There’s
a knock at the door. It’s fairly late and you’re not expecting anyone. In
fact, you’ve settled down for the night in front of Sex in the City with a tub
of chocolate ice cream. Can life get any better than this? But now someone is
here to spoil it all. Probably someone come to wish you happy birthday when
you’d rather just forget all about it and lose yourself in a litre of Hagen
Daz.You open the door with the chain still on and slam it shut again. This has
got to be someone’s idea of a joke! After a few seconds you open up again,
just a crack. The JDBlookalike in a sailor suit smiles a bit sheepishly and
mumbles, “Singing telegram... your friends from the message board sent me,
they said it was your birthday”. You don’t know whether to laugh or die of
embarrassment. You open the door a little wider. “So what are you going to
sing?”
“I thought I’d stick with the classic,” he mutters in
the direction of his boots. Shaking your head you decide to let him in before
the neighbours start to appear. He really does look like a lot James, it’s
uncanny. He also looks extremely uncomfortable. He clears his throat and takes a
great interest in your ceiling, while you stand waiting with your arms wrapped
around your ice cream tub in the middle of your kitchen. Maybe it was a mistake
letting this guy in, you don’t know him from Adam. Then he finally looks you
in the eye and your stomach hits the floor. You don’t know how they did it,
but you actually have James Dean Bradfield standing in your kitchen!!!
He
starts to sing quite softly “Happy Birthday to you”, never taking his eyes
off yours. “Happy Birthday to you” he takes a step closer. “Happy Birthday
dear............”you take several steps back, and bump into the table.
“Happy birthday to you”. He’s standing just inches in front of you and
you’re finding it quite difficult to breathe. He leans in and places his hands
on the table on either side of you and murmurs in your ear. “This is a
full-service telegram”, gently rubbing against your cheek, ear, neck. His lips
graze along your jaw line and work their way up to yours. Unfortunately your
mouth is hanging open in disbelief. He starts to chuckle. “You’re not really
shocked are you? Your friends are very resourceful… and you’re definitely
worth it.” He turns his attention back to your mouth, nipping gently at your
bottom lip. Taking the ice-cream tub out of your hands, whispering “We’ll
need that later”, he lifts you onto the table, pulls open your bathrobe and
you wrap your legs around his waist. His erection is already straining against
your crotch, and you both instinctively start to rub against each other, kissing
as if your life depended on it! He breaks off abruptly and takes a step back.
“Wait,” he says a little breathlessly “it’s your birthday. What do you
want?”
“I want youuuu!” you howl, pulling him in again.
“No,” he says patiently, and pushes his finger into your mouth, stroking
your tongue, before running it down the length of your body, finding your clit
and deftly rubbing you (the right way BABY). “I mean, what do you REALLY
want?” You fall back on to the table and completely give in to the feelings
rushing over you. He leans over you, pinning your arms above your head, “If
you don’t tell me I’ll just do what I want” and starts to lick. Starting
at your neck, down to your breasts and teasing your nipples until you gasp out
loud. Moving down to your belly, he pauses, takes a spoonful of ice-cream and
dollops it into your navel. You scream and flinch, but he just holds you
tighter, and chases the ice cream around with his tongue, up your belly and back
to your breasts, licking and sucking until it’s disappeared. It’s freezing,
exquisite agony and you’re begging him never to stop when that’s exactly
what he does. You open your mouth to complain (yes really), but all that comes
out is a groan of desire as his head dips into your lap and he slides his cold
tongue into your cunt and firmly over your clit until you’re screaming in
ecstasy, your hands tangled in his hair. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhgoooooddddddddd.
Something pops into what’s left of the mush that used to be your brain. He’s
still dressed. “I want you naked” you manage to say struggling up on to your
elbows. James stops in his tracks. “What???”
“I want to see you naked” “Oh, ummmmm…”
“It’s my birthday James”.
“Errrr, yes it is”.
“It’s what I REALLY want”. He stands up straight, “Right then” and
slowly starts to peel off his shirt, blushing slightly under your gaze. “This
wasn’t supposed to be a strip-a-gram,” he grumbles good-naturedly, “I’m
very shy y’know!” and you almost choke trying not to laugh. As he starts to
undo his pants he looks up at you again, and a wicked smile appears on his face
“You’re in for such a f**king once I’m naked!”, pushes his pants down
over his hips, and your mouth drops open one more time!!!