The Dame's Birthday

For those of you who know me, the thought of owning a pet is forever overruled by the idea of white sofas and glossy lamented flooring. This and a minute fear of beasts.

For this reason, The Dame’s dogs, as docile and friendly as they are, are always in the corner of my eyes.

Last Saturday The Dame held a BBQ to which I was invited, together with Common Julie, The Art Teacher, Brownie and Mystic Meg. A fantastic day all in all. Of course, I had no idea that I’d end up sleeping (literally) with The Dame, Common Julie, who snores the way an Alsatian on heat might, and one of The Dame’s dogs. And then, let’s not forget waking up to two other dogs sniffing me the way they might a piece of meat/apple strudel.

I’ve always been aware that dog’s can smell fear and I spent much of that morning telling myself that I was going to be ok. Why can’t people just stick to the Andrex puppy I wonder?

‘Ooh, look, you’re mummy’s little precious aren’t you?’ crooned The Dame more than once. And that’s when I gave her that look that says ‘What a strange thing you are’. I suppose one must learn to understand that to certain people, dogs mean more than humans.

Rewind…

The Dame hired out a couple of Sumo suits which, let it be said, I was quick to don. If you’ve ever seen me, you might be forgiven for thinking the idea of wearing a sumo suit wouldn’t cross my mind. Or at least, that pouncing on a Dame would be a far dream. But, I’ll say, once I’m heated up, the welly I’m able to give would put those who appear ‘fitter’ to shame. I may be slender, but that internal resource is always there.

After we pounded on each other with these on and took an awful lot of photos, which, as expected, are now firmly on Facebook, Common Julie and I enacted a scene which allowed The Dame to show us precisely what her occupation requires of her. Whether she’s crap at her job, or whether her ability to follow instructions is limited I am as yet unaware, but it took her an awfully long time to grasp the idea of our drug smuggle. Of course, once she had, she had me on the floor, the way she’d wanted to for years.

I have a personal lust for the place where The Dame lives. It’s a breath of fresh air and manure from the old city. And the music we could have as loud as we wanted.

A special thanks to The Dame’s grandmother for undertaking a commission for a lemon meringue pie. Utterly delicious.

The day was incredibly successful, and we were even introduced to the spiritual world by Mystic Meg. This is something that requires a full entry once I have a conclusion drawn. Let’s just say, Mystic Meg seems to have rattled The Dame into action with her clairvoyant/weird capacity.
Another year older, another inch lost on the tit, another wrinkle making its humble way up the fanny, The Dame need action before the clitoris comes off in the shower. With this in mind, it’s now my aim to get her an orgasm.

Happy Birthday.