Unhappy Birthday

It's my birthday, again soon. I'm be twenty-five this year. Although I am married and live with my husband, I am very much alone. Although I have friends, I have only seen their faces in pictures. Although I am constantly busy, I am unsatisfied with my life. This week I've planned a meal, baked a cake from scratch, decorated, wrapped presents supposedly from my husband, practiced my surprised face and otherwise prepared to have family over for another celebration. Probably all for naught again, someone that's related to me somewhere will have an emergency, and I'll unwrap my presents alone again. Even though I adjusted my celebration to the weekend to suit the schedules I know everyone has to keep.

I'm right...noone knocked on the door, or even bothered calling. I'll call around to find out what family emergency I've been left out of the loop on this time. I light the candles on the cake, hum the pathetic tune to myself and blow them out, wishing. Later I strip off my clothes before falling into bed, eshausted as usual. Curling into a ball beneath the sheets, snuggling into the pillow and escaping into the world of my dreams.

I'm on a path between a field and forest. The landscape is a hodge podge of places that I've gone to throughout my life. At the bottom of the field is a lake I know I have not laid eyes on since I was eight, and yet the tree beside me is a mesquite I walked past just the other day, beyond it is a cedar I climbed when I was twelve. I know this is a dream, and I take a deep breath, becoming lucid within it. I glance down, realizing I'm carrying my cane, I pick it up and bring it down across a raised knee, the metal shattering as though wood, and I drop the fragments. I throw away the other hated objects that have become a habit to carry wherever I go. My bag and headwrap end up decorating a thorny scrubbrush, I laugh at the perilous way they attach to it, like velcro. I begin to run down the gentle slope to the lake, enjoying the wind in my face.

As I come to the sandy shore of the lake, I look around as though I expect to see other people there, but there are none so I shrug off the remainder of my clothes at the beginning of the dock. I walk out slowly on the warm wood, I smile to myself as I run out to the edge and dive smoothly into the water. I don't even bother holding my breath, the water is warm and I slice through it, gasping as I break the surface, blowing bubbles out as I curve beneath the water again, over and over until I feel sand beneath my feet again. I look back across the lake, the pier is barely visible. I'm on my island...my happy place.

He's there, I can feel him before I hear him step into the water and lean down offering a hand to help lift me from my place, lounging in the shallow water. I take his hand, his fingers curl warmly around mine, deep brown eyes framed by raven brows gaze into mine. He's my dream guy, and by no means is he an Adonis, but he is the epitomy of desire for me. A little taller than me, his stocky frame is decently muscled beneath a comfortable layer of fat. I poke his gut teasingly and we laugh because I have one that almost matches.

He walks with me to the shack, it's old stones look like they can barely support the tin roof, but I love it more than ever. It begins to rain almost as soon as we hit the front steps. Large drops making musical sounds on the metal roof, glass windows and even the stone walls. Inside is a table lit with candles, displaying a meal I didn't make, a cake I didn't bake and presents that I actually have no clue what are. We eat, I open the gifts, surprized to find that they are simple and thoughtful rather than asininely extravagant. We then dance to the music of the rain until it ceases, and my dream fades away.

I awaken, the morning sun is streaming in through the bedroom window, the alarm clock clamours, insisting that I start the day. My husband stirs next to me, I get up, not bothering to grab my glasses before I limp down the hall, slapping the air conditioner off as I go. Glaring into the mirror until the world stops playing tilt-a-whirl and I can step into the shower. Hissing at the water as it starts out cold, then becomes blazing hot before settling into a happy medium I can withstand. Grabbing up the soap and working it into a lather with my washcloth, spreading it over every inch of my body before grabbing my razor. The sharp blades scrape away every trace of unwanted hair smoothly, letting it wash down the drain along with my tears of frustration. After rinsing under the water I grab the shower head and sink down onto my knees in the tub and succumb my desires, the warm water continues to spray around me when I drop the nozzle, teasing lightly against my flesh.

My hands graze up and over my head, my skin sensitized by the lack of hair, every touch sending shivers through me. Down the sides of my neck, my nails digging in lightly to leave red traces behind. My hands cross eachother as they move down to my breasts, pinching and pulling lightly as my fingers encircle my nipples. I cup one breast and bring the nipple to my mouth, moaning softly as my lips close around it and I suckle hard, nibbling slightly with my teeth. My other hand skims over my stomach down between my thighs, stroking my mons softly, teasing, then fishes around in the bottom of the tub for the shower head. Switching the water to a gentle massage, I move the spray up my thighs, then aim it directly where I want it, gripping the showerhead with my feet as I bring my hand back to spread my lips for the water splashing against them. It's a gentle teasing spray, I know, but after a while I can feel the sensations begin to build, my hips rock as though to grind harder against the water, futile I know, but my body takes over.

The hand that was holding my breast to my lips slips up between them, sucking two of them softly before pressing them against my anus. First one, then the other slide in, twisting together, matched by the fingers of my other hand sliding into my pussy. I moan again, my voice echoing off the tile, my heart seems to jump into my throat and my pulse slow down. Ages seem to pass with the water splashing against my clit and lips, my fingers stroking in my warm, wet holes along with it until, something snaps and I explode into orgasmic convulsions, then collapse in the tub, panting heavily.

Once recovered, I return the shower head to it's normal posistion and setting, rinsing off again. My stress having washed down the drain with my orgasm, my nerves steeled to face another day of doldrums. I mutter to myself: "Happy freakin' birthday my ass."