A Cure For The Birthday Blues

This is a slight departure from my normal fare, but not radically different, I hope, see what you think! I wrote this because someone asked me to, after daring me to, then double-daring me, and when they double-dog dared me, I had no choice, the honour of my family was at stake...

This is not set in the real world, the one you and I (usually) live in, it's a made-up place and time that looks amazingly like this one, so please, accept that there are differences between Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 world, and this one, not that many, but enough to allow me to play a little with reality; suspend disbelief and see what you think...

As always, if you want to make a comment, please do; the relevant, sane, or funny ones get left in place, the scary-weird, outright insane, and the gratuitously nasty get deleted, because I'm allowed to...

I have no issues with comments about my technique, storyline or writing style, they all help me to sharpen my technique and delivery, so please, on-topic and within the bounds of physiological possibility...

Many thanks to MRiceman1964 for his editorial skills and grasp of reality, and for FMCSI for allowing me to drop him into my world so he could play with one of my pneumatically curvaceous girls.

Enjoy!

BB1958

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Olivia was fed-up, pissed-off, and totally let-down; her 21st birthday 'celebration' at The Ministry of Sound had degenerated into fending-off half-smashed creeps who just wanted to get her on the dance floor so they could grope her, try to kiss her, or rub their pathetic little stiffies against her.

Her two best friends had dragged her out to celebrate and take her mind off the fact that her big brother, Ryan was with his ship, in the middle of the Caribbean, chasing down drug-runners in the sapphire tropical waters of the West Indies, while she was stuck in London in November, an almost unutterably grim fate.

If that wasn't bad enough, they'd then proceeded to get-off with a pair of escapee's from the creep-zone, real prize-guys, and buggered off and left her sitting there like a gooseberry while they were off on the dance floor getting their tonsils sucked.

Ryan always came home on leave for her special days, her birthday and Christmas, and he made those days for her; he always had a birthday present that was exactly right, like he knew what she was thinking about or coveting most in the world, and he'd have it for her as a surprise for her birthday or as her gift on Christmas morning.

But this year was different; his ship, HMS Scudamore, a Type 23 frigate, was part of a joint initiative with the US Navy and US Coastguard Service, intercepting drug boats operating out of various Caribbean ports and secret coastal creeks and coves on the island groups that made up the Caribbean archipelago, and Ryan, in his new rank as a Lt. Commander, was Second in Command on his first long-term overseas posting.

She sat there daydreaming about him, with some justification, she grinned to herself. There was no escaping the fact; Ryan was gorgeous; all her friends thought so, all her work colleagues thought so, and Olivia thought so too. There was no attraction there, she was sure of that, but the fact that they were related didn't detract from the fact that, taken objectively, and without the 'sister' filter on, he was truly fucking gorgeous!

Ryan was tall, slightly over 6 feet, with just the right amount of muscle to fill out his shirts nicely without being ostentatious about it; the Royal Navy kept you fit; they had no time for, and no patience with, doughy specimens or flabby sailors; the first hint of a beer-belly got you PE until you were back in fighting trim. His hair was a beautiful dark copper, almost auburn, shot with gold threads, like their father, (and so unlike her jet-black tresses) coupled with dark smoky green eyes, brilliantly white, even teeth and his quick, shy smile, and pale skin that tanned easily, making him look wind-burned and nautical and interesting every time he came into port, the gold highlights threading his hair even more obvious after all that sea air and sunshine.

It was no wonder he melted her friend's hearts and loosened their thigh-muscles every time he walked into the room. Half the girls in their school had thrown themselves repeatedly at him, the other half had been too shy to be so obvious, so made his life miserable by writing him hot little damp-panty notes, which invariably got found, subjecting him to the ordeal of having to stand in class and read them out; when they weren't writing him embarrassingly explicit notes, they'd call the house, and if he picked-up, they'd gasp and hang up.

Because there was less than two years between them, there had never really been that big brother-little sister vibe between them; they were (usually) best of friends who did everything together, shared everything, and told each other things they'd never have shared with another person alive. When Olivia lost her virginity, the first person she'd told had been Ryan, ditto for him, and they'd compared notes, checked on techniques, and generally laughed about how it had come about, and the embarrassing and squishy aftermath.

When Olivia discovered that he was going into the Navy, like their father before him, and would be gone for four years, she'd erupted in outrage, and the ensuing arguments had soured their relationship right up to the point where he'd come home on his first leave, to find Olivia crying at the dockside, for all the world like one of the wives or girlfriends.

After that, they quickly re-established that bond that was all they had after their father had died in that stupid motorcycle accident, and Olivia never again gave him a hard time over his time away at sea, knowing that he'd always come back for her birthday and Christmas Day, the two most important days for her (she'd tried making a big deal out of his birthday, but Ryan didn't really like celebrating his birthday, so, after a couple of abortive attempts, she'd given up trying).

Her friends were still just as relentless in their attempts to get him to notice them, though, and Olivia was by turns amused, annoyed, angered, and consumed with jealousy at the attention he was getting from all these girls, her so-called friends; didn't those brainless tarts know that her big brother was, and always had been, her exclusive property? He seemed to have half the pretty girls in the western hemisphere chucking themselves at him, and all she seemed to be was a loser-magnet with a penchant for getting into relationships with the wrong guy, with a half-life of about 2 months, almost invariably imploding once that magic number was reached.

And yet she couldn't understand why; she had a great, in fact a superb, arse, two round, firm, tight globes of flesh that caused instant erections whenever she wore a bikini at the beach, firm, and protruding 34 C-cup breasts that shone in your face like lamps from afar, with nipples like a pair of fingertips, almost permanently erect, fat, firm, and ripe for sucking; everyone knew when Olivia was around, her body stood out like a moth on a cinema screen from all the other girls around, her slim waist and trim, rounded hips making her breasts seem larger than they were.

She was darker than Ryan, a legacy from their Welsh mother, with olive skin, dark smoky, green-hazel eyes, generous, up-curving dark coral lips, and wide, high cheekbones, finished-off with masses of raven tresses tumbled down her back like a midnight waterfall, the black almost blue in its intensity. She thought her face was too wide, but every man who'd ever checked her out thought the same thing; she looked sultry, mysterious, exotic and desirable.

So why did she always end-up with dead-beats, losers, idiots, and complete tossers, none of whom could hold a candle to her brother? She sighed as she contemplated the fact that Ryan was probably the perfect man for her, and yet denied to her forever by an accident of birth. Oh well, time to go home, another night at home alone, with a crappy film on TV and a microwave meal, and her plastic boyfriend for company.

She could have taken any man there home with her; they were practically making the dance floor slick with drool just staring at her in her party-girl/Ibiza Club-Slut micro-dress, but the choice of available men there ranged from 'You have got to be joking!' through 'Dream on, Dickhead!' to 'Oh ick, no, fuck off!'

If the current crop was anything to go by, it appeared to be glaringly true what the magazines said about straight London men; they were either completely feckless wankers, nice guys but taken, or alone and available for a very good reason...

Her girlfriends didn't even notice her leaving, their faces were busily being eaten by the two spotty specimens who'd zeroed-in on them and Olivia as they came into the club, and had captured her friends when she'd made it clear that it was never going to happen, with either of them, not even if she were dead.

Olivia arrived home in a foul mood; her birthday had been a complete bust. Without Ryan there it hadn't felt like her birthday, just another pointless Friday night clubbing, and she was torn between the desire to scream out her frustration, and cry with the loneliness of it, the tedium of her life, the job she hated, with bosses constantly eyeing her up, never quite crossing the line into harassment, but stripping her daily with their eyes, endless muted comments that weren't quite sexual innuendo, and girls who hated her because they thought she was sleeping with the bosses, bosses who passed her over for promotion because she wouldn't, and on top of it all, a milestone birthday that had failed to deliver in every single respect.

Olivia stripped-off her club dress, white lace thong and hold-ups, and turned the shower on, as hot as she could bear it, unpinning her hair and removing all her jewellery before stepping into the cubicle, letting the needle jets pummel and massage her as she slowly turned under it, relaxing and de-stressing as she did. Almost without conscious thought, her hands began slowly sliding over her body, the sensation as they glided over her flanks and belly pleasurable and comforting. Without conscious thought, her hands slid up her torso to cup and squeeze her breasts, her nipples standing up painfully as she brushed them, the tingle reaching all the way down inside her to her pussy which began an insistent, low-level throbbing, matching the suddenly amplified beat of her heart in her ears.

Now her hand slipped down lower, lower, until one finger slid and skittered along the crease of her labia, the lips suddenly soft and sensitive as she slid her fingers between the suddenly widening cleft, her pussy tingling as her arousal grew. Olivia closed her eyes as she squeezed and rubbed her nipples, the lover of her mind's eye making her hot and ready for what she needed most, building her toward that release.

Her questing fingers slowly slid across her distended clitoris, making her jump and hiss at the sharp zing of pleasure, then returned to slowly, slowly rub and tease at it, feeling the throb and cascade of pleasure as she rubbed more and more, her breath sobbing and hissing as she approached that place, the shadowy image of her lover suddenly revealing himself as Ryan, his lips on her nipples as his surging, muscular cock plunged into her.

Olivia screamed as she came, her pussy spasming as the fantasy Ryan pounded into her, dream-cock filling her and rolling her orgasm on and on, her pussy, her breasts, her entire body on fire as she sobbed and shuddered in the throes of her gigantic orgasm, her pussy pulsing in time to the thrusts of dream-Ryan's solid, muscular cock.

She slumped against the cool wall of the cubicle, gasping with the intensity of her release, thoroughly disgusted and appalled that she'd come so volcanically at the thought of her brother pounding his imagined cock into her, yet also wondering if this was what she'd been trying to tell herself for so long? The orgasm was real, there was no doubt about that! Perhaps the reason behind it was also...?

She shook her head to clear it, on impulse reaching out to flick the temperature switch to 'Low', and gasped as a spray of frigid water bathed her in chill, clearing her head and cooling her down after the overheated episode just past. She suffered the chill spray a few moments more as her head cleared, then flicked the switch back to 'Normal', luxuriating as the hot spray once more enveloped her, taking the edge off the chill.

She stepped out of the cubicle and draped a bath sheet around herself, wrapping another towel around her hair as she padded out of the bathroom into her bedroom. As she sat on the bed towelling her hair before blow-drying it, Olivia pondered on what had made her come so hard, like never before, in fact. She felt disgusted, unclean, somehow soiled, but if she was being completely honest with herself, she couldn't deny, she'd been hugely turned on by the thought; even now, much as she tried to deny it, the thought of Ryan, as she'd imagined him, pounding his cock into her, made her feel distinctly hot and bothered all over again.

Olivia resolutely put thoughts of Ryan from her head. He's your brother, for fuck's sake, what kind of sick bitch are you? she asked herself, throwing her towel across a chair as she dried her hair, letting the blast of hot air relax her and wind her down for sleep. Finished at last, she slipped on a pair of panties and an oversized tee-shirt, one of Ryan's, in fact, and slid between the covers, flicking off the lamp on the nightstand.

She came awake with a start, instantly awake and alert, lying on her back with her arms above her head, trying to work out what it was that woke her so completely. She tried to reach out to switch on the lamp, to discover her hands were immobilised, something soft and unyielding clamped about her wrists. At the same time she realised she had something about her head, a blindfold of some sort, and, yes, her legs were immobilised too, the same soft, unyielding restraints around her ankles. Olivia opened her mouth to scream, and a soft hand clamped down gently over her lips.

"Ssshhh, you're okay, you're not going to get hurt, trust me!" a barely audible whisper breathed in her ear.

Olivia tried to struggle, but, as she was almost totally immobilised, all she did was bounce a little on the mattress.

"Calm down, please, no-one's going to hurt you, I promise you!" hissed that barely audible whisper again, and, strangely, the sound of it did calm her. For some reason she believed whoever it was, so she lay still, waiting to see what came next.

She didn't have long to wait. The bed creaked as another body climbed onto it, she felt two hands take hold of the hem of her tee, and then, with a heave, tore it open up to the neck, exposing her breasts and suddenly stiff nipples. Now she heard the sound of scissors, and flinched as something cold touched her hip, then felt the pressure of her panties' waistband disappear. The same on the other hip; he was cutting her panties away!

Whoever it was took hold of the tattered panties and pulled them out from under her to leave her waxed mound unprotected, open to the night air. She could feel every current of air on her suddenly tender labia and throbbing nipples; she'd fantasised often enough about something like this, the fantasy inevitably becoming more detailed and involved as the years progressed, and now it was happening. Would it be anything like she hoped? All she knew was that whoever it was, she hoped he wouldn't be rough, or hurt her before he'd finished.

And now he was kissing her! The unknown man had soft, gentle lips, and he kissed her tenderly, almost lovingly, in a line from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her breasts, then under each breast in turn, his warm breath tantalising her nipples in turn, before slowly kissing and licking her nipples, her gasp loud in the night silence as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, rubbing the end with the flat of his tongue as his fingers teased and squeezed the other, the sensations shooting straight to her pussy and making it itch and crawl as her labia swelled and flowered open in arousal.

Still rubbing and squeezing her fat nipple, the man slowly kissed his way down her torso, Olivia squirming in delight as he ticked all her boxes, his tongue and lips delighting her in their slow, tantalising journey down her body. When his lips reached her navel, she squirmed and bucked as his tongue lashed around inside, exploring the recesses of her sexy jewel of a navel. Always before, anyone doing this would have had her in uncontrollable giggles as they found her most ticklish spot, but now, now it was hot and arousing. He continued down, kissing and gently lapping at her smoothly rounded stomach, until, with a gasp of pure ecstasy from her, his tongue-tip slid into the crease between her labia and lapped lightly at the hood of her throbbing clitoris.

He licked and lapped lightly, jolts of pleasure shooting through her at each stabbing lick of his tongue, light as it was, the pressure building as he licked and tasted her. Olivia was almost delirious with pleasure; whoever he was, he knew exactly how to please her, something none of her previous boyfriends had learned; she was always the trophy girlfriend, the 'look what I've got' girl for them to display to their friends, and their bedroom abilities were woefully lacking.

But this man, now, he knew exactly how to please a woman, how to tease and arouse her, and as he bored in, driving her into a frenzy of sexual abandon, she thrashed about on the bed, the restraints adding a new dimension to her sexual pleasure; unable to move or react physically, she was however free to experience every nuance of his tongue and lips on her, to draw the maximum sensation and pleasure from the tiniest touch or the slightest breath on her exposed vulva.

Her juices were running freely as she pushed her crotch as hard into his face as she could, and he accepted her offer, his tongue sliding inside her to lick and rub against her inner lips, something no other lover had ever tried or wanted to do.

She felt him shift his whole body so he was now lying between her splayed-open thighs, his hands holding her cheeks as he held her crotch up against his mouth, his tongue alternately probing inside her, and lapping long, flat licks from the tight, wrinkled little knot of her anus to her throbbing clitoris, driving her wild, her teeth clenched with the effort to not scream at him to fuck her, hard, make her come there and then!

He continued to lick and push his tongue inside her, the movements of his tongue inside her almost unbearably pleasurable, her orgasm building higher and higher, until she was almost out of her mind with the need for release, and when his pointed tongue tip finally pushed deep into her tight little anus as his fingers lightly caressed her clitoris, that was the last straw.

Olivia came with a strangled, guttural shriek, her pussy spasming and fluttering as she gave herself up to an orgasm like she'd never known before, her hips pounding the bed as her juices flooded out of her.

Her unknown lover moved over her, his body gradually lowering onto hers as his lips came into contact with her own, a tender, almost loving kiss brushing her lips, the taste of her own excitement mingled with sweet breath and a hint of something familiar. He licked the tip of her nose and whispered softly, almost inaudibly "My turn!"

Olivia felt the bed move again as he got up, and then the soft, subtle sounds of cloth rustling, and realised he was getting undressed. After a long moment, she started as a gentle finger lightly traced along her jawline and up to her chin, to lightly rub her bottom lip and slowly slip inside her mouth. Olivia sucked on the finger, feeling him slowly prising her jaws apart, before withdrawing the finger.