other lamp so that it concentrated light on his landscape of sex. He had never felt more in the spotlight than he did right at this moment. She dipped her finger into the blue jar and brought it to his anus, blowing on it to even out the temperature. She rubbed it in circles, dipping when necessary, until his sweet little hole gleamed, shiny and smooth. She then rubbed her face on his balls, transferring his odor and took his prize penis into her mouth from between his legs.
He was making more noise than he ever had before. His eyes were closed and his head was rocking back and forth like someone in the throes of a fever. She took him to the back of her throat and out again as the heat from the friction and his body mounted and her face was suddenly covered with sweat. The desire to penetrate him was overpowering and she quickly dipped her middle finger into the blue jar again and entered his ass as far as her finger would go. He screeched out a sound that made her think of Aesop’s lion having the thorn pulled out of its paw. She finger-fucked him with tiny strokes and he began bucking uncontrollably into her face with his orgasm.
She turned off the lights and climbed up into bed with him. He demonstrated his gratitude the next the morning after which, they showered together. In front of the bathroom mirror he noticed the painted flowers still surrounding his nipples. “Look at this,” he said. She got a bottle of the paint and put on her glasses.
“I’m sorry darling, it doesn’t say edible, it says indelible.”