The big three-zero was very nearly upon me, much to my chagrin. When I was twenty, thirty seemed like a lifetime away. When I was twenty-five, thirty seemed like it was several decades away. Even when I turned twenty-nine, thirty still seemed rather far off into the future.
But, thirty was upon me. And as I awoke and gazed upon my wife, I realized that even though she was still twenty-nine, she also would soon be thirty, that she was also getting old.
Still very beautiful, but still getting old.
Suddenly, I felt even older.
*****
I worked a half-day on my thirtieth birthday, and that was only because I had an unavoidable meeting with the CEO that morning.
On returning home, I was surprised to see two cars in the driveway, parked bumper to bumper: my wife's red Corvette, and a brand-new baby blue Eclipse, with the dealer tag still in the lower-left rear window. The tracks in the snow appeared rather fresh, and when I pressed my hand against the hood of each vehicle, I felt a slight warmth permeating the glove. Clearly, Justine had a guest, but given that I had not seen a baby blue Eclipse before, I wondered which of our friends would have recently bought a new car.
My wife peered out the window as I walked from the garage to the front door, then greeted me as I stepped into the house. "Welcome home, Birthday Boy!" she said as she hugged me enthusiastically.
"I certainly don't feel like a boy," I replied honestly and a little wearily following the three-hour meeting and the long drive home.
"Well, your first birthday present is already waiting for you upstairs."
"Okay. By the way, whose Mitsubishi is that in the driveway? Who bought a car recently?"
My wife simply grinned, a glimmer of naughtiness in her eye. "Your present."
That stopped me in my tracks. "My 'present?'"
"Actually, her parents bought it for her. She's upstairs in the guest bedroom."
I was so dumbfounded by the fact that my present was a person - a "her," a "she" - that Justine had to physically help me out of my winter coat and push me toward the staircase. When I opened the door to the guest bedroom, I was so incredibly amazed that if my jaw did indeed ricochet off the floor, I did not feel it.
"She's all yours," my wife whispered, standing behind me. "Your fantasy awaits you. Happy birthday, sweetie."
"Wait. Where did...? How did you...?"
"She works at the small coffee shop near my office. She graduated high school a year early, spent the fall traveling, and now she's working part-time serving coffee to earn some money for when she goes to college. And, perhaps just as importantly, today just happens to be her eighteenth birthday! So go have some fun with your fantasy girl, with your birthday twin."
Justine simply kissed my cheek, quickly fondled my growing erection, and left, closing the door to the guest room behind her.
She was certainly small, perhaps only five feet tall... if wearing platform heels. With her tiny frame, her breasts seemed out of proportion, her nipples long and thick like tiny erections. Both pillows had been stacked underneath her head, her long lavender-dyed hair positioned to form a halo effect around her head. She wore no make-up, no jewelry, no clothing - nothing which might identify her other than the dyed hair and a prominent lengthy scar just below her right armpit.
She could not see, for my wife's favorite blindfold kept her in a world of darkness. Although she remained still upon the bed, for thick leather cuffs encased her ankles and her wrists, with the cuffs connected by thick heavy silver chains to bolts in the posts of the king-size bed. She could not hear, for she wore DJ-style headphones with a lengthy cord running through the slots in the headboard and along the wall to the dresser, where the white noise machine stood proudly, its green indicator light signaling that it was indeed performing its calming duty.
She was indeed my fantasy. I remembered the night of the honeymoon, when my newlywed wife had finally bared her body to me, just has she had bared her heart and her soul to me for so long. I remembered the lengthy foreplay as we slowly tore down the unspoken barriers which had prevented a truly complete joining up to that night. I remembered her soft cries in the curtain-filtered moonlight as I pleasured her first with fingers, then with lips. I remembered the expression of uncertainty battling with desire as I readied myself at her sacred portal, her low moan as I began to enter her body, her soft squeal of pain as I turned the girl I had long known and loved into a woman.
...into my woman.
Justine had once asked how we could have re-enacted that moment in my fantasy world if I could have had complete control over the situation. After a little thought, I had confessed that if I had known then what I had learned in the interim, I would have wanted her blindfolded, bound to the bed, and naked, completely vulnerable, completely on display for me when I entered her and made love to her for the very first time.
My fantasy was upon the bed: blindfolded, bound to the bed, and naked, completely vulnerable, completely on display for me when I would enter her for the very first time.
But while my fantasy lay before me, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in the guest bedroom with her, I was torn. It appeared that my wife truly wanted me to enjoy this most unexpected birthday gift, yet from the way I had been raised, I could not envision myself enjoying the charms of any other woman.
Slowly, I paced the guest bedroom, my mind ablaze with thought, considering the consequences and the pleasures of going forward and indulging - quite literally - in my fantasy. My eyes kept returning to her, admiring her graceful curves, her apparent youth, her calm composure...
My birthday twin was almost completely still upon the bed, making no movement whatsoever other than the gentle rise and fall of her breasts and the occasional flexing of her arms and legs to maintain circulation. It would have been nice if she would have at least struggled for me, just like Justine would struggle for me whether I was whipping her or not.
Interestingly, my wife had not set out any of the floggers or the cane or the crops or the slappers or any of the other implements for granting pain, nor had she set out any of the bullets or vibrators or dildos or beads or other tools for granting pleasure. Certainly, I knew where all those items were hidden, kept well away from prying eyes should someone come for an unexpected visit, but since they were not in plain sight, likely I was not intended to hurt her - I was to keep my sadistic side at bay and only allow my romantic side to grace this young, willing stranger.
...nor was I to pleasure her with anything not already physically attached to me.
Yet, if she was truly my fantasy become reality, I would hurt her unavoidably as - fittingly, on her eighteenth birthday - I would be transforming her from a girl into a woman.