Unwrapping
Photo courtesy of Declan McCullagh Photography
What is the best Christmas present that you ever received? Is it possible to give a definitive answer when, in all likelihood, the answer changes over the years as you yourself change? As a child, it would have been some favourite toy–a doll, a bicycle, some Star Wars figures; as an adult, perhaps something with that personal touch that showed how well that somebody knew you and how much they cared about you–maybe that time your lover came into the room wearing nothing but a Christmas ribbon and asked if you were ready to unwrap your present?
Sometimes Christmas comes early. Sometimes it comes in the form of an e-mail from Miss Valentine Capone that appears unexpectedly in your inbox and says: “Just follow this link to my photos.”
A single, nervous mouse-click later, tremulous with anticipation and your heart and pulse racing, you are alone together in her bedroom, struggling to remind yourself that the sparkling, intelligent eyes and the gleaming, mischievous smile are directed towards some other fortunate man and that you are simply a shameful voyeur taking guilty pleasure from the expression of somebody else’s love.
How can you resist? She is naked, yet not vulnerable in the slightest because not only is she beautiful and sexually desireable, but she is also clearly in complete control and enjoying herself, as though she understands precisely the feelings she elicits as you gaze, awestruck, upon her nakedness.
Her skin is as pale and flawless as a fresh fall of snow, yet at the same time you can almost feel the warmth of her body as if it were held in your embrace. And how you wish that it could be so.
Her round breasts like two Christmas puddings, moist and rich and succulent; ready to be dowsed in fine brandy and covered with warm custard then devoured like the opulent sweetmeats that they are.
Her feet so small and childlike that only a pixie could balance on them. Surely it is better if she lies down while you suck and nibble on her tiny pink toes as though they were cocktail sausages, appetisers for the feast yet to come?
“Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.” Words first written to describe the unattainable beauty of Snow White, but which are serendipitously precise when attempting to depict the intoxicating Miss Capone. However, when all is said and done, Snow White is nothing more than a fairy tale or a cartoon–Val Capone is a woman, a real woman imbued with all of the power and love that only a woman is capable of. Can it be that men go weak at then knees when they encounter such a woman because deep down inside some ancient instinct tells us that we should fall to our knees and worship her as the goddess that she surely is?
Christmas is also a time for nostalgia. For example, I can remember a simpler time when a man could masturbate without the aid of a computer…
Shandy Owl flatters women who get naked on the internet. He resides in the UK, with a vast collection of fuzzy socks.
