Elf on a Shelf: Part 2 Life in hob-along mode. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When she woke the next morning, Zach was standing next to the bed with a pain pill and a glass of water. "Terry's gonna be here in about half an hour. I could make you some breakfast?" he said, putting the pill and the water into her hand. Honey shook her head, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'd; I'd like to take a shower before I go; if that's okay," she asked. "Right; uh; I'll just set it up for you. I'll get your things together after you're done in there; if you still want to go, that is; Honey closed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to look at the silent pleading in his face. When the shower was ready, Zach carried her down the stairs and set her down in his large walk-in shower on the bathing chair he'd set up for her. "I, uh; I warmed up the water. The; soap and shampoo stuff is right here," he said, gesturing to a collection of bottles put down within her reach. "If you need anything, I'll be right; right here," he said, sitting down on the toilet, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Honey nodded and took off her nightgown and panties, putting them on the floor outside the shower. She leaned down and began unwrapping the velcro the straps on her boot, finding that she couldn't reach the last one. She opened her mouth to ask for help, but Zach was already sliding the door open to undo it for her. When he disassembled the boot around her foot and lifted it away, a slight whimper escaped her when the motion bumped her ankle slightly. Zach's eyes flashed to hers as she tried to cover herself with her arms, "I'm okay," she whispered. Clenching his jaw, Zach nodded, stood and left the stall. The water felt like heaven after the sad sponge baths she had given herself in bed. Her skin came alive in the heat and flushed a deep pink. "Is that too hot? You're getting red," Zach said, standing next to the door looking concerned. "No; it's perfect," she sighed. She twisted around to reach the shampoo and tipped it over, groaning as she watched it roll out of reach. Zach reached into the stall and returned it to her, growling in annoyance as he watched her try to squeeze some out with only one fully functional arm. Soon, he stepped into the shower with her, clad only in his underwear. "I don't know how you think you're going to do this by yourself; he grumbled, glaring at her as he massaged the shampoo into her long hair. "I'll figure it out; put a folding chair in the tub or something," she said, trying not to notice that the fabric of his underwear was leaving nothing to the imagination the wetter it got. "A fucking folding chair will slip. I'll send this one with you. You still can't reach shit, though." "I haven't done this before. I'll get better as I go." "Yeah, but until then, you'll; Look, you need to give me a call when you; so that I know you're okay." "You wouldn't be able to hear me talk; the water makes this growling noise," she said. "Well, why the fu; never mind. You call me before and after. No longer than 10 minutes, or I send Terry." "And he just does whatever you tell him? You're really kinda bossy." "Glad we sorted that out. Put your head back." With a smirk, Honey leaned back, letting him support her with his arm as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. After one minute, Zach began swearing under his breath. "I've been rinsing this shit out of your hair forever and there's still more! How the fuck is this possible?" Honey began giggling, despite the pain it caused her shoulder. "I guess you should allow me longer than 10 minutes to shower, then; she murmured. "Ten fucking minutes, or I send Terry." "Do you have any conditioner?" "Any what?" "Never mind," Honey said, trying to control her face. When he finally released her from being rinsed, Honey grabbed the loofa and put some body wash on it, washing what she could reach with her right arm while Zach glared down at her. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grated, roughly taking the fluffy sponge from her and then washing her with surprising gentleness. When he delicately supported and washed her broken ankle, he waited until he finished before looking up at her, "Remember, doctor says you can take off your boot for a while now and then, so that should help with the smell. I'll pack the extra sock so you can put a clean one on and wash the; well, just how the fuck are you going to do the laundry?" he asked, as if she created the concept of dirty laundry just to bother him. "Hand wash?" she suggested. "That won't work for these boot socks! They smell like gangrene or some shi;" "Well, now you're just flirting; she said, smiling up at him. For a moment Zach's face went completely blank, his eyes slowly traveling down her naked body as his face turned bright red, then he turned away and cursed under his breath again. "Grab onto my arm and I'll finish you up," he said, clenching his jaw and holding out his forearm to her, as he diligently looked away. Cautiously, she took his arm and tried to stand, rising wobbly on her left leg. Before she could gain her balance, her hand slipped on his wet arm and he pulled her tightly against him before she could fall. Body to body, they clung on to each other in the hot spray, each of them shaking. "Honey; you may notta noticed, but I'm hanging on by a fucking thread, here," Zach said quietly in her ear, "Try not to get yourself killed for two seconds." Honey nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist so that he could move his arms again. She felt him move the loofah between her legs and begin washing her private area, looking around the shower stall as he did. When Honey cringed and her breath hissed between her teeth, he stopped, "What's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her face. "It's; rough; she said, quietly. "Yeah, but it was fine when; oh; right; sensitive. Okay; he said, swallowing as he tossed the loofah aside and hesitantly reached his fingers between her legs. Honey leaned her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes, gasping when his fingers made contact. "Is that; is that okay?" he asked. She nodded and tried to move her legs further apart for him. Zach gently washed her, trying to think of sports scores, laxative commercials, or the accounts payable at the club, but inevitably his cock noticed that he was holding the woman of his dreams naked in his arms. When she shifted against him, trying to keep her balance, a breathy grunt escaped him as she inadvertently rubbed against him. "I'm sorry; she whispered, trying to give him more room. "Don't be; you're perfect; it's fine; he said, trying to think about anything but how it would feel to slide his cock between her slippery lips right at that moment. "Let me just get the; water; he gritted, reaching for the shower sprayer and directing it between her legs. Honey gasped and whimpered as the water pulsed against her clit, down her labia and over her anus again and again, feeling Zach's eyes on her as he did it, intensely absorbing her every reaction. She trembled as she held on to him, trying to remain calm. Finally, she raised her eyes up to him and opened her wet lips and whispered, "Zach; ?" "Hey, how do you guys want your eggs?" Terry asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Get The Fuck Out Of Here, Maggot!" Zach roared, as Honey squealed and released him, quickly ducking down to where Terry couldn't see her on the shower chair. "Scrambled, it is," Terry said, ducking out of the bathroom and leaving them alone again. Zach watched Honey begin to shiver as the room cooled off and handed her a towel. "Let me know when you're dry and I'll wrap up your leg again," he said, looking around the bathroom uncomfortably before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off his wet underwear from underneath. After securing her ankle in the air cast, Zach carried her back up to the bedroom, turned his back to her, and blocked Terry's kitchen view of the loft as Honey dressed. When she finished, Zach turned around again, his mouth hardening into a grim line when he saw she had put on her elf dress again. "You're; going, then," he said, frowning as he watched her wince at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to tie the thick red ribbon belt behind her back. He stepped behind her and took the belt out of her hands and began brusquely tying it. "I want you to stay," he said to the back of her head, tugging the loops into a tight knot. Honey hobbled around to face him, "Enough to tell me why you wanted to send that message to someone?" she asked him, her dark blue eyes somber. "You; you wouldn't want to stay if I did," he murmured, stroking the soft velvet covering her arms. "Then, I guess I should go," she said, looking away before she could start crying again. "Wow, nice apartment!" Terry said, following Honey inside her apartment with the bag of her clothes. "The blood stains really bring the room together; "Say what you will, it's all mine," she said, hobbling over to the sofa and curling up, exhausted. "Here's your mail. I gotta text Zach, he's going nuts; well, more than usual, anyway," he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. "Arrived at hellhole; Angel has typhoid; the tweakers give their love; send food stamps," he said aloud, typing into his phone as Honey went through her mail. "Let me go set up the bath chair; just the thing to class up the joint," he said, disappearing to the bathroom. When Terry returned, he found Honey white as a sheet, reading a letter. "Whoa, kid; you okay? Need a pain pill? Let me take you back to Zach's. You look like you really do have typhoid; he said, kneeling down next to her. "Um; yeah, I'm fine," she said faintly, then cleared her throat. "Would; would you mind taking that laptop with you when you go deliver the charity gifts to the firm? They; asked me to send it back; probably upgrading; she said, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks. Terry watched her for a long moment, his face grim, and don't mention it to Zach?" he finished. "Um; probably not?" Honey choked. "Ah, Honey; you have hospital bills. This is where a sensible person starts telling themself, 'Hey self, maybe I should go back to that really great guy that wants to take care of me," Terry said, closing her laptop and wrapping the power cord around it. "If he's such a great guy, why does he send people messages like this?" she asked, holding up the screenshot to him. After staring at the screen for a while, Terry let out a low whistle, "Now, see, Zach just puts it right out there. You gotta respect that. No wonder he got so much ass. He send this to you?" "He said he meant to send it to someone else, but what are you talking about? He sent this to me on our first date when he went to the restroom! I thought he wanted to kill me!" Terry canted his head and looked at the screenshot again, "Oh; yeah, I could see that. Especially if you got it without the dick pic," he said, nodding sympathetically. "No, see, this was sort of a sex S O S, if you will. A guy goes out with a girl like you, it's like a high-wire act. He gets all wound up, needs to blow off some steam, sends out a flare hoping someone can help him take the edge off things so you don't find out what a high-strung, rough sex freak he is. You're a big deal. He just didn't want to scare you off, Angel," Terry explained. "He; he wanted to go have sex with someone else after our date??" Honey yelled, incensed. "Only because he *liked* you so much!" Terry argued, winsomely. Just then, Honey's phone rang in his hand and he tapped the screen, "Honey's phone!" he answered. "Don't Ever Talk To Me Again!" Honey yelled at her phone when she saw it was Zach's number. "Ah yeah?" Terry said, holding the phone to his ear. "Yeah. Right. Be right over," he said, disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Honey. "What did he say?" Honey asked, grinding her teeth. Terry leaned over and flipped her phone back to the screenshot that had frightened her so much, "Yeah; pretty much that; just without the sex. See you when I get out of the hospital, kid," he sighed. During the next week, Honey took a bus to the city hall offices and applied for unemployment, used the library computers to send out her resume and read her email, and got no calls whatsoever from Zach. Gatsby's, however, started having trouble with their delivery service and three meals a day were accidentally delivered to her disreputable apartment. When she called Gatsby's about it, she was assured they were working on it and were sure to fix the delivery service problem; as soon as they got a delivery service. The following week, Honey got a knock at her door. Promising herself she would open the door only for the pleasure of slamming it shut in the visitor's stupid, handsome face, Honey hobbled up and looked through the peep hole. It wasn't who she expected, though. "Um, hi; she said, opening the door a bit and tightening her robe. "Hi Honey, I'm Jeff. You probably don't remember;" "I remember you," Honey said, opening the door wider. "Please come in." "Thank you," he said, coming in and standing with his coat over his arm as she hobbled back to the couch. "Jeff, I always wanted to call Gatsby's and thank you; you know, for what you did," Honey said. "For the 'angel shot.' I didn't realize I was on a date with the owner, at the time. I hope it didn't make trouble for you," she said. "You're kidding, right? He fired me on the spot," Jeff laughed. "Oh no; she said, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry." "No, it's okay. He hired me back as a manager a couple weeks ago. Said anyone who had the balls to do what it took to protect you, even from him, that was someone he wanted taking care of his customers. Actually said that, looking back, if you had been scared enough to ask someone for help back then and they *didn't* help you, well, he'd probably want to go find them and; and; well, the details don't matter, and they're probably illegal, anyway. The point is, we're good." "Oh, that's; that's good to hear. Is this about the delivery service problem, then?" "We don't have a delivery service." "Well, yeah, I know. I mean the meals that Zach is making you send me." "Um; I'm probably going to get my life threatened for telling you this, but we're not sending you meals. Zach's popping in and out with a lot of takeout boxes under his arm, but Gatsby's isn't sending you any meals, Honey. That's; that's all Zach." "Oh; Honey said, her cheeks warming. "Yeah, no I came to ask if you'd be interested in a job." Honey laughed, "I appreciate it, but don't think I'd make much of a waitress right now." "Actually, I kinda had something else in mind; Honey's heart pounded as the music swelled and she felt the platform descend, her legs dangling down clad in candy cane striped stockings and curled-toe shoes. Her dress was the same pink velvet and white fur trim costume as before, but the fabric was far more luscious and expensive than the dress she'd worn in the mall. It had arrived at her door with a seamstress tasked with making it fit flawlessly. Honey's eyes were closed out of habit, getting ready to sing for the clientele of the great room as Gatsby's "Elf on a Shelf." She knew he was out there. He always came out of hiding when she sang. A smile curled across her face as she felt the spotlight warm her body. She opened her eyes. After the show, Honey stripped off her tights and a stage hand gave her the air cast as soon as the platform had risen out of sight. Gingerly, she eased her leg back into the boot and began strapping herself in again. As she reached the last fastener, two large hands took the straps out of hers and began wrapping them expertly. Honey blushed and looked aside as Zach did it, and tried not to roll her eyes when he checked the other two straps to be sure she had secured them properly. His eyes wandered over her with nervous adoration, like he still couldn't quite convince himself she was real; even after the mundane work of feeding her, dressing her, and cleaning her all those days up in his loft. "Did you like the show?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. Zach sighed with relief, having received tacit permission to speak to her again. "Yes," he said. "Did you really like it?" she asked, her eyes twinkling, her smile growing bigger. "I really; really liked it," Zach said, nodding and pulling at the collar of the dress shirt that was having trouble containing him. He seemed to have only grown larger in their weeks apart. "So much that you want to go have rough sex with somebody else tonight?" she asked, her large and deceptively innocent, twinkling eyes skewering him. Zach's mouth set, "I; I don't do that anymore. I exercise," he said quietly, reddening and looking away from her. "Oh; I see," Honey said, nodding. Ignoring the hands he offered her, Honey rolled herself onto her good knee and clumsily pushed herself back up into a standing position, her skirt flashing him as she rose. "What the fuck is that?" Zach yelled, pulling her skirt up to where a large purpling bruise was blooming on her hip. Honey bit her lips and forced her face to stop grinning before she turned and faced him again. "What's what?" she asked innocently. "What the hell do you think? That fucking huge purple ass-shiner you're walking around with! Where the fuck did that come from?" he roared. "Oh, that? I slipped. You know, it's icy out there; she said brightly, patting his chest and hobbling past him to her dressing room. Zach clenched his hands and followed her, growling things under his breath that would make a sailor blush. She wobbled into the dressing room, leaving the door open behind her, wondering if he would follow her in. He didn't, but instead stood there in the doorway glowering at her like a gargoyle as she pulled some clothes out of a large Gatsby's takeout bag. Honey's ribs were beginning to hurt from trying not to laugh. Honey breath hissed through her teeth as she reached behind her, fumbling with the knot of her wide red ribbon belt, her shoulder still healing from the dislocation. Before long, she heard muttered curses and large feet stomp into the room and push her hands aside, untying the belt for her. She smiled her thanks up at him over her shoulder, and moved her hair aside so he could help her with the zipper. Carefully, he smoothed some more of her hairs aside and slowly lowered the clasp. "So, um; how would it have worked?" she asked quietly, the softness of her voice making him lean in to hear her. Zach cleared his throat, "How would what have worked?" he asked, his breath falling warm on her neck as he tried to unclasp the tiny hook at top of the dress with his large fingers. "If we'd gotten together that night; if I'd never got that message," she said. Zach closed his eyes and shook his head. "I would've taken you home. Maybe tried for a kiss at your door, if you looked like you wanted it," he said, his voice hoarse. "Cheek or lips?" she asked. He sighed, "Who am I kidding? I would've passed out from not breathing by the time I got that close." "And those; other things; would you have wanted to do those things to me? To hurt me; to scare me?" she asked, her voice shaking. Zach turned her to look her in the eye, and she wrapped her arms around herself, keeping the unzipped, loose elf dress from falling down. "No Honey," he swore, shaking his head emphatically, cupping her face and holding her tightly. "God no. Never. Never ever. I would've never let you see that side of me. I'd give it up. I gave it up. I'd go run ten miles before I even;" his impassioned vows were interrupted by a loud crack as a delicate hand slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" Honey said, trembling with fury before she winced and cradled her hand to her chest as Zach blinked slowly in disbelief, trying to process what had happened. "That's for deciding you'd just have a boring, unsatisfied sex life with me without even asking what I wanted, you; you overbearing ass! That's for offering only a part of yourself to me! That's for ruining our beautiful date because you were ashamed of the man I lo;" Honey's uncharacteristic rage was interrupted by Zach's mouth descending on hers and claiming it furiously, pressing her against the wall as her dress fell to the floor. The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began, and Zach pulled away from her, his face a twitching, terrifying storm as he stared down at her. He wrapped his hand around the slender wrist of her only functional arm and pressed it to the wall over her head. "You don't hit me like that; ever," he said quietly, breathing hard through flared nostrils. Honey trembled, staring up into his blazing eyes almost panting against him in terror; but also in something else. The corner of Zach's mouth curled when he saw her deep blue eyes dilate hugely, a heady, familiar scent rising up between them. "You don't fucking hit anyone like that; goddamn amateur. You wanna break your wrist? Jesus Christ. Get your ass dressed and I'll take you home, you little freak," he growled, turning around to give her privacy and hide the huge smile he couldn't stop from covering his face. When Honey came up panting for air, she was pressed against the wall of Zach's loft as he fumbled with the locks of his door with one hand. She was making good progress at getting his shirt off, but it kept bunching up around his arms, and the cuffs were still a problem she didn't even want to think about. Even so, she was blissfully occupied with the acres of warm bare skin and muscle that she had excavated. "This isn't my home; she said, looking around bewildered, "why does everyone get my address wrong?" "Probably because they've blocked it out after seeing your place. Shut up and tell me what you want," Zach said, carrying her over to the stairs until he saw a bit of her lower lip he needed to bite and had to take a break to do it properly. "Look, don't give me names, because then I'd have to kill 'em, but tell me what makes you hot, Honey; we're gonna do all of it and more. I'm making your dreams come true, tonight," he said, winding his hand in her hair as she dropped her head back to give him her neck. "Oh! Um; I liked it when;" "No names," he reminded her, covering her mouth. "Right; well, this one guy, he um; he wore a towel around his waist and bent over his dresser to look for his underwear? And this other time, he held this spoon out to me and I opened my mouth and he fed me. And; and; um; in the shower, he; he held me against him in the water and;" "Honey, are all these stories gonna be about me?" "Um; yeah?" "That's sweet of you, tryin' to keep me outta jail and all, but I need you to get to the part about cock and pussy. Stories about me aren't gonna help that. Cock, pussy, tongue, ass, tits, ears, neck, taint - what do you like?" he asked "Right; uh; I liked it when you washed me down there; my pussy; with your fingers?" Honey said, at a loss. Zach drew his head back from her neck and looked at her, his face growing uneasy. "Honey?" "And when you sprayed the water back and forth down there, especially the top bump part, that really made me feel amazing, kind of squirmy, you know?" "Oh Jesus; he said, looking as if he'd been hit in the head. "And um; I know I wasn't supposed to look, but your um; you know; p-penis; in the shower, when your underwear got wet? That was" "I don't feel so good; he said, lowering himself to the floor and sitting down on the stairs. "No, no, it's fine. We can do this. What's a taint and what do I do with it?" she asked, sitting down and cuddling up next to him. Zach held his head in his hands, "You're a virgin; not like an "everything but" Evangelical, but like an alien or something. I don't know if I can do this." "Look, I know how to have sex; I had health class, for Pete's sake!" she said, slapping his shoulder. "What the fuck did I just get myself into?" he said through his hands. Honey pulled his hands down from his face and climbed up in his lap, putting his arms around her and looping her arms around his neck. "Zach; I have been a very good girl; not just this year, but for a long, long time. I figure that makes it so I can ask for something really big. So, here's what I want: I want you and me; just being together. Not planned or rehearsed or trying to be impressive. You already impress me. You're the best person I know. You took care of me when you hated me. You took care of me, even when I hated you. I just want to see what it's like if we let go of all that and just; you know; love. Will you give me that for Christmas, Santa? Please?" she asked, leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. "I've; never done that before," he said stiffly, looking sideways at her, unable to turn his head. "I'll be gentle with you," she whispered, smiling and brushing her lips against his. Climbing down from his lap, she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs; until he lost patience with her hobbling and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the top. Honey smiled as he gently lowered her feet to the floor, then took his hand and worked on the buttons of his cuff, "You're really big, but you don't do that big guy thing where you act like nothing matters. You notice everything; I like that," she said, glancing up at him. Zach frowned, watching her and then looking around the room, uncomfortable. "That's just; you gotta do that. You can't just throw your weight around without knowing where it's going. You're gonna hurt someone that way," he demurred, unbuttoning the cuff for her and tugging the other loose, as well. "You give a lot, but you're not a show-off about it; you didn't even let me know it wasn't Gatsby's sending food to me," she said, pulling his shirt down off his shoulders, pressing her face into his back to smell him. "You needed protein, calcium, and vitamin D to build those bones again -- that ramen shit you eat wasn't gonna give you enough of anything; just empty carbs and fuckin' sodium," he argued, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at her. Honey smiled and nodded, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling it out of the loops. Zach swallowed, "You; you also needed vitamins C and K, so I made sure you got things like broccoli and fish and citrus; not; not everybody knows that," he said, drawing a shaky breath. "I didn't know that," she said, separating the hook and eye of his trousers and unzipping them, smiling when he cleared his throat and breathed faster as she lowered them. "You're smart, but you don't need everyone to know about it. You watch how people treat you when they think you're simple, instead; you want to know who they really are." Zach pulled his legs out of his trousers and laid them carefully over the chair, glancing over to the closet where he really wanted to put them instead. Honey smirked and turned to go get a hanger for him, and he swept her down onto the bed instead, going to get the hanger for himself and carefully hanging his pants to avoid any creases. Zach returned to the bed, standing in front of her knees where she sat, waiting. Honey moved her hands curiously over his hips and thighs, feeling the strength, the hours of toil and exertion he put them through; so that he could have control and be gentle when he needed to be. "You care about what I want; she said, swallowing and slowly sliding his underwear down his hips, gasping in surprise when his cock bounced out and waved at her. "You care about it even when you think I'm wrong; and it makes me love you so much; she said, trailing off and blushing. "You; got my clothes off," he said, looking down at her, his face a mix of bewilderment and wonder. "I guess you see all of me, now," he said, blushing for the first time since she'd known him. Smiling, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. She winced, reaching back trying to un-do her bra, and instead of helping her as usual, Zach narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. "You do that on purpose, don't you? Doing shit that hurts right in front of me instead of asking me for help. Showing off that fucking bruise to me at the club. Showing me what happens when I can't take care of you; you actually get off on driving me crazy," he said in outraged realization. "You really want to do that rough sex stuff on me, now, don't you," Honey said, her eyes alive with mischief. "Like you wouldn't believe; he said, flipping her over, straddling her back and unclasping her bra. Honey squealed and giggled when he laid himself out over her back, careful to avoid her shoulder and ankle. "You feel that cock, all hard and ready on your panties and between your legs down there? You don't get him now, brat," he growled, pushing her hair aside and biting the back of her neck. "Not until you beg me." "Okay! Please?" she asked, giggling. Zach looked over at her, trying to hold a stern face, "Yeah, that's not how this works. The way this works is, I make you want it so much that you think you're going out of your mind, and *then* you beg me." "Okay!" she chirped. "Oh, fucking hell; he grumbled, trying not to laugh. He nipped all over her back, enjoying her squeaks and gasps, wiggling under him as her need grew. She seemed completely unaware of how she was responding to him, but he proudly basked in her every flutter. He kissed down to the small of her back, hearing her breath stop and then resume at a pant when he began to lower her panties. "Zach; Zach; Honey whimpered. "Yes, Honey?" he smiled, kissing the top of the crease of her bottom, flicking it slightly with his tongue. "Does it; does it always go this slow?" she asked, raising her bottom to him and moaning when he slid his fingers through her crack, making her jump and then grab onto his thigh. "Are you in a hurry?" he murmured, stroking his fingers leisurely around her clit and into her vagina, "Some other pressing; engagement?" he asked, pressing his finger against her hymen and laughing evilly at her shocked, yet needful, reaction. "Yeah; it would feel good to have a hot deep cock in there, wouldn't it?" he asked, thrusting gently into her with his finger. "Zach; Honey moaned, squirming under him. "I like that word 'engagement; '" Zach mused idly, "don't you?" he asked, raising one of her knees up to her side, sliding his cock along her crack, wetting it until it glistened in her juices. "Zach, please; please; please; she gasped, feeling him rise up over her again, pressing against her entry, "I need you; she whispered. "I need you, too, Honey. I've needed you for so long; he answered, parting her lips and moving into her with slow, gentle thrusts. Honey trembled under him, holding her breath, feeling him fill her more and more, until with a slight sharp pain, she took him into her. "Oh; oh; oh; oh; she whimpered. "Just breathe, Honey. You're doing great; perfect. I'm not moving till you're ready," Zach said, reaching deep for control. A sheen of sweat broke over him at the sheer effort of holding himself back from plunging furiously into her body again and again and again. "Is; is this the rough sex part?" she breathed, reaching out to touch the hand he was using to keep most of his weight off her. Zach barked out a breathless laugh, clasping her hand in his, "I don't know about you, but this is about as rough as I can take it, tonight. You're fucking killing me, right now. But, being inside you; it's like magic." Honey moved her head and kissed his forearm, "Be inside me again, Zach; she whispered. With a low sigh, he began moving inside her, his hips pressing and rolling against her, his cock stroking a patient rhythm. She sighed with happiness, feeling him explore and claim her at the same time. His lips moved over her neck and back as he leisurely took her, whispering praise and encouragements, waiting for her to adjust to him. Before long, though, his words stopped, his body growing harder around her, his every muscle stiffening as he gripped her hand harder, his thrusts quickening until, with a soft, surprised grunt, he thrust deep and shook as he emptied himself inside her. With explosive breaths, he rolled off her, pulling her against him in the bed. "Well, fuck; he said in disgust between gasps. "Yeah; Honey said, snuggling back against him happily, "that was perfect; Zach snorted, "No it wasn't, you noob. You didn't come. I fucked it up." "What do you mean? What makes you think I didn't come? That felt great! Let's do that all the time," Honey said, turning in his arms so she could smile at him. "I would've felt it if you came, Honey; it gets tight and squeezes you, almost like it's sucking on you; drinking you down; he said, smiling down at her with rueful affection. "Well, I don't know how it's supposed to get any tighter than that was. I think you're expecting too much of me. Maybe I did come; she argued. "Honey, trust me; when I make you come, you'll know about it," he said, reaching down and caressing her clit with his fingers. "Oh, that's nice; you did that in the shower," Honey cooed, moving her boot up over his hips so he could reach her more easily. "I didn't fucking do this to you in the shower. I fucking washed you. I was a fucking gentleman. People cut diamonds with less fucking focus than I had in that fucking shower. I was just taking care of business, then," he grumbled, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. "I guess; I guess, I took advantage of you, then; s-sorry; oh; she said, raising her hips to him as her breathing became irregular, her head tossing from side to side. "Well, unless I'm wrong, you are about to really pay for it in 3, 2, 1" Zach said, when Honey screamed high and long, her hips bucking as she came hard, covering his hand in her sweet nectar and then bursting into tears. Zach held her close as Honey wailed in pain, stroking her body gently, "Yeah; see, that boot can do a lot, but it can't do squat about it when every muscle in your body wants to stiffen up as you come," he said, still soothing her. Honey slapped his shoulder, "That; that was mean! Don't you ever make me come again!" she panted against him, her face still twisted in slowly receding pain. "Uh huh; Zach said, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "we'll see how long that lasts, you little freak," he said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss her tears away.  To be continued in part 3, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3 How did we ever get here? Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. "When I was fourteen, Mr. Johnson introduced me to a friend of his, Henry White, who was a master plumber. Henry was a high-functioning alcoholic whose temper had driven away all his old apprentices and journeymen. Luckily, I was always big for my age, and Mr. Johnson assured Henry that I was seventeen, turning eighteen in the next few months, so he took me on with the promise to make me an apprentice as soon as I was old enough. By the time that Henry learned my actual age, he had come to rely on me so much that he kept me on." "But what about school? Don't you need a high school diploma to become an apprentice?" "One good thing about growing up in a small town is that most people know the score. I made it to school when I could, and Henry and I worked a lot on the weekends, while Alison watched the rest of my siblings. Most of my teachers let me through with C's and D's, even though I must have missed half of my classes. Everyone knew that I was working with Henry and that I would need my high school diploma to become an apprentice, so they just kind of let me slip through. "I had well over 6,000 hours of experience plumbing before I even turned 18 and could formally become an apprentice. By that point, Henry was a significantly less functional alcoholic, and I was doing everything for his business; all the plumbing and all of the invoicing. He just signed off on the work. If anyone had ever looked into it, he could have gotten into real trouble, but we did smaller jobs for folks who didn't have a lot of money, so no one ever noticed or cared. "Just about the last thing that Henry did before he passed was to swear out my application to become a master plumber. Then one day I showed up for work, and he had died in his sleep. He didn't own much of anything, other than his tools, and he didn't have any family that I knew of, so I just kept on working." After a few minutes spent lying together in silence, I thought that Erin might have drifted off, but she had one more question for me before she did. "When did your mom leave?" I had never told anyone that part of my story; even my brother and sisters thought that Mom had just left one day, leaving me in charge. The reality was so much worse. "By the time Lane started school, Mom had already left us. Not physically, but in all the other ways that matter. She didn't work, and she regularly brought her 'boyfriends' back to our house to trade sex for drugs. Any support she got from social services went straight into her arm or up her nose. I was working long hours by then, to pay the rent and put food on the table, so sometimes that meant that Mary or my brother would be at home with Mom when I wasn't there. I knew it was playing with fire, but there was nothing I could do about it other than pray. "Normally, when I got home, I would blow my horn as I pulled into our drive and Lane would come running out to hug me and tell me about his day. So, I knew something was wrong when I came home late one evening, turned off my truck, and he still hadn't come out. I went inside, and Mom was sitting stoned in the living room watching TV. I asked where Lane was, and she just waved toward the back of the house. Alison and Sharon were out, so Mary and Lane were home with her by themselves. I found him in the room that we shared, cowering in the corner, with little Mary guarding the door. She was only eight at the time. "After a few minutes, I got Lane to tell me what was wrong, and he showed me his arm. Earlier, he had been in the kitchen and had bumped into Mom while she was cooking something on the stove. In a burst of rage, or maybe just evil, she grabbed his arm and held it against the burner. You can still see the scar on his arm today. "That was the end of it. I asked Mary to stay with Lane in our room, I packed Mom's things into the one suitcase we owned, and I drove her to the bus station. I bought her a ticket to Grand Rapids, gave her all the cash in my wallet, and waited with her until she boarded. I told her I would call the police if she ever came back. "Before she left, she spat on me and told me she wished I had never been born." I marveled at how flat my voice sounded, but to my surprise, my cheeks felt wet. I thought I had lost the ability to cry long ago. "Can you imagine that, abandoning your own mother? I'll probably burn in hell, but it was the only way I could think of to keep my brother and sisters safe. I haven't seen her since, although she used to call a couple of times a year asking for money. I didn't feel too bad about hanging up on her when she did, though, since she was still collecting family benefits for us all. Lane barely remembers her, which is likely a blessing, so I made up the story about Mom going away for the weekend and never coming back. "Since then, I have done what was needed for us to survive. When Alison finished school, she wanted to stay home to help look after the others, but I convinced her to go to college. I said that Mom had put aside some money for her tuition, but of course, that was a lie. I have been making the payments for her, but I wanted her to have the chance to just be young, for once. To get away from all of this, at least for a while." "But what about you, Davis?" "I don't matter." "Well, you matter to me." While I was speaking, Erin had wrapped both arms around me and was now holding me tight against her body. When I finished, my body was wracked by waves of uncontrollable grief, but she held me through it all. Eventually, as I started to calm down, she gave me gentle kisses on the nape of my neck and whispered to me in a soft voice. I don't remember what she said, but I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The power came back on early the next morning, and Erin and I were the first people to wake up. She lay beside me with a small smile on her face. "You've had some hard times, Davis Crawford, but you have come out the other side. You're pretty amazing." I felt a sudden burst of both elation and fear as I returned her smile. "Thanks for listening and not judging me. I've never told anyone some of the things I shared with you." "It was my pleasure. Now let's get up and make some coffee." Looking out the window, the snowdrifts were over two feet high in places, but I knew they weren't going to get any lighter as the sun came out and they started to melt. "I am going to get started on the shoveling if you want to start on breakfast." Erin gave me a bemused look. "Or maybe, I am fully capable of shoveling snow, and we can get it done twice as fast by working together." A few minutes after we started, Lane came out to help. At one point, when Erin was on the other side of the yard, he started to speak. "I heard some of what you said to Erin last night. I never knew what Mom did to you, what you did to protect us. Thank you." "Ah, Bud. I never wanted you to worry. Mom wasn't well for a long time, and she made some terrible choices. But she's gone now, and you will always be safe with me." By the time we finished, we had worked ourselves into a lather, so I suggested to Wilma that she get a snow plowing service for the winter. She gave me a look that implied that somewhere there was a village searching for its idiot; and that idiot was me. "Oh, I have a service, but they take so long to come that they are useless if they bother to show up at all." Erin jumped into the conversation, looking pissed off. "It's part of my family and the McDougal's ongoing campaign to get Gran to move. I have told them how dangerous the game they are playing is, but they just don't seem to care." I thought for a minute, before walking a little ways away and making a call. When I returned, I had some good news for Wilma. "Go ahead and cancel your current service. If they aren't going to do the work, they shouldn't have a problem with not getting paid. I called an old friend of mine from school who runs a snow removal company out of Harbor Springs, who owes me a favor or nine. From now on, you will be at the top of his list." Erin and I texted just about every day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we talked most nights when she wasn't working. We were both insanely busy; Erin was providing pediatric coverage for two hospitals that were three hours apart, and I was working as much overtime as possible, to save up for Christmas. Some weeks, the only time we had to meet in person was Sunday afternoons at Wilma's. Mary, in turn, was flourishing under Wilma's guidance. It seemed like she was channeling her emotions into her art, and I began to see the kind and thoughtful sister reemerge that I thought I had lost forever. She wouldn't show me the painting she was working on, but Wilma said she was making good progress, and that was all I needed to know. As it got towards mid-December, our thoughts turned to Christmas. Since Wilma's family was still boycotting the holidays, we decided to have a joint celebration like at Thanksgiving. Erin was going to be working at the hospital in Petoskey on Christmas Day, but we promised to keep Wilma company and to bring her a Christmas meal that she could eat on her break. In typical fashion, she tried to convince us that she would be fine with cafeteria food, but we would hear nothing of it. When we got to Wilma's house for lunch on Christmas Day, she had stockings laid out by the fireplace with a present for each of us. Santa must have had a very healthy budget, because he brought Lane a new fishing rod, Mary a set of expensive paints and charcoals, Sharon a contribution to her college fund, and Alison a specialized nurse's bag with a personalized stethoscope. Rather than a present, my stocking came with a small envelope that contained a pair of tickets to the traveling production of "Moulin Rouge" that was playing in Grand Rapids in March. Although I was happy to get a present of any kind, Wilma must have seen my look of confusion at the choice. "I was talking to Santa, and he mentioned that Erin loves musicals. Phillip used to take her to them when she was younger. He would put on his best suit, and she would get all dolled up in a dress with some of my jewelry, and they would go out for a fancy dinner before the show and have a grand old time." I looked at her in amusement, before replying. "Well, it seems that Santa is about as subtle as a sledgehammer. But I will have to say thanks, next time I bump into him." Our present to Wilma came in three parts. First, we included her in our Christmas cookie exchange, and Mary even gave her a double portion of the chocolate chip cookies she had baked. Second, the five of us committed to helping her catch up on the yard work and house repairs that had fallen by the wayside since Phillip passed. And finally, we pledged to do everything in our power to make sure that she could stay in her house for as long as she was able. Wilma hugged and thanked each of us with tears in her eyes, then looked over at Mary. "Why don't you get your present for your brother." Mary went to the studio at the back of the house and brought back what looked like a small painting, wrapped in Christmas paper. "I wanted to make you something to say 'thank you' for everything you have done for us. And for not giving up on me." When I unwrapped the painting, I was stunned. It was very different from Phillip or Wilma's more realistic works and had vibrant streaks of paint that burst across the canvas, meeting, seemingly at random, in explosions of color. The entire piece was chaotic, except for a single corner that was shielded from the turmoil by a solid arc of paint that was the exact color of my eyes. After lunch, Mary and Sharon kept Wilma company while Alison, Lane, and I went to see Erin at the hospital. Things were pretty quiet, so she had time to sit and eat her dinner with us. While she ate, I showed her pictures from earlier in the day. She laughed at one, in particular, of Wilma with her arm around Mary while they were wearing festive paper hats from their Christmas crackers. "Thank you for taking such good care of Wilma, Davis. She would never admit it, but the holidays would have been very lonely for her this year without you. It means the world to me that you could be there for her." We chatted a bit longer before I pulled out my present for Erin. It was a small flat package which she opened slowly. Inside was a framed drawing of Wilma's house, as seen from the docks, as she looked out the picture window in her living room. "This is amazing, who made it?" "I used to draw quite a bit in school. Since Mary has been working with your Gran, I thought I might give it another try, and I particularly liked how this one turned out." "It's beautiful, Davis. Thank you." She started to blush as she glanced over at Lane, before she slid a card over to me, and whispered, "Maybe you should wait to open this until later when you're alone." Inside the card was Erin's two-part gift to me. First, an invitation to visit her in Grand Rapids, and second, a night for the two of us in a suite at a very nice hotel. New Year's Eve was even quieter than usual at our house. Erin was working in Grand Rapids and was on call that evening. I spoke with her earlier in the day, however, and wished her a Happy New Year, and we sent each other kissing emojis at midnight. The rest of us spent the night playing board games. The only real excitement came a few days earlier when Mary asked if she could invite a friend to join us. "And is this friend a boy, by chance?" As far as I knew, Mary had never had a boyfriend, so this was a new development. Mary didn't have to answer, since her blush did the talking for her. "Do we know this boy?" "It's; It's James McDougal. But he's not like his brothers. He's a good guy." I had my reservations about all of the McDougals, but I was willing to give him a chance. I had only met James that one time at his parent's house when I had gone to get Mary, and he seemed polite enough. But since he was a McDougal, he was starting with two strikes and was in danger of going down swinging. To give Mary credit, James passed the first boyfriend test before he even made it into the house. When he drove into the yard, Munchkin was the first to greet him. He wasn't growling or barking like he sometimes did, or showing his teeth, but he was plenty intimidating. James waited patiently for him to approach before carefully scratching behind his ears. After Mary came out to greet James, Munchkin decided he was alright and fell in behind them as they came inside. Just after midnight, as he was getting ready to leave, James took me aside. "I just wanted to say, sir, that I am sorry for what happened with Mary a few months back. I should never have brought her over to my house without your permission, and I should have brought her right back home once I saw that my brothers were home. I promise you, that despite my bad judgment, I would have made sure that nothing happened to her, and I won't ever make that mistake again." I had to admit that James was growing on me. Chapter 5. It wasn't long before Mary introduced James to Wilma. I had to work on a Sunday in early January, so he offered to drive her to Wilma's in my place. I could tell he was nervous, and he was wearing a nice, collared shirt with some clean jeans, under his winter jacket. By the time he brought Mary home, his shirt was soaked in sweat, and he looked a little like a young man returning from war. Later that week, I asked Wilma what she thought of him. "He seems like a nice, polite boy and he sure is besotted with our Mary. While Mary and I worked on her latest painting, he did some chores for me, including chopping and stacking the entire half cord of wood you dropped off last week. But he didn't complain, and he was still smiling at Mary when he was done, so I think he will do." Wilma's relationship with the rest of the McDougals, however, remained tense, and they made it clear to me that continuing to help her would come at a steep cost. I ran into Calum one evening at the grocery store and he made their position crystal clear. "We've got a big job coming up in Indian River that you might be interested in. Starts in a week, and it would keep you busy for the better part of the next year, solid. The job is yours if you want it." "What's this job going to cost me?" "It's yours, no strings attached. But you wouldn't have time to help old lady Anderson anymore. You know, and I know, that it's time for her to move on from that land. It's what her family wants and it's what's best for her. I am sure that doctor down in Petoskey would understand, I figure she must be tired of looking after that grandmother of hers all the time anyway. Think how much more time the two of you would have together if you were working a regular nine-to-five kind of job. "On the other hand, if you don't work with us on this project, my family is going to take it pretty hard. Hard enough that we might reach out to our friends and neighbors to let them know that you are not a team player and that they may not want to do business with you." There it was. They were threatening to ruin me if I didn't do what they wanted. I knew they couldn't cut off all of my business since there were too many people in the lower peninsula who had been screwed over by them in the past. But they could sure make things tough for me. I am really bad at taking orders, however, particularly from dickheads like Calum McDougal. Calum had a cynical smile as he walked away. He didn't value decency or loyalty, so I was sure he thought he had won me over. All he had done was harden my resolve. I felt honor-bound to reach out to my friend who was clearing Wilma's driveway, though, to let him know that he might get some heat from the McDougals. He was surprisingly poetic in his response. "Fuck those arrogant worm-drowners and the horses they rode in on." Valentine's Day was never a big deal for me. Over the years, I hadn't had time to date, and I wouldn't have had any money to do anything special if I did, so the Hallmark holiday passed me by without too much fuss or bother. I had hoped things might be different since I was with Erin, but she was on call at the hospital in Petoskey, and I was pushing hard on a large multi-unit build that was on a tight schedule, so I was working six or even seven days a week until it was done. My work hadn't completely dried up since my run-in with Calum, but it had certainly taken a hit, so I was not in a position to turn down jobs, no matter how inconvenient. My one consolation was I knew I would see Erin in a couple of weeks when I visited her in Grand Rapids for the show. I had some flowers delivered to her at the hospital anyway, to let her know that I was thinking of her. That earned me an emoji-filled text and an enthusiastic video call when she was done with her shift. As the date of the show got closer, I started to get anxious. I had never been to a live performance of anything, except the occasional high school assembly, and I worried that Erin would be disappointed in my lack of manners and refinement. Wilma noticed my growing nervousness and decided that I needed a pep talk. "Listen, Davis. Erin likes you for who you are. She doesn't need or want you to act like some slick yuppie from the big city." "I know, Wilma, but I don't even know what to wear. The nicest outfit I own is still just a collared shirt over a pair of jeans." "Hmm, I can help you with that. I still have some of Phillip's old suits and ties, let's take a look and see what might fit." Half an hour later, Wilma had picked out a heavier dark charcoal-colored suit, a lightweight linen suit suitable for warmer weather, and a dark grey suit with tight pinstripes for me to try on. She had some shirts for me, as well, from when Phillip was younger. "Phillip wore that pinstripe suit the first time that he took me to the movies. I'll never forget that night, he looked just like Cary Grant. If you bring these suits to the tailor in Indian River, he should be able to take in the jacket and hem the pants to fit you perfectly. A good tailor can make these suits look like they were cut just for you." I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I couldn't help but wonder if I would look funny in a decades-old suit. Wilma dismissed my concerns out of hand. "Let me tell you a little secret. If you buy a cheap suit, it will quickly begin to look tacky and dated. If you invest in a quality suit, it will age gracefully and become a timeless classic." Finally, Wilma selected a half dozen ties for me to try on and spent an hour teaching me how to tie a half-Windsor knot. "Get these suits altered, grab yourself a pair of polished black leather shoes, and you'll have those snooty pricks at the theatre thinking they are underdressed. And try to have fun. Erin loves the theatre, so if the two of you continue to fall in love, you will be going with her at least a couple of times a year, so you might as well enjoy it." I stood there in shock for a moment. "Do you really think Erin is falling in love with me?" "Well, yes, I do. And it's clear as daylight that you're in love with her too. But don't overthink things. Just go to the show and have a great night together. And here, take this with you as well," Wilma said handing me a navy blue pocket square with a distinctive paisley pattern. "Most men don't bother wearing a pocket square anymore, but I think they complete the look perfectly. You should wear this one on your date with Erin." Wilma took a final look at me and then slipped a twenty-dollar bill into my pocket. "That's for you to get a haircut before the show. Your normal 'shaggy mutt lost in a forest' look is adorable but not for your big date." The day of the performance approached with both aching slowness and relentless speed. We hadn't discussed it, but I knew (or at least strongly suspected) that Erin would have some expectations about how we spent our time together after the show. Unfortunately, I had no experience when it came to women other than a single kiss with Brittany Johnson back in my sophomore year of high school. I was terrified that I would disappoint her. To make matters worse, I had the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Grand Rapids to overthink things. By the time I arrived at Erin's apartment complex, I was a bit of a mess. My nerves were somewhat allayed, however, when Erin came running out to greet me with a huge smile on her face. "You made it! How was the drive? Wow, I love the haircut! I hope you're not too tired. I can't wait for tonight. I have been telling the girls all about you, and they are dying to see if the man lives up to the legend!" I guess Erin could see the sudden swell of anxiety on my face, so she took my hand. "Don't worry, the girls will love you, Davis. Why don't you grab your bag and come inside? I thought we could get changed here and then check in to the hotel before dinner and the show." Erin's housemates were really sweet, and the three of us chatted for at least an hour while Erin got ready before I excused myself to do the same. I put on Phillip's charcoal grey suit along with the crisp white shirt that Wilma had recommended. It took me four tries to tie my navy blue tie, but even I could tell that it made the colors in my paisley pocket square pop. Despite my nerves, I was still ready before Erin, so I rejoined her housemates in the living room while I waited. They kept sneaking glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking, so much so that I thought I must have done something wrong. Rather than second-guessing myself, I decided to take the bull by the horns and ask; better to be embarrassed in front of Erin's housemates than in front of her. "It's; it's not that you did anything wrong. It's just that you look; well, amazing; like an old-time movie star or something. Erin is going to swoon when she sees you." "You really think so?" I asked, still not sure of myself. Just then, I heard Erin's voice from behind me. "I'm sorry I took so long; we should head out before we're;" Erin went silent as I turned to look at her. She was wearing a floor-length emerald-green dress, which seemed to flow around her and mold to her curves, gathering delicately at her neck while leaving her back bare. Her sandy-blonde hair was styled in an elegant updo, while a few strands floated loose, framing her face. But, as always, what captured and held my gaze were her amber eyes, which danced and sparkled as she moved. My hands began to tremble, and I didn't trust myself to speak. "Do I look alright, Davis?" I took a deep breath that sent oxygen coursing through my body, as I found my voice. "I had no idea that anyone could look as beautiful as you do right now." Apparently, she liked my response, since her face broke into a wide grin. "You look mighty handsome yourself, Mister," she said while making a small adjustment to the knot of my tie. "Is that one of Grampy's suits? It looks amazing on you, and I love the tie and the; Oh; Oh, Davis. Is that Grampy's pocket square?" I could see tears forming in her eyes. "Wilma thought you might like it; that it might remind you of Phillip and the times he took you to the theatre when you were younger. I don't have to wear it, though, if you don't like it," I said reaching up to take it out of my pocket. Erin stopped my hand with hers, however, and then lightly ran her fingertips over the colorful square. "Gran was right. It reminds me of Grampy and now it will remind me of you. Please, I want you to wear it. For me." I felt a bit self-conscious pulling up to a fancy hotel in my ratty old truck, but it didn't seem to faze Erin in the least, so I decided not to worry about it. The suite she had booked was by far the nicest room of any kind that I had ever been in, but I tried not to seem like a country rube as I looked around. "Do you like it?" Erin asked a bit nervously, as she tried to gauge my reaction. "Honestly, I thought that rooms like this were just for celebrities and movie stars, and folks like that." "Normally that's the case, I guess, but for one night; tonight; it's ours." Dinner was lovely. I kept expecting people to see past my suit and realize that I was an imposter; just a plumber from the peninsula; not the kind of man who should be spending the evening with a woman like Erin. But she seemed to be having a wonderful time, so I began to relax. My anxiety was further abated when she leaned over the table and said in a low voice. "Jesus, the women in this place can't stop checking you out. I'm kind of wishing I had brought my bear spray now to keep them away. I need to excuse myself for a minute, but I wouldn't be surprised to find one of them trying to take my place when I get back." "Erin, I would never;" "I know, Darling. And frankly, they can look all they want because I know who you're going home with tonight." After that, I looked around the room with a new eye and noticed the subtle glances in my direction, and the shy smiles and blushes. I guess Phillip really did have good taste in suits. After dinner, we walked arm-in-arm to the performance hall, which was very impressive, with its soaring ceilings and plush velvet upholstery. Our seats were in a box on the right-hand side of the hall, which gave us a commanding view of the stage. As the lights went down, Erin took my hand in eager anticipation. I don't remember much about the performance that night; I spent more time watching Erin's childlike wonder than what was happening on the stage. Erin was still holding my hand at the intermission, and I felt a warm sense of contentment wash over me. "Oh, I forgot to mention, some of the largest donors to the hospital are hosting a reception after the performance. Would it be alright if we put in an appearance before we head back to our hotel?" I agreed without hesitation; a decision I would second guess before the night was over. It was close to 10:30 by the time the performance ended, and Erin held my arm, while resting her head on my shoulder, as we made our way through the hall to the reception. We each grabbed a drink, and we drifted through the small crowd until Erin was greeted warmly by a distinguished-looking older couple. Erin introduced them to me as the hosts of the reception, Mr. and Mrs. Wendel. "Please, just call us Tom and Martha. And you two make such a lovely couple. What do you do, Davis?" "I am a plumber, Ma'am," I replied, wondering how that news would be received by this obviously well-to-do couple, but I needn't have worried. "What kind of plumbing do you do?" Tom asked with genuine interest. "Mainly residential at this point, since I just got my master's license last year. A lot of the larger builders want to see some gray hairs on the heads of their skilled tradesmen, so right now, I am just doing what I can to pay the bills." "Amen, to that brother. I remember those days well. I started out, over 30 years ago now, as a dry Waller, and I spent more years than I care to remember doing whatever jobs I could get, just to get a foot in the door. It paid off for me in the end, though. Say, I am working on a development on the south side of town and was wondering;" Before Martha could stop him, Tom launched into a long and technical question about a challenge he was having with the plumbing for his new development. When I started an equally long and technical response, Erin kissed me on the cheek and whispered that Martha and she were going to go to the bar to get another drink. A few minutes later, I was still talking with Tom when a movement at the bar caught my eye. I looked more closely and saw that Erin was speaking with a tall, arrogant-looking man who kept trying to put his hand on her lower back, while she forcefully pushed it away. "My apologies, Tom, but could you give me a minute?" Without waiting for a reply, I walked over to where Erin was standing and slipped my arm around her waist, just as the man reached for her for a third time. "Hey, now," I said, trying to defuse the situation with a bit of humor. "At least buy me a drink before you make a move on me like that." His hand recoiled like it had been scalded, and his cheeks colored in anger. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from where I was standing. "Well, if it isn't the plumber," he said in a mocking tone. He must have been eavesdropping on my conversation with Tom, and he clearly wasn't impressed. "What did you think of the show this evening? Actually, that's hardly a fair question since you've probably never been to the theatre before. So, how about something more your level? I wonder what you would think of the bathrooms in my new penthouse. I am sure you would find them very impressive. I will give you a call the next time my toilet gets clogged, and you can come and check them out." He seemed very pleased with his insults, so he continued, a condescending grin on his face. "Anyway, Dr. Anderson, as I was saying, it was charitable of you to let the help see how the rest of us live, and I am sure he is having a good time and all, but it's past time for him to bring his daddy's suit home, don't you think? Why don't you leave him to it, and you and I can go have a drink? And then; who knows? I had dealt with people like this prick for my entire life. When you grow up with one abusive parent and no money, you get used to just about everyone feeling like they are better than you. There was nothing I could do about that, but I learned to use humor as a shield to protect myself and deflect attention. But sometimes humor just wasn't enough. And when humor failed, a more direct approach was called for. "You know, if you're trying to insult me, you're going to have to work a whole lot harder than that. But I doubt that hard work is something that you're too familiar with. I have been working since I was twelve to put food on the table for my brother and sisters. I have been a plumber since I was fourteen; by the time I was fifteen, I am sure I had already spent more time ankle-deep in shit than you've spent doing honest work in your entire life. "I didn't borrow this suit from my father because I don't know who my father is; that's right, I'm a bastard. But I am a bastard by circumstance and not by choice. I was born this way, what's your excuse? And since you asked, the suit I'm wearing belonged to Erin's grandfather, and you're right, I would never be able to afford a suit like this myself. But it's an honor to wear a suit that belonged to a man who loved Erin more than anything in this world. If I am really lucky, maybe she will let me love her just as deeply one day. "I may not know that much about musicals or the theatre, but anything that brings that much joy to Erin is more than fine in my books. So, I am going to continue to have a wonderful time with Erin this evening. Why wouldn't I? I am here with the most beautiful woman in the place, or;" I swept my gaze over to Martha, who was still standing beside Erin, "tied for the most beautiful, anyway." The man's face was now distorted with anger, and he took a step towards me. I stepped forward to meet him, my eyes never leaving his. Before, I had been speaking loudly for the benefit of those around us, but now I was speaking in a controlled voice, pitched for his ears alone. "You can say what you want about me, you prick. I have no respect for arrogant shitheels like you, so I just don't care. But before you ever think about putting your hands on Erin again, without her consent, you would do well to remember the Pipe Wrench Incident. "When I was fourteen, two of the men my mother was having sex with, in exchange for drugs, decided that my sister Alison should join in their fun. She was just nine years old. Luckily, I was home at the time, but I was just a kid, and they were fully grown men. When it was over, they were in the hospital, and I was cleaning my pipe wrench with some WD-40 and a rag." I looked him up and down once, dismissively. "Remember that story the next time you're tempted to touch someone I love." I turned to Tom who had come over to stand with Martha. "I'm sorry I interrupted your lovely event, and please don't hold my bad manners against Erin. I don't want to cause any more trouble, so maybe we should be on our way." Tom held up his hand indicating that we should stay. "Dr. Allen, you're drunk and making an ass of yourself. Please see yourself out. On your way home, please consider what you would like me to say at the next Board meeting regarding your behavior tonight." As a chastened Dr. Allen left the reception, Erin leaned over and whispered in my ear, "So, I'm someone you love, am I?" Before I could stammer a reply, Erin kissed my cheek and led me away to get a drink. We avoided the topic of Dr. Allen for the rest of the evening until we were on our way back to the hotel. "Did you really put two men in the hospital with a pipe wrench?" I chuckled softly before responding. "That part of the story is 100% true. What I didn't mention, though, was that they were both stoned at the time and facing the other direction. They would have killed me in a fair fight." It was close to midnight by the time we made it back to the hotel. We held each other's hands as we walked to the elevators, and Erin leaned against me as the doors closed. "Davis, how would you like this evening to end?" My heart started racing and my hands trembled. "I; I want to be with you. But, I have never;" "Are you still a virgin?" "I kissed a girl once, back in high school, but it was nothing like kissing you. I want you more than anything I have ever wanted in my life, but I don't want to disappoint you." Erin tried to stay calm as she replied. "So, you think that I am some kind of floozy who is going to compare you to all my past conquests?" "No, that's not it at all, I;" "Or do you think that I am so shallow that I will get mad at you if it takes a little while for you to learn what I like?" "No, I don't think that either;" "Okay, then. Here is what's going to happen. When we get to our room, you are going to move some of the furniture out of the way, while I put on some music. You still remember how to dance, right? And then we will take things slowly. I will let you know what makes me feel good, and you will let me know what makes you feel even better. And we will be together, and that's all that matters." And that is what happened. Erin started a playlist of songs that she liked, and we slowly danced together in our room. After the first song ended, she nuzzled into my chest as she loosened my tie and undid the first two buttons of my shirt. When the next song started, she started gently kissing and then licking my chest, causing my manhood to stiffen almost painfully. "Well, hello, my rather large friend. You need to be patient, for now. But if you're good, I may kiss you as well before the night is done." Her sensuous voice, and the image it evoked, were definitely not conducive to patience, and I let out a low moan of pleasure. "That's what I like to hear," she murmured as she untucked my shirt and continued to undo my buttons until she could run her tongue over my nipples and tweak them with her teeth. She looked up at me with sultry, half-lidded eyes. "It's okay for you to touch me as well if you want," she said, as she took one of my hands and slid it under the back of her dress and down to her silky-smooth cheeks. She slid my other hand under the front of her dress so that it cupped her tit, and she sucked in a breath as I stroked my callused thumb over her nipple. "Now some women like it when you;" I kissed her before she could finish her thought. "Erin, I don't care what some women like, the only woman I want is you." "Oh," she replied in a breathy voice. "Well, I like it when you're a bit rougher with my tits. Not right away, I need to be in the mood; like I am now;" She lost her train of thought as my hand enveloped and massaged her tit, squeezing her nipple lightly between my thumb and forefinger as I lifted it away from her body. "Mmmm, yes. Just like that, baby." I felt a wave of heat roll up the fingers on my other hand, so I slid it further down until I felt a small triangle of material, that was slick with liquid heat. I slipped my finger a little further and felt her long smooth cunt open at my touch. "Oh, Baby," Erin whispered huskily into my ear. "We are going to have so much fun tonight." It was strange going back to my regular life after my night with Erin. The time with her was so incredible, and so beyond anything I could ever have imagined, that it didn't seem real. To be continued in part 4. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2 Dancing, and other forms of sentimentality. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.  As we finished the prep work, I asked Wilma about her day with Mary. "She is a good kid but is carrying a lot of anger and shame. We spent most of the day getting in touch with that anger. It takes some people years before they can express their emotions through art; it took her about five minutes. But we had to take some breaks to clean up the paint splatters afterward before they stained." "Oh shit! Sorry about that. I can pay to replace anything that;" "Nothing to apologize for; I asked her to express how she felt, and she did it in the way that felt right to her." "Well, I appreciate your taking the time. I am just her big brother; I feel so lost when it comes to parenting." "Being a parent doesn't mean that you know any more than anyone else, and it certainly doesn't mean that you know any better. For what it's worth, I think you are doing a fine job with your family. I know that you don't have your parents around to say it, but this old woman is mighty proud of who you are and of how you have stepped up for your brother and sisters. They are very lucky to have you." I turned away so that Wilma wouldn't see me getting choked up. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had said they were proud of me. Soon enough, though, it was dinner time, and Erin came into the kitchen with that same look of amusement on her face. "Sorry to bother the chef, but Lane needs some help that only a big brother can provide." When I gave her a quizzical look, she blushed. "It seems like he is going through puberty, which can pose; some new challenges. When I was assessing his ankle, he; well, indicated his interest in me in a way that can be difficult to hide, particularly while wearing sweatpants. It's natural for his body to react that way at that age, and it's nothing for him to feel badly about, but he was mortified. I think he could use a bit of brotherly guidance and understanding." I went to the living room and saw that Lane was curled up on the couch and looked like he was fighting back tears. "How are you doing, Buddy?" He couldn't even look at me he was so embarrassed. "I am so sorry; I just couldn't help it. I don't know why it started to get bigger, and I wanted it to stop, and it wouldn't and then she saw me, and;" he continued as he fought back a sob. "Can we just go home?" "Erin is a doctor. She knows how the human body works and has seen that kind of thing a hundred times. She isn't mad at you or embarrassed. She just feels bad that you feel so bad. This is just part of getting older and growing up. "Did I ever tell you about what happened in Miss Iron's class when I was a freshman? Miss Iron was a bit of a legend among the male students at our local high school. She was the youngest and prettiest teacher, by far, and even though she always dressed professionally, the clothing style had yet to be invented that could fully conceal her bountiful natural endowment. "Well, I liked Miss Irons a lot. She was one of the few teachers who looked past my difficulty with reading and writing. So, I developed a little crush on her, which was fine until the inevitable; hmm, physical demonstration of my crush; happened in class one day, just before she asked me to collect everyone's quizzes. I tried to delay, I tried to ask a friend to do it instead, but eventually, I had to stand up. It took me until my junior year to live that one down." As Lane listened to my story, he turned to face me and his second-hand embarrassment for me helped to push his embarrassment to the side. "So, what happened?" "Miss Irons was lovely and kind like she always was, but I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me or to get hit by a bolt of lightning. Things would have been fine if she hadn't mentioned what happened to the principal, who called Mom. She didn't find the story funny at all." I hadn't thought of the aftermath when I started telling Lane this particular story, but as they say, might as well put it in four-wheel drive and keep going. "Mom was mad?" "By then, Mom was pretty much always angry. I did my best to keep her away from you and the girls when she got that way, but yeah; she was mad." "Are you mad at me?" "No, Bud, I'm not. In a few years, once your embarrassment has died down a little, I will tease you mercilessly about this because that's what brothers do; and maybe threaten to tell your girlfriend, if you fall behind on your chores or homework. But I will never get mad at you for something that you can't control. And I promise that Erin isn't mad at you either." Just then, Mary poked her head in to tell us that dinner was on the table. "Are you safe now, or do you need a few more minutes." "I'm good. Thanks, Dad." After I helped Lane hobble into the dining room, we got down to the business of eating and teasing each other, but not necessarily in that order. It felt good; almost like what I imagined a real family would feel like. Eventually, the conversation turned to more serious matters, though, and Erin led off the questions. "So, how do you know Gran, and why are you wearing Grampy's favorite sweater? And, for what it's worth, I don't remember him filling it out in quite the way that you do." I blushed a bit as Wilma jumped in. "If Phillip had filled out that sweater like young Davis here, it wouldn't have stayed on him for very long, I can tell you that." "Gran!" Erin exclaimed, laughing while sounding scandalized. "I didn't need that mental image. Heck, none of us needed that mental image." "Oh, don't you worry, Dear. He still filled it out well enough, and it looked equally good on our bedroom floor." We were pretty much all blushing at that point, which I think was Wilma's objective, so I quickly changed the topic. "I am just your mother's plumber. I came out to fix her boiler and then finished the job earlier this week when a couple of parts came in that I needed." Wilma jumped in at that point and added her two cents to my story. "He also brought me my groceries and we had a lovely conversation. He is a real Renaissance gentleman, a rarity these days." Erin looked grateful but concerned. "Did you have enough money to cover the bill, Gran? You know I can help if you need;" I tried to jump in before Wilma could reply. "No need to worry, the bill was paid in full;" "Hogwash," Wilma exclaimed as I tried to finish, turning to Mary before she continued. "Your brother wouldn't let me pay him a cent for the work that he did. Not even for the parts that needed to be replaced! He is a very nice boy but a terrible businessman." I turned to Erin for support. "I figured your Gran has enough going on right now with her health and all. It was the least I could do to help her out." Erin looked at me with a strange expression on her face. I didn't have much experience with women, so I figured I must have made her angry somehow. Most of my interactions with women, including my sisters, seemed to end with them being upset with me for one reason or another, but she didn't sound angry when she spoke. "Thank you, Davis, that was very sweet of you." "Yeah, well; you see, it's just; pass the fish, please." "That still doesn't explain why you're wearing Grampy's favorite sweater. When I was a little girl, I used to curl up in Grampy's lap and snuggle into that sweater as he read to me. He was wearing it when I danced my first dance with him in front of the fireplace. Do you remember that old record player, Gran? You used to bring it out and we would waltz around the living room to Moon River." "I still have that record player here somewhere, let me go see if I can find it." Erin started to protest, but it was too late. "To finish answering your question, Erin, we were here today because your Gran offered to mentor Mary. I tried to politely decline, but your Gran is pretty persistent when she wants to be." "That sounds like Gran. Most of the time when she makes a suggestion, it is really a command." "While we are asking questions, how is Lane's ankle?" "It's pretty badly sprained, and he will need to use crutches to walk for the next couple of weeks. You should bring him to the hospital to get some X-rays done as well, to make sure that he doesn't have any fractures." I could feel myself deflate as she mentioned X-rays. "I'm not trying to be cheap, but are the X-rays absolutely necessary? We don't have the best insurance; we got it through the exchange. I guess it's better than nothing, but the deductible is pretty high, and my other sister, Alison, her college tuition is due soon. But if you say it's important, I will put in some extra hours to make it work." It didn't usually bother me that we were poor. Heck, most everyone we knew, except the McDougals, was poor. But it hit home when you had to tell a beautiful doctor with bright amber eyes that you couldn't afford an X-ray for your little brother unless it was urgent. "Tell you what. I will be working at the hospital in Petoskey tomorrow, so why don't you bring Lane by, and I will take care of him? I will make sure that he gets a pair of loaner crutches for as long as he needs them." "You don't need to do that for us." Erin gave me another one of her looks, this one I was more familiar with; I was pretty sure it was annoyance. "So, just to be clear, you can look after my Gran, fix her boiler for free, and bring her groceries whenever you feel like it, but I can't look after your brother and make sure that his ankle is treated properly?" "Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a bit of a jackass. I'm sorry." "Apology accepted. Come by the hospital at 11 AM tomorrow." Before we could continue, the sound of a 45 playing on an old record player filled the house. You could hear the hisses and pops before Ella Fitzgerald's voice began to sing "Dream a Little Dream of Me." Chapter 3. We got up from the table and followed the music back to the living room. I helped Lane out of his chair while he half-hobbled and half-hopped along beside me. Wilma had set her ancient record player up in the corner beside a stack of old 45s, and she had a faraway look in her eyes as she looked out the picture window toward the lake. "I think it's time for me to ask the prettiest girl in the place to dance," I said, as my eyes swept across the room. "But unfortunately, it's a three-way tie. So, will you do me the honor?" I said as I held out my hand to Wilma. "I haven't danced since Phillip passed. You know, we used to dance together every Friday night. It didn't matter where we were or what we were doing, we would always make time to dance at least one song together, even if the music was only in our heads." "I imagine I will be a pretty poor partner compared to Phillip, but I will try not to step on your toes." Wilma and I ended up dancing a slow foxtrot to "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole. She smiled at me as we slowly circled the living room. "You're a very good dancer, young man." "Our mother taught me when I was very young." Before she began with the drugs and men, our mother had been a showgirl in New York and then Las Vegas. When she got pregnant with me, she moved back to Mackinaw City and started teaching ballroom dancing at a local studio. By the time I was five, I was her practice partner of choice, and she always insisted that I lead, despite being only half her size. "The man always leads, Darling, that's just the way of the world." I was hardly a man at the time, but I never disagreed with my mother when she was in a good mood, because I knew it could shift in an instant. So, I learned to dance, and I learned to lead. The memories came flooding back as I guided Wilma into a soft over-sway, and she smiled with delight. "Oh my, you do know how to dance!" I couldn't help but smile back. "I can't take all the credit. I think Phillip must have infused this sweater with his fancy footwork." As the song ended, I took a step back and did my best to give Wilma a gracious bow. "It was a pleasure dancing with you, my lady." "The pleasure was all mine, good sir." I turned toward Mary and held out my hand. She hesitated before Wilma declared, "There are no wallflowers in this house." Mary slowly stood but looked anxious as I took her hand. "Davis, I don't know how to dance. Mom was; she was too far gone to teach me by the time I was old enough to learn." "That's okay," I reassured her. "If there is anything that Mom made sure of, it's that I know how to lead. Just relax, and I will guide you through it." Wilma helped Lane, who had taken over as DJ, to choose a slower song so that Mary would feel more comfortable, and I heard the opening bars of "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. I started to lead Mary through a slow rumba, and she picked up the steps very quickly. She was a natural. I felt a sudden stab of regret as we moved together across the floor. "I'm sorry. I should have made time to teach you to dance. But the last few years, it has just taken everything I have to keep us;" "It's alright. You've had other things on your mind. And look; you are teaching me how to dance, now." As Mary grew more confident, I guided her through a simple underarm turn, and we ended with a dip, which made her giggle and earned a round of applause from the others. Finally, I turned to Erin, who was sitting on the couch beside Lane. I suddenly felt very shy and, for the first time that evening, she looked nervous as well. "Would you dance with me, Erin?" She didn't reply but stood and took my hand. We waited for a moment while Wilma and Lane chose a new 45 and then listened to the pop and hiss as it started to play. Soon, an alto saxophone introduced the Henri Mancini version of "Moon River," and we started a slow waltz. Although there was space between us, it was bridged by an electric charge that connected and drew us together. Even though I spent most of the dance looking over Erin's shoulder, every detail of her beauty was etched in my memory, and I felt a warm breeze pass between us, raising goosebumps on my skin. We barely noticed the pause as the song ended, and a new one began until Etta James began to sing. At last, my love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song The song was in 4/4 time, so I switched to a foxtrot and Erin followed as we glided across the smooth wood of the living room floor. I was so caught up in the moment, and in Erin, that I led her through a turn that transitioned into an over sway, before I stepped backward, allowing her to gently pivot into me. Our eyes met and I was lost in them again. Before we could break the spell, a heavy gust of wind shook the house, and the power flickered out. The room went dark, which sharpened my remaining senses. Suddenly, the warmth of Erin's breath on my neck felt like wildfire across my skin. We were motionless for a three-heartbeat eternity before the lights flickered and came back on. I let go of Erin and felt all of my longing and awkwardness rush back in. "Thank you, Erin. That was;" I couldn't finish; words didn't seem enough to express how I felt. "I should check the breakers and make sure that everything is alright, and then we should go. Why don't I wash these clothes and drop them back for you later." Wilma just smiled and shook her head. "If you like them, please keep them. Otherwise, they will just grow old and musty like me." A little while later, we said our goodbyes, but I promised to bring Lane to the hospital the next morning. Wilma told Mary that she would see her on Wednesday after school and again the next Sunday. I was expecting Mary to protest, but she just gave a meek, "Yes, Wilma." I was nervous when I took Lane to the hospital the next day. The deductible on our insurance was high enough that we paid for pretty much anything less serious than a severed limb out of pocket. Erin, however, was as good as her word. After the X-ray confirmed that there were no breaks or fractures in the bones around his ankle, she re-wrapped it and arranged for a pair of loaner crutches that he could use for as long as he needed them. Before we left, Erin asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee in the cafeteria, to which I readily agreed. I gave my phone to Lane so he could amuse himself while Erin and I talked. "I just wanted to say how much I appreciate what you did for Gran. I do what I can, but I spend half my time at the Children's Hospital down in Grand Rapids right now and I am often on call while I am here. I just don't have the time to give her the help that she needs." "Honestly, it's no big deal. I do a lot of work around Good Hart since the bigger plumbing companies don't like to travel that far, so I don't mind looking in on her while I am there. And she seems to have taken a real interest in Mary, so the least I can do is to bring her some groceries and help around the place a bit." Erin pursed her lips and looked like she had just bitten into a lemon. "The 'least you can do' is more than the rest of our family can be bothered to do put together, so thank you." "I meant to ask you about that. What did your Gran do to end up so isolated from the rest of your family?" "The rest of my family is; there is no nice way to put it, they're snobs. None of them have any interest in spending time 'up north' as they call it, and they can't wait for Gran to move into a retirement home and die so they can get their money and forget about this place. That's why no one comes to visit Gran anymore, even for Thanksgiving; it's part of their campaign to convince her to sell her land to the McDougals. Before you came along, I thought they were going to succeed." "Well, excuse my language, but fuck them. I don't know Wilma that well, but I will do what I can to make sure that she gets to spend her remaining days in the place that she loves." "That's easy to say, but harder to do once the McDougals and their minions start coming by your place, offering you money and making threats unless you back off." "Well, if they do, they will find out what every teacher who ever taught me learned the hard way. I am bad at taking orders and even worse at following instructions. I am not afraid of the McDougal boys." My exclamation brought a smile to Erin's pretty face. I decided that I would be willing to do quite a lot to see that smile on her face again. But there was one thing I still didn't understand. "Why aren't you on board with the rest of your family? You must be under a lot of pressure to abandon your Gran like the rest of them." "My father, Gran's youngest son, Max, died shortly after I was born, and my mother moved the family to California where she remarried into a family that had a little money but a great deal of pretension and ambition. My mother picked up that insatiable need for money and status like it was a virus. "When I was a child, my mother and stepfather spent summers and holidays traveling the world, staying in places where children weren't welcome. Although they wanted nothing to do with Gran and Grampy and their 'vermin-filled shack in the middle of nowhere', they were more than happy to leave me with them while they were away. "They would put me on a plane to Grand Rapids while they jetted off to their spas and their fine dining. Gran and Grampy were the only people who cared for me, and they became my whole world. "When I was 14, I was staying with Gran and Grampy, and I caught a fever that was so bad that I nearly died. It was a pretty grim time. My parents even thought about flying home from Monaco to be with me. They didn't, but it was the only time in my entire childhood that they considered it. But I will always remember how kind the doctors and nurses were to me when I was sick. That's why I became a pediatrician and moved home." "Isn't California home?" "Home is where the people that you love are, and so this will always be my home. Or it will be until Gran passes on, anyway." We sat in silence for a while, sipping our coffee. Before long, it was time for me to go. "This might sound crazy, but since the rest of your family aren't going to be here to celebrate Thanksgiving with your Gran, how about you and I try to give her one more Thanksgiving to remember." Erin brightened at the idea, and the smile returned to her face. "That would be amazing! Why don't I give you my number, and we can figure out how to make it happen!" Chapter 4. For the next few weeks, Mary continued to meet with Wilma on Wednesdays and Sundays. I would often take the opportunity to bring her groceries or other supplies while I dropped Mary off and, if the weather was agreeable, do some fishing. Once he could walk without crutches, Lane came along as well, in quest of another monster steelhead. Unfortunately, all he caught was some yellow perch and rock bass, but it was nice to spend the day with him down on the dock. I saw Erin a few times at Wilma's as we made plans for Thanksgiving. She seemed to particularly enjoy talking with me while I split firewood out by the shed. It was hard work, and I was often drenched with sweat by the time I was done, but she didn't seem to mind. And she worked while we talked, helping to stack the larger pieces and collecting the smaller ones for kindling. The one point of contention in our plan was how Erin would get to Wilma's on Thanksgiving Day. She was slated to work a 12-hour shift the evening before, ending at seven in the morning, and she worried that if she went home to rest, she would sleep through the entire day. Her solution was to drive out to Wilma's after her shift and catch a few hours of sleep when she got there. I thought that driving that far after working all night seemed like a terrible idea, so I offered to give her a ride instead. She did not like that one bit. "I don't want you to make an extra trip when I am perfectly capable of driving myself." It sounded like she was digging in for a fight, so I tried a different tactic to convince her. "I need to stop at the hospital anyway, to return Lane's crutches. I can kill two birds with one stone and pick you up at the same time." She didn't buy that rationale either so, reluctantly, I resorted to the truth. "I am sure you're a great driver, but if you drive yourself, I will be up that morning anyway, worrying that you are safe. I know it doesn't make sense, but I have been looking after my siblings for so long its second nature for me to worry, and I can't seem to turn it off. So please, let me pick you up. But for me, not for you. And do you know how rarely I get to be gallant these days? I will feel like your knight in shining armor." That finally got a laugh from Erin. "Alright, you win. Why don't you pick me up at 7:15 at the hospital? You can sweep me up onto your trusty steed and carry me away to Gran's house." "If by trusty steed you mean rusty old GMC truck, then it's a deal." The morning of Thanksgiving dawned chilly and gray, with a cold wind blowing in off the lake. I was up early to make sure that I made it to the hospital on time, and I was listening to the local AM country station as I drove when the DJ started his break. "A happy Thanksgiving to all our listeners. If you're on the roads today, be aware that there is a severe weather warning in effect for the area north of Cadillac and into the upper peninsula. We're expecting a combination of high winds and lake-effect snow to make driving hazardous, and you should be prepared for possible power interruptions and outages." I was relieved that Erin had agreed to let me pick her up and that I had invested in good snow tires for my pickup. The snow had already started by the time I reached the hospital, and I pulled my jacket tightly around me as I went inside. I dropped Lane's crutches with the duty nurse and waited for several minutes before Erin arrived. She looked exhausted, and the gentle smile that I loved was nowhere in evidence. "Hey, Erin. Are you okay?" "I'm fine. I just had a long shift, but I am ready to head out." She came up to me and gave me a hesitant look. "Actually, I could really use a hug if that's alright." Without a word, I wrapped my arms around her, and she buried her face in my sweater. Hidden from the world by the folds of my jacket, I felt her body start to shake. The tremors lasted for a minute before they gentled and then finally stopped. I looked out the window at the falling snow to give her a moment to compose herself. "Let's head to Gran's house. This weather isn't going to get better any time soon." With that, we got in my truck and started the drive up to Good Hart. Erin sat in silence and looked out the window. "If you want to talk, I probably can't help with doctor problems; but I am a good listener." It took Erin a minute before she opened up. "Most of the time, I love being a pediatrician. Kids come to me scared and in pain, and I help them to get better. But sometimes, it's just too much. Around midnight last night, an ambulance brought in a mother and daughter. Her boyfriend had been drinking; and he got violent. The little girl tried to protect her mother and; and; "It's one thing to treat a grown woman, you know. I mean it's still pretty bad, but; that little girl. Fuck. One thing I've learned from this job is that monsters are real." I wanted to give Erin another hug, but since I was driving, I just reached over to take her hand. "I'm sorry." My words seemed so incredibly inadequate; considering what she had just dealt with; but she squeezed my hand. "Thanks for listening." We drove on in silence, and by the time we pulled into Wilma's laneway, Erin was gently snoring with her head against the window. I stopped as close as I could to the house before lifting her out of the cab. She tucked her head into my shoulder, and I carried her inside, where Wilma was already busy in the kitchen. She came out to greet us, and I spoke to her in a low voice. "Erin had a very tough night. I think some rest will do her a world of good." Wilma helped Erin out of her boots and coat and then showed us through to the guest bedroom, where I laid Erin on the bed. The room was filled with pictures of Erin from when she was younger; standing on the dock with an older but handsome man who I guessed must be Phillip, curled up in a ball on the sofa, book in hand, and smiling in her cap and gown as she graduated. In each picture, I could see hints of the beautiful woman she would become. By the time I returned with the rest of my family, the storm had begun to pick up. Snow drifts were accumulating against the house and shed, so we brought everything with us into the house that we might need for the evening. It took some convincing, but Sharon and I took over in the kitchen while Wilma, Alison, Mary, and Lane started a game of Scrabble in the living room. Once the preparations were well underway, I laid in as much wood for the fireplace as I could. With the high winds and heavy snow, I was worried that we might lose power, and I wanted to make sure that we prepared, just in case. The radiators and boiler would provide almost no heat if there was a prolonged power outage, but the fireplace had a high-efficiency insert that would keep the house warm, as long as we built up a good bed of coals. Lane insisted on helping me with the firewood, and after a half dozen trips to the woodshed and back, we both looked like live-action versions of the abominable snowman. Wilma showed some sympathy for our plight, while our sisters had a good-natured laugh at our expense. By the early afternoon, dinner was almost ready, and Wilma sent me to wake Erin. She had barely moved since I had tucked her in and seemed so peaceful in her sleep. I leaned over and spoke softly to her until she opened her eyes. After a moment of confusion, she broke into a shy smile. "I guess we made it to Gran's." "That we did, we got here close to six hours ago." Her eyes flew open, and she tried to get up until I reassured her. "We've got things under control. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Take your time; and maybe give yourself a few minutes for that pillow line on your cheek to fade." I turned to leave, so she could have some privacy, but she reached out and took my hand. "I just wanted to say thank you again for earlier. I am not used to having someone I can talk to; someone I can trust. It's only been Gran and Grampy, and me for so long, and I didn't want to burden them. But I shouldn't have dumped my troubles on you like that, we barely know each other." "I was just glad that you felt comfortable enough to share how you felt with me. Today was probably the worst day of that little girl's life. I am sure she was terrified, confused, and in a lot of pain. But what she'll remember is the angel who comforted her and treated her with kindness and love. "I need to get back to the kitchen, or I will burn something. Fair warning, this is my first time cooking a Thanksgiving turkey, so you may want to load your plate up with fixings and sides, just in case." As it turned out, the turkey wasn't perfect, but it wasn't that bad, and the gravy was tasty as heck (probably because Wilma made it.) We had mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, and peas as sides, with the obligatory cranberry sauce (from a can). The conversation at dinner was a chaotic mixture of laughter, stories, and the kind of teasing that you only get when you bring five siblings together over a hearty meal. It didn't take Erin long to choose a side in the battle of the siblings, and soon, it was the four girls against Lane and me, with Wilma as our impartial referee. I don't know how Lane felt, but for me, it was worth being ganged up on just to see Erin and my sisters smiling and laughing. Although he tried to hide it, it was clear that Lane still had a bit of a crush on Erin, so I imagined that he was just fine with making her smile as well. For dessert, Erin brought pumpkin and apple pies that she had bought at the bakery in Petoskey, which we ate with some vanilla ice cream from the local creamery. I was sure there would be some dessert left over, given the amount that we all ate for dinner, but somehow, we finished it all. Everyone pitched in with the dishes and then we moved to the living room where we played cards and some more board games. As we played, Mary asked Wilma about some of her more memorable Thanksgivings, and she got a faraway smile. For the next hour, she regaled us with stories of humble times with the kids by the lake and, in later days, fancier celebrations with some of the families that Phillip befriended while they sat for portraits. As our last game of Scrabble ended, Sharon looked at Wilma with a mischievous grin. "Mary was telling me about the dance party that you had a few weeks ago here in your living room. Rumor has it that my big brother can dance! I was hoping, if you asked him nicely, that we could all see him in action." Wilma got up from her chair and started to move toward the hall closet. "Lane, come along and help, please. I am far too old to be carting around a heavy record player." Lane hopped up and went to help Wilma, while the rest of us began to move the furniture out of the way. As Lane set up, Wilma admonished the rest of us. "Remember, there is only one rule about dancing in my house: no wallflowers." With that, Lane started the first song, and I asked Wilma to dance. Alison followed suit, asking Lane to dance, and soon she was teaching him how to lead. Finally, Erin stood as well and gave a deep bow to Mary. "It would be my honor, enchanting lady, if I could have this dance." With a laugh, Mary stood, and soon we were all moving around the room, trying not to bump into each other or step on each other's toes. For the next hour, we danced, laughed, and pretty much forgot about the world outside. Lane even got up the courage to dance with Erin, although he stayed so far away from her that you would have thought she was radioactive. I took a couple of turns with Erin and was amazed at the way she melted into my arms. When we danced, there was a wave of knowing smirks from my sisters and a pleased smile from Wilma, but I didn't care. I could have danced with her all night. Unfortunately, during my third dance with Erin, the real world decided to interrupt our festivities. Erin and I had just started a turn when the power went out. I instinctively pulled Erin into my arms to protect her, and then I leaned in through the darkness and kissed her. She returned the kiss, ran her hand through my hair, and let out a small moan. "Do you think the power will come back on?" Lane's question cut through the fog of my lust and longing. "Probably not until sometime after the storm has passed. So, we should all plan on spending the night here and then figuring things out in the morning." With Wilma's agreement, we got settled in for the evening. After some protest, Wilma agreed to sleep in the guest room since it had a direct line of sight to the thermoelectric stove fan that helped circulate the heat from the fireplace. My three sisters slept in Wilma's bed, both to share body heat and because it was the larger of the two beds in the house. Lane slept on the couch, while Erin and I slept on the floor in front of the fireplace. Erin laid out an older sleeping bag, for comfort, with some bedding and blankets on top. In deference to Lane, she waited until she was under the blankets before she shimmied off her pants, while I stoked the fireplace. I made one more pass through the house, to check on Wilma and my sisters, but it seemed they had already fallen asleep. Even Lane had passed right out, despite his proximity to the pants-less Erin. I set a quiet alarm on my phone for two-hour intervals so that I could get up and add wood to the fire, ensuring that it would last all night. Looking down at the makeshift bed where Erin was watching me, I suddenly felt incredibly shy and anxious. I took my sweater and pants off as quickly as I could and set them on a chair before crawling under the blankets next to her. I didn't want to be presumptuous, so I stayed as far over to one side as I could. I had just settled in when I heard Erin's soft voice from behind me. "You can come a little closer. I won't bite, you know." My brain froze with indecision, but my heart knew the score and it started beating at a furious rate. I heard her shifting behind me, and I felt an arm wrap itself around my chest. My senses were on fire. The faint scent of lavender from her hair washed over me like a field of wildflowers. "Was everyone safe when you made your patrol?" I slowly rolled over so that my forehead was lightly touching hers, and I could see the flickering of the fire reflected in her eyes. "I know it's silly, but I can't sleep until I know that everyone I love is safe. Even when she is away at college, Alison texts me each night to let me know she is okay. I will make another round later after I stoke the fire." "It's not silly at all; I feel safe when I'm with you too.  Why don't you tell me your story, Davis Crawford." She must have felt me stiffen, and she started to lightly brush her fingertips through the hair on the back of my neck. "You don't have to if you're not comfortable with me yet, but I would like to hear it someday when you're ready." We sat in silence for another few minutes, while the tension slowly drained from my body. It had been over 15 years; since before the drugs and alcohol got too bad with my mother; since someone had touched me with kindness and love, and I was helpless before the gentle onslaught of Erin's fingers. Eventually, I started talking. "Things weren't always bad with Mom; I remember there being more laughter than anger when I was little. She was very beautiful, and there was a procession of men in her life, even back then, but most of them treated me well. I guess they wanted to make a good impression on her. When I was four or five, though, she took up with a man from a rougher crowd. She started in with the drinking and drugs, and they never really stopped. She got pregnant with that man, and Alison was born. From there, it was like a rock sliding down the side of a hill. It starts slowly, but soon it's rolling downhill in leaps and bounds. "After Sharon was born, fewer men came around. My mom was still beautiful, but how many guys are interested in a single mother who has three kids from three different men? I had just turned ten when she left me in charge for the weekend and flew down to Vegas with some friends from the club where she waitressed and danced. A bit more than nine months later, she had Mary. "The one thing I can say for my mom is that she mostly managed to stay clean while she was pregnant. But once Mary arrived, the hill got steeper, and the rock started plummeting downwards. As fewer men showed an interest in her, Mom had to blame someone, and we kids were handy targets. That's when the hitting started. I learned pretty quickly that she didn't much care who she hit, so I made sure that I was always close at hand, to try and spare the little ones. If she was going to throw plates at someone, I figured it had better be me. "By the time I was 12, I was the only one caring for my siblings. When Mom came home drunk or stoned after her shift at the bar, I would steal enough of her tip money to buy food for my sisters' lunches. That was the worst of it, and I didn't think that we would make it through. I am not sure we would have without our landlord, Mr. Johnson. "He lived in the apartment below us and would take us in on the weekends when my mother was out with her boyfriends, feed us dinner, and let us watch a little television. I never found out why he lived such a lonely life, but he helped me keep our family together until I was old enough to handle things myself, so I will always be grateful to him." I could see tears starting to pool in the corner of Erin's eyes. "You don't need to hear the rest of this;" Erin stopped me mid-sentence by kissing my lips. "You never got to be a kid, Davis. My whole life I felt sorry for myself because my parents didn't want or care for me, but at least I had Gran and Grampy. You had no one." Even though we were lying on an old lumpy sleeping bag on a rough hardwood floor with only a fireplace for heat, I had never felt safer in my life than I did with her right then. To be continued in part 3. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 3 Being naughty can be a very good thing, if he needs help getting jolly. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "Just when I thought it couldn't get better;" Ginny sighed, lost in bliss. "You certainly know what a woman wants." "I aim to please." Santa said cheerfully, putting one arm around her waist and holding her close while he guided the sleigh. "Think we might've sated you for a while?" "Hmm, maybe for a bit, right?" she purred, stretching like a cat before sitting forward and looking down over the earth, lit by clusters of lights that punctuated the darkness of Christmas Eve. It wasn't long before she began to giggle. "Schilling for your thoughts." Santa said, giving her tit a squeeze. "Well, you probably don't remember, but we've met before," she mentioned lightly, turning her head to wink at him. "I sure remember it." "Oh? Do tell." "Well," she said casually, her thoughts drifting back. "I was sixteen and my girlfriends and I were at the mall. We saw you and decided to sit on your lap. So Cari and I were sitting on you at the same time, squirming our asses on you and kept whispering naughty things in your ears, things we wanted to do to you, you know?" Santa didn't respond for several moments. "See?" Ginny said, smirking. "Told you that you didn't remember." "What; was the date of that, Virginia?" he asked warily. "December fifteenth, eight years ago, about seven-thirty pm," she said. "I still have a photo. Why?" "Because I wasn't in your city on December fifteenth eight years ago," he said with reluctance. "I was in Lahina on Maui, judging a naked limbo contest at a luau." She was silent for some time. "You're; you're sure?" Santa nodded. "Oh, God;" Ginny whispered, her eyes distant. "That means that Cari and I were grinding on some creepy mall Santa; oh, shit, I could feel him getting hard and everything!" Ginny scrunched her face up in revulsion and was flapping her arms in horror. "Oh, God. Blah! Blah! Blah!" Santa's roaring laughter echoed through the darkness as his date for the evening struggled to not puke off the side of the sleigh and onto the unsuspecting town below. Silent Runnings. She always kind of assumed that the sleigh made little or no noise when it touched down on a roof. After all, what kept some survivalist gun nut from trying to blow Santa away with his collection of automatic rifles when he heard some noise he couldn't account for? The sleigh glided silently onto the roof, the blades letting out little more than a hiss and the patter of the reindeer's hooves barely audible. Santa leapt out lightly and assisted her in exiting the sleigh before grinning at her. "Now, I won't be long, just hang tight and stay near the sleigh, if you're within the Gellar Field, you'll keep warm, alright?" Ginny raised an eyebrow in his direction, nonplussed. "Um, 'excuse me? I'm here with Santa Fucking Claus on Christmas Motherfucking Eve. How many times can a girl say that? If you think for one second I'm not delivering presents with you, then you're even more stupid that Krampus. I'm coming." Santa seemed hesitant. "Virginia, I've been at this since Proto-Hittite times, one way or another. I'm kind of an expert and I don't want you to hurt;" "Oh, get real," she snorted, pushing past him toward the chimney. She was glad to note that the 'Gellar Field', whatever the hell that was, seemed to be keeping her warm at this distance. "If your fat ass can fit down a chimney with that huge bag, so can mine." She clambered over the lip of the chimney and eased herself down inside it. Santa watched silently as she wriggled out of sight. There was no noise for several seconds. Finally Ginny spoke, her voice coming up the flue. "Okay, kinda stuck here, with my nose pressed into my own asshole. Little help?" Santa chuckled lightly and reached for a can of grease. Piloting a Ginny. "You're getting better at this, I must say," Santa remarked as he rummaged through his bag of presents while Ginny guided the sleigh. "Last person who drove the sleigh for me, the reindeer resisted a lot. They like you." "Oh?" Ginny replied, twisting the reins slightly and veering the sleigh team southwest. "Who was she?" Santa cleared his throat. "Actually, it was Krampus. Well, he was Pete back then, and it was over six hundred years ago." It took Ginny a moment to recover from her shock and concentrate on guiding the sleigh. Fortunately, the reindeer seemed to know where they were going. "Six hundred;" "Yup," Santa confirmed. "The Belgian monks were still getting the recipe for Stella Artois right the last time one of my kids helped me out." "But what about all your wives you were telling me about?" she asked. "They must've been in the sleigh before." Santa shrugged. "Yeah, people have been in it, I've taken them places, but you and Pete are the only two who have ever helped me on Christmas Eve." She felt herself grow warm, and for once it wasn't because she was wet and horny. "I'm really helping you?" He nodded. "It may be that I'm late because of the donnybrook back at your place, Virginia, but that wasn't your fault, it's just what was meant to be. I was meant to be put behind and now you're meant to be driving this sleigh while I get organized. No matter how many me's there are out there, it won't make a difference unless you're here tonight. It's fated to be that way." Ginny didn't know what to say. She just calmly guided the sleigh, feeling a contentment she'd never quite known before. She was dimly aware of some other shadowy iteration of Santa's sleigh streaking by some miles to the north and waved absently. She couldn't explain why any of this made sense, but it did. She really was different after all. A house below them shone with a golden light in the dark and she turned the reigns easily to guide the reindeer in its direction. There were over a dense residential area, the streets lined with endless numbers of small homes and semis. They glided onto a roof and clambered out. She followed Santa and his present sack down the chimney. In spite of his bulk, he slid down the tight shaft in a way that made her cunt inexplicably wet. "Now that I think of it," she whispered as she wriggled down with him. "How do we get into houses where there's no chimney?" "It was a lot easier before central heating," he answered, almost upside down as he worked his way toward the ground. "For lack of a better term, it's just B & E, I guess. I've got the keys and security codes for every residence on earth." "Wow," she grunted as she twisted and wiggled, her tits squashed to her mouth. If they'd had more time she would have sucked on them for a bit as a reward to herself. "Even Kim Jong-Un?" "Yeah, but he's not getting anything you want to know about for Christmas," Santa muttered. "He's a very bad boy." "So, what, like a leaky bag of flaming panda shit?" she mused, occupying herself as she strained to keep up. "Because that's what he kinda deserves." "Christmas is the one night of the year we don't discuss politics, Virginia." Santa mentioned as he finally freed himself of the confines of the flue and dusted himself off. He helped Ginny out as well, smiling and kissing her nose as she held her off the ground. She blushed and let him put her down, moving to a corner of the living room and watching intently. The house they were in was not big, a modest home for a small family. Santa was rummaging around in his bag, absently noshing on the cookies left on a table near the tree. The tree itself was rather sparse on gifts, something Santa seemed to be rectifying. Ginny didn't notice the other person in the room until it was too late. "So there you are, big man;" Ginny started at the voice but Santa merely stood and turned around, smiling warmly. At the entrance to the room was a woman in a robe. She was older than Ginny, but not more than in her late twenties or early thirties. She had the look of a tired mom. "Been waiting a long, long time to prove to myself that you were real and the presents I couldn't account for just came out thin air," she sighed, nodding. She had sandy-brown hair, done in a long bob. Her face was pretty enough, but you could see in her eyes that sleep was more of an afterthought than anything. "But here you are." "It's good to see you, Linda." Santa said warmly, moving toward her and hugging her. She sighed as he embraced her and Ginny smiled, knowing exactly how content and relieved Linda felt at the moment, whoever the hell she was. "Whoa, did I just get jealous of some girl hugging Santa?" "I can't believe you're here in all your chubby glory," Linda remarked, smiling up at him. "It's a dream come true." Santa nodded. "Little Karen's been very good this year, Linda. She's a real blessing. I brought her the puppy she wanted." Ginny frowned and looked down at a small object that was obviously a puppy, wrapped prettily in Christmas paper and sporting a golden bow on its snout. The puppy panted happily, curled up and went to sleep beneath the tree. "She'll love it," Linda said quietly, her eyes shining. "She'll be so thrilled." "I know she will." Santa said, smiling and placing a hand on Linda's cheek. "Sorry things didn't work out with Bob. He doesn't know what he's missing." "Thanks, I keep telling myself that too," Linda said, dabbing at her eye. "Have you got an STD for his stocking, maybe?" "No," Santa chuckled. "But you need to know that everything's going to be fine, Linda. You've made it this far, you're raising an amazing girl and you own this place now. If I could give you Mother of the Year, I would. But I can't, not my department, so that leaves me to ask; what do you want for Christmas, Linda?" Linda looked into his eyes before her hands reached down and began fumbling with his wide, black belt. Ginny shook her head and sighed, knowing exactly why Linda's reaction was so instinctual. The mother turned her head and seemed to notice the girl in the abbreviated elf costume for the first time. "Oh," she said, her hands still undoing the belt. "Is she your chaperone, to make sure we behave?" "No, she's not my chaperone," Santa said, smiling and shaking his head. "She's my indispensable helper, without whom Christmas wouldn't come this year." Ginny blushed at his description of her. "Oh, okay," Linda said, kneeling and shimmying his red pants down and freeing his monstrous cock. "As long as she doesn't interrupt me enjoying my present." Ginny blushed again, but this time the hair on the back of her neck went up and her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the wall and watched silently. Very silently. "Wow," Linda mused, taking his cock in both hands and staring at it. "Just when I thought nothing could get longer than that white beard of yours." Ginny blinked and frowned for a moment. White beard? It suddenly occurred to her that Linda was seeing the Santa she had always expected to see, a fat, jolly old man with a long white beard, rosy cheeks and the rest of the Dickensian nonsense. To Ginny, he still looked like the towering, red-bearded lumbersexual she knew him to actually be. Whatever sort of glamour he radiated, it worked even in sexual situations. Without a pause, Linda took Santa's thick cock into her mouth with a sigh and began bobbing back and forth along its length. Her wet lips formed a tight seal around the shaft, her hands holding on to Santa's thighs for balance. "She's doing that all wrong," Ginny sniffed to herself. "He likes it when one hand is pumping along the shaft behind your mouth and the other one is teasing his balls. I should know." Santa turned his head, smiled at her and nodded. Ginny blushed and shut up. He took Linda's head gently in his hands, caressing her hair while she sucked his cock, letting her take all the time she liked. She undid her robe with one hand, letting it fall to a puddle at her knees, now naked. She had a mom bod, Ginny noted, not bad, she was trying to keep herself fit, probably with Tae Bo and jogging or spinning, if she could find the time. Her tits were somewhat pointy, but she wasn't repulsive by any means. Ginny felt herself getting warm as she watched, one of her hands coming up to caress her tits while the other snaked down inside the short green skirt she was wearing and beneath her thong, teasing her understandably gooey cunt. She watched intently as Linda pushed farther and farther down Santa's seemingly endless shaft, breathing through her nose as she tried to reach the root. The hand she kept on his thigh for balance squeeze his pale flesh while the other was massaging her tits, pinching the nipples. She moaned around his cock as he grew harder in her mouth. Ginny leaned her head against the wall, trying to not make noise as she pleasured herself, fingers teasing through her slippery folds or circling her throbbing clit. The hand she had on her tits mimicked Linda's squeezing and pinching her nipples, causing little needles of stinging delight to shoot through her. Linda's hand moved down between her legs and her fingers began churning inside her cunt. She moaned loudly as she pleasured herself. Normally Ginny would have thought she'd wake her kid, but Santa probably had some weird sound-dampening field just to keep things like this from happening. Typical. Ginny bit her lip as she watched, her skin blushing pink as she worked herself into a silent frenzy, her wet core beginning to blossom as Linda sucked and bobbed on Santa's cock faster and faster; Both women let out a loud moan as they came, pleasure bubbling up through Ginny's body while her fingers worked madly inside her clenching, slippery tunnel. Her knees buckled and she went to the floor, still fucking herself. Linda grunted and began swallowing as Santa came, finally pulling her mouth off and panting heavily, jerking his throbbing cock frantically and splattering his pearly cum across her tits with great eagerness. Ginny slowly lifted her head, gazing at Santa and Linda through heavily-lidded eyes. She'd cum so hard just from fingering herself. Was it her proximity to Santa that caused all her sensations to be so heightened? Santa knelt as well, hugging Linda to himself and whispering in her ear. She slowly pulled her arms up and embraced him, smiling against his shoulder and nodding gently, her eyes still closed. After holding her for some time, her took her by the chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. "Okay, back to bed with you," he said gently. "You'll sleep very well tonight and Karen will come to wake you." Linda smiled dreamily and rubbed her nose against Santa's before giving it a kiss. She stood, slipped her robe back on, winked at him and left without another word. Santa watched her leave and nodded in satisfaction. "Just what she needed," he said to himself. "Okay, Virginia, I'm going to finish these last few presents and then we're; Virginia?" But Ginny was still kneeling, slumped to one side against the wall and snoring. Santa chuckled and finished the presents before picking her up and holding her limp body under one arm and his giant sack over the other shoulder before disappearing up the flue in the blink of an eye. Carnal Knowledge. "Taip! Taip! Mano Dievas!" Kuni moaned loudly as she sat on her sister's face, grinding her cunt eagerly down onto Minna's mouth. Her blonde twin clamped her arms around her sister's thighs tightly as she lapped hungrily at the slick lips above. Santa was kneeling between Minna's legs, holding them wide and thrusting back and forth, his cock plunging in and out of her. Ginny was leaning against the wall once again, trying to not look exasperated. The Lithuanian girls were writhing and grinding in a frenzy, clearly enjoying their early Christmas present. It wasn't like they'd crept down and surprised Ginny and Santa, as Linda had, they had actually written to Santa, saying that their parents were away for the holiday and they wanted him to come and fuck them for Christmas. They'd been waiting patiently in the living room when Santa and Ginny appeared out of the chimney, the twins wearing nothing but their little cheerleader uniforms. Minna groaned shamelessly while she lashed her Kuni's twat with her tongue, shuddering as Santa's iron-hard rod nearly split her in half. Ginny had to admit, the blonde twins had rocking bodies, trim and tight from whatever activities they were involved in. She'd have to get into P90-X or Crossfit if she was ever going to compete with these two. "Senelis!" Minna gasped, sliding a finger up inside her sister, which Kuni ground on shamelessly. She gyrated her hips, fucking back against Santa, her fingernails digging into her sister's ass cheeks as she endured the battering waves of pleasure. "Ah, Duok man sunku!" "Pasakykite pra¨ome;" Santa replied, smiling slyly. "Pra¨om!" Minna wailed, her body almost thrashing. "Pra¨om pra¨om pra¨om! Nekankink manęs!" Santa nodded and leaned forward, pressing Minna's legs almost back against her body, his weight over her now as he sank his cock down inside her. The blonde girl almost screamed in pleasure. Kuni grappled onto Santa's neck and kissed him greedily, churning her cunt down onto Minna's glistening face. "Unreal," Ginny muttered. "And I thought I was a relentless horny machine. But you, sir, take the cake." "I would expect you of all people to understand by now," Santa said cheerfully. "Minna and Kuni have been very good this year. They're both at the top of their class, they've been socially active regarding building homeless shelters, they're both” "Over the age of eighteen?" Ginny bit out. "It's Lithuania, that wouldn't matter," Santa pointed out. "They've been very good girls and I'm duty-bound to give them what they want for Christmas." "So no point deductions for incest?" Ginny asked somewhat testily. "There weren't for you and your brother, were there?" he replied while Kuni nipped at his skin. Ginny blushed again and stopped talking. She watched while Kuni pulled herself off her sister's mouth and hastily clambered around to lie on top of her, kissing her sister while squirming her wet cunt down on Minna's. She groaned loudly when Santa pulled out of the girl below and pushed deep inside her. "Dear diary," Ginny muttered. "Having a great time in Vilnius, watching Santa skewer Lithuanian sisters;" Santa grunted and pushed in hard, his hips trembling as he started to cum. Kuni and Minna screamed into one another's mouths, hips bucking furiously. He pulled out of Kuni and slammed back into Minna, filling her with cum as well before both sisters scrambled to their knees while he stood. They swallowed his cock greedily, taking turns pumping the shaft while the other sucked on it. They kissed around the throbbing cock, licking the pearly cum off one another's faces. "Esate labai geros mergaitės," Santa breathed, holding them both gently by the back of their heads while they sucked hungrily. "Keep up the good work and Santa will see you again next year;" "If we're not still here with these two whores next Christmas;" Ginny thought darkly. Santa’s copilot. Ginny was guiding the sleigh, but she kept looking back at Santa, trying not to smirk. He was sitting beside her, a rather blank stare on his face, his eyes a little red around the edges. "I'm still sorta hungry;" he said somewhat absently. "So you actually thought 'Colorado Gold' was a brand of flour used to make baked goods?" "Note to self," he murmured. "Do not eat the brownies left out for you in Denver;" Basement Bound. Ginny followed Santa as they crept down the stairs toward the basement apartment, a prismatic glow on the wall ahead of them indicating a tree was nearby. They rounded a corner and paused. A young man dressed in X-Men boxers and a white t-shirt almost walked into them as he rubbed his eyes. He stared at them for a moment, saying absolutely nothing. After a long, awkward pause, Santa reached back into his sack and pulled out a wrapped gift which he slowly handed to the kid. The kid took it equally slowly and unwrapped it, his eyes widening as several deluxe editions of the newest PC games were revealed. The kid smiled sheepishly and sighed. "Thanks, now that I know you're real." "You don't seem happy, Kevin," Santa said, obviously concerned. "You've been great all year and these are what you wanted, right?" "I; yeah, they are," sighed the kid. "At least, that's what I told everyone I wanted. My friends and I, we're all gamers, and this is amazing, but;" "But;" Santa pressed. "Well, Christmas is also my birthday," Kevin said. "Here I am, eighteen finally, and I still haven't had sex with a girl yet." Santa smiled. "Well, I normally deal exclusively in Christmas wishes rather than birthdays, but perhaps this year I can help you out there, Kevin." Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Virginia," Santa stated, looking at her. "I give you Kevin the Boy. Return unto me Kevin the Man." Ginny couldn't believe what she said next. "Thought you'd never ask, Big Red;" She walked forward and took the games out of Kevin's hands, tossing them over her shoulder. Santa grabbed them hastily out of the air as Ginny poked a finger into Kevin's chest and pressed him up against the wall. His eyes were wide, not at all sure what was happening. "Santa's already given you your Christmas presents," Ginny said as she knelt in front of him and tugged at his boxers. "Which means it's up to me to give you a happy birthday;" She pulled the boxers down and tossed them aside. His cock was limp but she could already tell it was swelling with excitement. Rather than teasing the poor virgin, Ginny stroked his shaft and slid her mouth all the way down, deep-throating him. Kevin shuddered and groaned loudly. "Make all the noise you want, you won't wake your parents upstairs," Ginny mentioned, pulling her mouth off his cock for a moment and pumping the shaft with her hand while she looked up at him. "The big man here has some sort of sound-dampening field or some shit so that he doesn't get caught busting into people's houses." Kevin's hands flattened against the wall and his fingers flexed as she slid her mouth down his length again before bobbing back and forth in a slow rhythm. She felt his fingers take her by the hair and begin kneading, lost in this clearly new delight. She hummed gently, vibrating her mouth around his sensitive skin. "Well, look at you," she remarked, smiling as she pulled back and gazed at his now hard and throbbing cock, glistening with the wetness of her mouth. "That's a nice dick you've got there, Kevin. You're a grower, I'm impressed." Kevin took a deep breath. "Maybe, but it doesn't look like much when it's limp. The one time I let a girl at school see it, I was nervous and it shrunk, so she was laughing at me." "Then I'll give you a tip before I fuck you, Kevin," Ginny said, stroking the shaft and spitting on it, to keep it moist while she instructed him. "Girls can be hideous cunts about that sort of thing sometimes, but they have their own insecurities. So never bring your insecurity to the ballgame. You need to be turned on and your Johnson here on the rise by the time you get naked for her." "Uh-huh?" he said somewhat uncertainly, shivering as she bent her thumb so that the pad pressed against the top of his mushroom head every time she stroked down. He couldn't believe this was happening. Some hot Elf-chick who looked like a Warcraft mod was blowing him! "So from now on, you dominate, you got it?" Ginny said. "Make her get naked or make her turn you on so that she can see how big your cock is before you ever get out of your boxers. No girl is gonna say no to this thing when it's fully inflated, I promise." "R-really?" Kevin asked. Ginny kept her eyes locked with his but reached down under her panties for several moment before bringing her fingers up for display. They glistened wetly in the dim light. "It's made me horny, champ. And because of that cock, I need to fuck you. You with me?" Kevin just thunked his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and nodded. "Oh, and don't worry about trying to last," Ginny added. "Being around the Red Machine makes you want to fuck and cum all night. You'll be fine." She swallowed his cock with a will, determined to give this kid the best first time anyone had ever had. Her hand followed her mouth along the shaft and she hummed, swirling her tongue along its length. The kid wasn't Santa, but this would be a perfectly good ride for any girl worth fucking once he had his confidence. Her free hand worked its way back inside her panties and began fingering, teasing her wet folds and slipping inside, getting her ready for the main event. "Umm, do you want to fuck me, Kevin?" she asked, smiling up at him. "Do you want to fuck my cunt good and hard?" "Uh; yes;" he whimpered. "Say it like you mean it, Thor," she insisted, pressing her thumb along the throbbing vein on the bottom of his thick shaft. "The girl wants confidence. This cock is worth your best effort." He took several deep breaths before looking down at her and nodding. "I want to fuck you." "You do?" she asked before sliding him back down her throat. "No," he said finally, taking her under the arms and pulling her up. Ginny exhaled suddenly as his cock popped out of her mouth unexpectedly and he spun her around to press up against the wall. "I don't want to fuck you; I will fuck you." "That's my boy," Ginny breathed, her eyes flashing with sudden lust and delight. She spread her legs and tilted her hips forward, eager to feel him inside her. "Fuck me good and hard, Kevin!" "K-zon," the boy almost growled, pressing his throbbing cockhead against her entrance. "My gaming tag is K-zon and that's what the girls will call me when I fuck them!" Ginny nodded eagerly. "Good. Give it to me, K-zon;" She moaned loudly as he pushed inside her, heedless of any sense of timing or technique, but eager to be deep in a woman. He squeezed her sides as he trembled, overcome by the wet, tight sensation of her cunt gripping him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and one leg slung over his hip as she looked into his eyes. Ginny began a pumping motion with her hips, sliding back and forth on his cock while K-zon was paralyzed by the flood of pleasure. "Alright, slugger," she whispered in a husky voice as she fucked herself on him. "Let's bust this first nut of yours quick, so you know what to expect. Don't hold back, just pound my cunt until you blow, got it?" He nodded as he buried his face in her shoulder and started pumping awkwardly with his hips, his whole body trembling. Ginny felt an unreal flush of heat coursing through her already, an intense orgasm building up inside. Holy shit, was she turned on and about to get off because she was mentoring a virgin? She pulled Kevin tight against herself and shivered, letting out a gasp while he moaned and jammed his hips up tight against hers, she could feel his cock twitching inside her as he spunked, Her own orgasm flooded over her, molten bubbles of ecstasy popping by the millions throughout her sweating, slick frame. He almost buckled at the knees, collapsing against her, panting like he'd run a marathon. Ginny smiled and caressed his hair, feeling his still-hard cock throbbing inside her. She ran her fingers over his cheek and looked into his eyes. "Ready to keep going?" she asked. "Second one's usually even better." He nodded and she pulled him down to his knees while she got on all fours, wiggling her invitingly. She winked back at him. "You know what to do, K-zon," she purred. "Show me what you're gonna do to the girls this coming year;" Without another thought, he took Ginny by the hips and slid his cock deep inside her again. Ginny moaned loudly, lowering her head to the floor and pushed back against him. She felt him begin to push back and forth and matched his rhythm by squeezing her cunt muscles around him as he slid in. His fingers dug into her hips and ass cheeks delightfully. She could tell he might last a little longer this time, but not by much. Then again, she wasn't here to teach him to be a sex god, she was here to pop his cherry and give him a birthday to remember. "Umm, right there, big man;" she panted, surprised that she meant what she was saying. She wasn't just stroking his fragile ego, she was quite serious, because he was hitting a spot in her cunt that she really liked. He had a long enough cock that it touched her pleasure spot and he was just wide enough to pleasantly stretch her so that she knew she was being fucked properly. With confidence, this kid would be a good lay. Kevin slapped his thighs against her ass cheeks and she squeaked and yelped in response. Her gooey cunt clenched him tightly, utilizing those vaginal contractions she seemed to be so damned expert at tonight. "Fuck;" Kevin grunted as he pumped his hips, his chest now glistening with sweat. "This is so much better than my hand or a fleshlight!" "Uh, and you feel a lot fucking better than a vibe," Ginny panted, still face-down and ass-up. "You're gonna make them scream, K-zon;" He seemed encouraged by her words and pumped harder, determined to make Ginny and himself cum again. He seemed to have found his rhythm and fucked her steadily, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the unreal sensation of sex with a live girl. Ginny bit at the knuckle of her middle finger, aware of how flushed and warm her body was. She could feel her wetness trickling down over her stomach from her cunt, since her ass was perched in the air. The slick, sucking noises of her sex were unmistakable. "Oh, you're doing really good, K-zon," she said breathily. "You're gonna have me cumming again before long!" Kevin seemed to be beyond words as he merely nodded hastily and kept fucking her, eyes closed and back arched. The slapping noise of his thighs against her ass was a wet one now, since they were both sweating profusely. She could feel the damp perspiration in her hairline, her mouth open and she wiped at it when she realized she was almost drooling. "Yes, K-zon!" she gasped, using the name he wanted again, pushing back against him but still letting him control the action. "Fucking make me cum! Don't hold back! Uh, fuck!" Kevin jammed his hips against her suddenly and cried out, a sound that Ginny echoed half a second later. Rapture splintered through her as she came, feeling him slamming against her as he climaxed, his pearly offering now deep inside her. Through glassy eyes, she looked around for Santa, to see if he was watching, but he was nowhere in sight. Kevin seemed ready to fall over, exhausted, but she gently pushed backward until he sat on his behind with her in his lap, facing away. Slowly she turned around and laid him on the floor, his cock still deep inside her. She put her hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him, her nipples tracing little patterns over his chest as she did so. "That was amazing, K-zon," she said quietly. "A really great addition to my night." He was still breathing heavily but nodded at her. "Thanks. It was more than I could have hoped for. I;I guess it's been a busy evening for you this way?" "Well, you're my only virgin to this point, if that's what you're asking," Ginny sighed. "The big red machine has fucked me more times tonight that I care to remember and I was nearly raped to death by Krampus, so this was exactly the sort of change of pace I needed, you know?" She sat up, still straddling him and impaled on his cock, a thought occurring to her. "Hey, Big Red," she called out. "I just let him bust in me twice, do you have any fixes dated from yesterday?" A tiny white pill flew out of the other room. She caught it deftly in her hand and popped it in her mouth. "I'm getting good at this 'time-is-fluid' shit," she giggled to herself. "Maybe I'll teach quantum physics." "You don't need a glass of water or anything?" Kevin asked, looking up at her. "Trust me, Kevin, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's swallowing." Ginny replied, smiling down at him somewhat haughtily before carefully pulling herself off his cock, causing them both to shudder and moan quietly. She knelt over his waist and sucked on his cock, cleaning their mingled cum off him and then helping him to his feet. She slipped her thong back on while Kevin retrieved his boxers. They were just straightening themselves out when Santa appeared from the other room. "Did you enjoy your birthday present, Kevin?" he asked cheerfully. "Yessir," the newly-minted young man said. "Best birthday present anyone ever received." "Glad to hear it," Santa said, nodding. "And I know it doesn't compare to what Virginia just gave you, but I think you'll be pleased with your new rig I just set up. Five terrabytes of hard drive space, thirty-two gigs of DDR4 RAM, an overclocked quad-core CPU that'll put the i7 to shame, eight fans, a nickle and copper piping coolant system and L E D to make sure everyone knows you're in the house. Oh, and I've upgraded your server to be multi-line, WAN and load-balancing. You and your guild will never lag again as long as you host." Kevin's eyes went wide. "I've got fat pipes?" Santa nodded while Ginny shook her head, understanding none of this geek talk. It only figured that Santa was a giant nerd. Kevin looked like he might faint. "Well, I've just done what you deserved," Santa mentioned. "It's Virginia who should get the credit for your night being so spectacular." "Yeah," Kevin said, blushing and smiling at her. "Thanks." "My pleasure, trust me," she said easily. "Somebody have a pen I can use?" Santa handed her one and she looked at Kevin. "Your number, dude." Kevin managed to stutter out his number, which she wrote down on her wrist before nodding in satisfaction and giving the pen back to Santa. "Alright, if I ever happen to be in Ohio for some godforsaken reason, I can look you up and give you a booty call. Sound good?" Kevin nodded dumbly. "Just remember this," she said, poking him in the chest, her voice serious. "You've got a lot to learn still. You've got a nice cock between your legs, don't treat it like a Louisville Slugger and just beat the hell out of her with it, you're better than that." He nodded. "And if a girl wants you to fuck her, she'll give you signals, so watch." Ginny added, poking his chest with her nail. "Don't assume you can just force yourself on anyone or next year it's dead spiders in your stocking, you got it?" Kevin nodded again. "Excellent," she said sweetly. "Now go to sleep, champ. Merry Christmas and happy birthday. C'mon, Santa, we have a holiday to save!" "Yes, my lady!" Santa laughed, following her out of the basement. They were back on the roof when Santa smirked at her as they climbed into the sleigh. "Dead spiders in the stocking?" She shrugged. "Isn't that what you'd give a guy if he forced himself on a girl?" "Well, no," he replied as he snapped the reins and they took off into the cold night air. "That's more of a legal issue. If he was considering it, I wouldn't have mentioned dead spiders, I'd' have been more inclined to point out that he'd spend the next few years in a cell as some fat, greasy tattooed bastard's buttery cornhole." The sleigh lurched to one side as Ginny burst out laughing. A Pretty Man. Santa stared awkwardly, making a wry face while Ginny stood off to the side, smirking. Standing in front of Santa was a very pretty young man in pale pink pajamas, his hands behind his back, one knee turned in, twisting his toe into the rug and blushing expectantly. Ginny wiped a tear away from her eye, she was trying so hard not to laugh. "Yeah, that ain't happening." Santa said finally. "But I've been so good;" the young man cooed, smiling coyly and winking. "C'mon, Santa," Ginny urged, clearly enjoying his discomfiture. "He's been so good, and you always reward your good children, don't you?" "Nice try, lady," Santa said, pressing behind his ear, apparently activating a communicator. "Get Agent 641 to me, I need a pinch hitter, stat." Santa threw a small disk on the floor while Ginny and the young boy in pink watched curiously. The device oscillated and expanded, becoming a larger disk. Seconds later it began to glow and hum. A column of rainbow light radiated up from it and a kneeling shape appeared. Seconds later, the rainbow light faded away and a lithe, comely figure stood. He had the same slender, beautiful features as the warrior-elves who had fought earlier that night, his eyes a piercing violet color, his impossibly long raven hair held in gold rings. His pale body was naked except for a tiny thong. "Holy shit snacks;" Ginny breathed as she gazed stupidly at the new arrival, feeling her thong get wet. "Ylmarin, young Trevor here has been an extra-good boy, perhaps you'd care to reward him?" Santa suggested as the inhumanly graceful being stepped off the platform. The tall being looked down at the young man named Trevor, assessing him and then nodded. "Yes, sire, I can absolutely do this." Trevor blushed furiously and giggled, covering his face. Ylmarin reached over and took the boy's hand before leading him back to the bedroom. Santa nodded and began rummaging around in his toy sack, putting items under the tree. "Okay, we got that out of the way," he said, squatting and putting items under the decidedly pink-lit tree. "Virginia, if you could hand me the, Virginia? Ginny?" He frowned and turned to look for his helper, finally sighting her. She was standing in the doorway to the bedroom and looking in. One of her hands squeezing her tits while the other had snaked down inside her panties. "Alright, go on, you little voyeur." Santa chuckled, shaking his head. "Yum yum!" she squeaked and skipped into the room, from which moans were now emanating. Seeking to be naughty. "You weren't worried about being on the Naughty List if you waited up for me?" Santa asked the dark-haired girl as she sat on her floor, watching him intently. She pushed her glasses up her nose and shook her head, pretty curly locks spilling over her shoulders as she did so. "Not worried, hmm?" he mused, observing her. "So you think you're already on the Naughty List?" The girl nodded. Ginny blinked and pursed her lips. "Why isn't she talking? Is she mute or doesn't she speak English?" Santa shook his head. "No, Ellie's just shy. She doesn't speak much at first, but once she gets going;" He knelt down in front of the girl and smiled. "Well, here I am. What is it you wanted to ask me, Ellie?" The tan girl turned her head and looked down at the floor sheepishly for several seconds before working up the nerve to speak. "I; I want my daddy, Santa." Ginny blinked. "She what, wants him back from deployment for Christmas, she wants her father to move back home;" "No, Virginia," Santa said cheerfully. "She doesn't want her father, she wants her daddy." "Oh," Ginny said, suddenly understanding. "So, now what?" "That's all she wanted for Christmas, so we give her, her daddy." Santa said simply. The girl's eyes lit up in delight and she sat up straight, looking very excited. Santa pointed behind Ellie and she turned to look behind herself; Her daddy stood in the doorway, his green-hazel eyes mirroring her excitement and a big grin on her face. His long, sandy-blond hair fell down to his shoulder blades. "Daddy!" Ginny squealed as she scrambled to her feet and threw herself against her daddy, kissing him feverishly. He held her tight, returning the kiss while she began pulling his clothes off him. "I missed you so much!" "Missed you too, baby;" he murmured through the kiss as he pulled her top off, exposing her lush tits. "I never had a daddy." Ginny sighed as she watched the couple get increasingly naked and feeling the now-familiar tingle building. "I should take care of that at some point." "I've got some other deliveries in the immediate area," Santa mentioned. "How about I go take care of them while you have a little fun with these two?" "Well, I'm not attracted to girls." Ginny said in a non-committal tone. "You just didn't know you were until tonight." Santa replied, smiling. "Just trust me on this, Virginia." "Well, like you said earlier, I've had you inside all my orifices, so what's the harm in trusting you now, right?" she admitted, shrugging. Would being bisexual be such a bad thing? It certainly widened her options for dating. Santa nodded and walked out of the room. Ginny turned to look at the couple she was left with, who were already splayed out on the rug, naked and pleasuring one another. Ellie was lying on top of her daddy, facing down his body and sucking on his cock hungrily while he was pulling her slippery cunt lips apart and sliding his tongue up and down her twat, making her shiver and moan. "Fuck it," Ginny said finally, stripping out of her skimpy outfit and walking up to the two of them. She laid down beside Ellie's daddy and smiled at her, both their heads over hips. "Feel like tag-teaming, babe?" Ellie looked up for a moment and nodded readily. Ginny smiled and leaned in, flicking her tongue against the tip of his cock. The curly-haired girl giggled and joined Ginny in teasing the throbbing cock, taking turns sliding their tongue up and down the shaft while the other swirled her tongue around the head and took it into her mouth, starting to bob up and down. Ginny felt herself getting really wet and pressed her lips to Ellie's around the head of her daddy's cock, kissing her. They both moaned as their tongues tangled around the glistening head. Ginny's hand slipped into the girl's hair, wrapping in it to hold her in place. Ellie smelled like strawberries and Ginny felt herself getting wetter as she took in the scent. "Daddy," whimpered the girl. "Fuck me;" Ginny knelt up while the other girl straddled her daddy's hips, facing down his body. Her sticky cunt was positioned over his throbbing cock and Ginny took hold of it and guided it home. Ellie sighed almost in relief as she sank down, his cock filling her. Smiling wickedly, Ginny made Ellie lie back along her daddy's body and the girl gasped as her put his hands on her tits and held her. As Ellie and her daddy began to squirm and writhe, her glistening cunt swallowing his cock greedily, Ginny bent down and tongued at the shaft as it slid back and forth through her lips. She pressed her thumb gently on Ellie's clit, causing her to shudder and moan loudly. Then her tongue traced a slow route around the engorged cunt lips, teasing her new girl lover. Ellie whimpered and panted, begging her daddy to fuck her harder. Ginny sucked Ellie's clit into her mouth and was rewarded with a strangled cry from above. She fondled the sac in front of her gently and pressed on the throbbing vein. Her cunt was getting wetter with each passing moment and she needed to know if Ellie would share; Without another word, she crawled over Ellie and settled down on top of her, her tits squashing into the succulent set below. She moved around until she felt her cunt pressed to Ellie's and the magical, rhythmic motion of the cock still pumping in and out of her. She shuddered as their lips and clits met and they wrapped their arms around one another, kissing shamelessly. Tongues snaked and writhed as they moaned into one another's mouths. "Daddy," panted the younger girl. "Fuck Santa's elf-girl; fuck her please;" Ginny felt her own ferocious desire rising as the cock slurped out of Ellie and pressed against her. She groaned gutturally as she felt the head penetrate and then she pressed down eagerly, taking it deep inside her. Still sandwiched between them, Ellie took one of Ginny's tits and sucked the nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. Ginny arched her back and hissed through clenched teeth, squeezing hard on the invading cock. She ground down on Ellie's daddy, gyrating her hips and her fingers digging into the other girl's skin. Ellie sucked and bit her nipples, the delicious sting heightening her ecstasy. She body was streaming with sweat while he fucked her, Ellie's soft flesh undulating against hers. She could hear him panting and feel him stiffening and knew what happened next. With great haste and even greater reluctance, she pulled herself off the cock and knelt, pulling Ellie up into a kneeling position. She helped her daddy stand quickly while Ellie took his cock and pumped it eagerly with her hand. Once he was standing, they both attacked his cock with their mouths and hands, pleasuring him beyond endurance. He put his hand on the back of their heads and groaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he came. Both girls pressed their faces in, letting him spurt on their mouths and cheeks, hands still working the shaft quickly. The warm, sticky cum brought with it a warm flush of memories, how it always felt on her skin, the tingling, scintillating pleasure she always felt in the ardor of others. Ellie's soft tits pressed to hers, their cheeks meeting as they accepted the pearly offering, on their chins and now glazing their tits; she loved it all. She was never happier than when she was in the throes of passion with others. Was this what she was truly meant to do? Was this a Christmas epiphany? Ellie and Ginny began kissing hungrily, licking the cum off one another's faces with a fervor, then off each other's neck and tits. They returned their attention to the still twitching cock, kissing and sucking it dry. Once Ellie's daddy was spent, she laid him down and Ginny helped her snuggle into his warm, loving embrace. The girl smiled at her and giggled before blowing a kiss. Ginny gathered up her outfit and exited the apartment quietly. Not surprisingly at this point, the sleigh was just pulling back onto the roof as she arrived. Santa smiled at her. "So did you know I was bi all these years?" she asked as she clambered into the seat and beside him and snuggled into his side as they took off. He nodded. "Not my place to rob you of your journey of self-discovery, though." "Maybe," she sighed. "But think about all the fun I've missed out on, not playing with girls too. Doubling the size of my dating pool might have made a difference." "You've always been who you're meant to be, Virginia," he said cheerfully. "And your little epiphany tonight is going to have big implications in the year to come. Trust me." Her eyes widened. "For real?" "Would I lie?" Santa laughed. Ginny in the sleigh. Ginny was lying back in the plush red seat of the sleigh, her chest heaving as she stared at the pre-dawn sky. Her little elf-outfit was almost in shreds and she was missing one of her shoes. Even Santa looked a little worn. "So that's what sex with an entire sorority house feels like;" she said distantly. "Kinda gives me a new respect for those college quarterbacks. Those girls are animals." Santa nodded. "I have to admit, that wore me out a little too, which is saying something. And before you ask, yes, they have all been good this past year and they sent me one letter asking for Santa to fuck them as a sorority, so that really was their Christmas present." Ginny nodded. "That and the four metric tons of vibrators, dildos, eggs, anal beads, ben-wa balls and lingerie I saw you drop off; and about thirty Sybians." "They're a really good sorority house." Santa admitted. Ginny just stared at the sky. "Hard to believe that you're brought up a certain way, being told that good kids act a certain way, only to find out that being a total mega-slut is not grounds for being added to the Naughty List but sneaking cookies when mom told you not to is." "I didn't make the rules," Santa said, shrugging, but then he paused. "Oh, wait; ya know, I probably did, a long, long time ago." Ginny giggled tiredly. "This has been the longest and most oversexed night of my life, and that's saying something for me. Where are we headed, Big Man?" "Well, it's almost dawn." Santa said, looking east. "I'm going to have to drop you off before long now that my rounds are done." "Yeah," Ginny said somewhat reluctantly. "Since I don't have a house, I guess you should drop me off at my parents' place. I can't exactly tell 'em that my house was destroyed in a massive battle between Santa's elves and Krampus, but maybe they'll believe a gas main exploded." "You can't lie, Virginia, we've been over this." Santa said firmly. "Well I can't really tell them the truth either, can I?" Ginny pointed out, hoping she didn't sound too quarrelsome. "I know;" he said quietly, still guiding the sleigh. The soared through the dark sky for some time, saying nothing. Eventually, Ginny began to make out shapes in the night, sleek silhouettes that looked almost like slender, jet-powered Skidoos, being ridden by beings in strange armor with glowing runes and wild mans of hair. "Just my guardians," Santa said in an assuring tone. "Making sure there are no last-minute attempts to thwart us." The earth far below them took on a white cast and Ginny knew that they were above a region covered in snow. She couldn't feel it, but she could sense the cold air around them as the sleigh angled down, heading to the ground. The landing was predictably smooth and they finally came to a stop, flanked by the jet bikes and their unsettling warriors. Santa jumped out and helped Ginny down, smiling at her and wrapping her in a warm, furry red blanket from head to toe. When he pulled it off her, she was no dressed in a stylish red velvet dress, trimmed in white and ending on her upper thighs to show lots of leg. Her calf-high boots were red and edged with white, with adorable little poms dangling from the side. She even had a white poof to keep her hands warm and the Santa hat she now wore kept her ears toasty. "You look beautiful," he said as he waved in front of himself to conjure an ice mirror that reflected her image perfectly. "And without you, Virginia, there wouldn't have been a Christmas this year. You need to understand that." Ginny blushed prettily and walked alongside him, petting the reindeers as she walked by. She even gave Donner a kiss on the nose and the beast snorted and blushed, pawing the ground. They walked casually through the snow, holding hands until they were approached by several people. Ginny's eyes went wide, these were all women, clad in black armor with baroque chest plates reminiscent of bustiers. They all wore their hair bobbed, universally black or platinum in color and they carried savage-looking rifles or flamethrowers. They all knelt reverently as Santa approached. "Do I want to know?" Ginny breathed. "My personal guard," Santa said, nodding to the women as he passed through them. "Orphan girls I've saved from a cruel world. They're fanatically devoted to me, even beyond my elves." Her mouth was somewhat dry when she asked the next question. "Do you; you know;" "Yes, Virginia," he said, saving her the difficulty of asking. "They're also my lovers. When they're not fighting for me or standing guard, they live in the bliss I seem uniquely capable of giving women." "That doesn't sound like such a bad life," Ginny said, a hopeful tone in her voice. "I mean, I'm no orphan, but I'd say we pretty compatible sexually. Aren't we?" He turned and took her gently by the arms, smiling warmly down into her eyes in that way that made her knees go weak. Other people may have seen the fat old jolly man, but she could see only the copper-haired and bearded giant with eyes deeper than a galaxy and a boyish smile that she knew she'd always love. "You're right, Virginia, you're not an orphan," he said quietly. "These girls had no future. I have no right to rob you of yours. And believe me, you don't want to miss it." He took her hand and kept walking, snow gently falling as they walked through the stands of tall trees. When they emerged on the far side, he grinned and gestured grandly in front of them. Ginny's eyes went wide. Across the clearing was her lovely home, looking as good as new. Squads of warrior-elves stood guard menacingly around the perimeter while other, smaller beings she more associated with the Christmas story elves scampered around, making final adjustments to the domicile. "Like the whole thing never happened," Santa declared. "And there are even some improvements, I might add." "Ya don't say," Ginny said somewhat absently, still staring in disbelief. All sign of the titan battle fought on her property less than twelve hours ago were gone. "Uh; improvements?" Santa nodded. "We added solar panels and some subtle wind turbines, so you can officially live off the grid. Water's hooked up to a local artesian well. Improved your internet connection, you get about two hundred megabits per second, not to mention the fact that we connected you to our servers, so the Tor Network and the Deep Web have nothing on you for security and anonymity." "Wow;" was all she seemed to be able to say. "Let's see, we reinforced the frame and the roof, you could probably get hit by a meteor and barely notice," Santa continued. "Windows are made of transparent aluminum, they're durable, to say the least." "No bugs crashing through my bay windows?" she asked. "Actually got a nifty physics trick for you there," he said, smiling. "Remember during the fight I put you against the South wall and said you were safe because they couldn't come from that direction?" She nodded. "Well, thanks to some space-time-bendy engineering, quantum beings can no longer approach your property except from the South, which they can't come by anyway." "I'll take your word for it about the physics." Ginny sighed, shaking her head. "Anything else?" He nodded. "You've got a new wine cellar, packed to the brim with some of the best vintages from all over the world and you've got a standing diamond membership in an exclusive club that will send you cases of wine free monthly." Ginny was feeling almost light-headed and she hadn't touched a drink for hours. "Oh, that patch of wild strain you found on your property?" he added. "You now have an off-the-grid, climate-controlled grow-op, currently raising on seventy plants, including Alaskan Thunderfuck, Northern Lights, White Widow and South African Genetic." She smiled up at him slyly. "Think you might stop by some time for a party?" "No," he said, holding up his hands. "Last time I got baked, Christmas went really weird. You've never seen so many confused children and strippers in your life. Thanks, I'll pass." She giggled. "Guess I'll just have to lure you back here with promises of tawdry sex, then." "Good enough for me." Santa agreed, nodding. "Oh, I almost forgot;" He pulled a small but gorgeous animal habitat out of nowhere and presented it to her. Ginny's eyes widened in shock. "Oatmeal!" she cried out in delight. Her bearded dragon was perfectly fine. "How?" "I might've pocketed him for safe-keeping during the initial brawl and then handed him off to my elves while you and I were blitzing around the globe." Santa admitted. "But I promise you he's perfectly healthy and his new habitat will keep him around for a long time." There were tears in her eyes as she leaned forward to the habitat and cooed at her lizard, who instead of darkening and vibrating his wattles at her, moved up to the glass and licked it, like he was trying to kiss her. "I don't know what to say," Ginny choked, trying not to cry. "All this for me? I'm grateful, but; why?" "You saved Christmas, silly," Santa replied, laughing cheerfully as he handed Oatmeal off to an elf for safe keeping. "How many times do I have to tell you? Virginia, without you, without everything you've done tonight, Christmas would not have come, no matter how hard I tried." He put his hand on her cheek and looked down into her eyes. "And you have no idea what that means to me;" Ginny's eyes were shining and her body trembling with emotion as Santa kissed her again, gently and lovingly. She'd never felt so appreciated, needed or loved in her entire life. She felt; complete. The kiss ended and as she drew back from it, she looked down, her eyes widening in utter shock at what she saw. There was a beautiful golden ring on her finger. "Now don't read that the wrong way," Santa said, giving her a wry smile as she looked up at him in disbelief. "It doesn't mean we're married. But there's an old Norse tradition where Woden, king of the gods and Vikings kings after him would give their most beloved retainers gold rings as a symbol of their esteem for them. That's what you mean to me, Virginia." "But it's not just a symbol of my esteem," he said, taking her hand so they could both look at it. "It's a way to talk to me, Virginia, to call me if you ever need me. If something's wrong, my elves can come help. If something's really wrong;" His next words melted her heart. "I'll always be there for you, Virginia. No person living aside from you has one of these. That's how important you are. And I will always love you." Ginny was still standing there in a stupor when he turned his head to look east, which was turning grey with the promise of dawn. "I'd better get going," he said, making some gestures and causing the elves to begin packing up their gear to leave. "It's not like I turn to stone or anything in the light, but I've gotta get home and start planning for next year, you know?" She nodded. "I know, you're a busy man, Kris. But do you; do you think I could ever come; see you?" He considered for a moment before smiling and nodding. "I'd like that, Virginia. We'll set something up and you can teach everyone at the North Pole how to really have a good time. Place gets a little stale on occasion." He clasped his hands over hers and kissed her cheek as the reindeer walked up, pulling his sleigh. She reluctantly released his hands and watched as the huge man leapt lightly into his ornate vehicle and grinned at her. She could barely keep the wonder from her voice. "Are; are you Woden?" she asked. "Woden't you like to know!" he laughed loudly, causing everyone nearby to do likewise at his jest. Even Ginny giggled, hiding her absurd smile inside the silver-white poof. She watched as he snapped the reins and the reindeer snorted and broke into a gallop, rapidly pulling away from the ground. Still rapt, Ginny waved as the sleigh became a silhouette against the lightening sky. "Merry Christmas, Virginia!" she heard him call. "I'll see you again next year!" Ginny turned and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and willing herself not to cry. When she opened them, they were glinting with a self-satisfaction she rarely felt. "I saved Christmas," she thought as she strode back into her house. "Love to see that bitch Suzie Langston pull that off;" One year later; The firm's Christmas party was a riotous success. The company was ending a banner year with record profits, in no small part due to the efforts of their newest senior partner and her incredible negotiating skills. Champagne, wine and schnapps flowed freely and even the office curmudgeons were having a wonderful time, dancing and celebrating the holiday. In old man Reese's office, a much more private but equally riotous party was happening. Ginny was panting and moaning as she squirmed up and down on Chad's cock while he fucked her cunt. Behind her, Roland from accounting was shuddering while he braced her by the hips as he pumped his cock in and out of her tight ass. Lying on top of Chad, yelping like she was being skewered, was Lily from the secretarial pool, trying not to scream as the strap-on that Ginny was wearing fucked her hard. Standing over Chad and Lily was old man Reese, who was trembling while Ginny sucked hungrily on his cock. She could feel her body shining with sweat from their exertions, but she knew she would make them all cum, harder than they ever had before. As brilliant a deal-maker as she'd turned out to be, it wasn't a patch on how good she was at fucking and making love. After all, she'd learned from the best. And she'd also learned a lot about herself in the year following that fateful Christmas night. True, living with Santa at the North Pole might have been fun, but now that she was living the future he'd told her about, she was happy to be right where she was, trembling, covered in sweat, impaled every possible way upon cocks and about to cum so hard she thought she'd faint. She moaned loudly as the orgasm crashed over her, bringing everyone else along with her. Lily wailed as she came, while Chad and Roland both shuddered and groaned, pumping their cum into her cunt and her ass simultaneously. Old man Reese grunted and clasped her hair, hips bucking as he pumped his offering into her mouth. Overcum with the bubbling, foaming lust within, Ginny swallowed hungrily before pressing the boss' cock between her tits and massaging it eagerly, watching in delight as it continued to pump, glazing her soft orbs. "My goodness, Virginia," the old man grunted, trying to hold himself still. "You're such a naughty girl." "Oh, no, sir," she purred, kissing at the head of his cock as it appeared between her tits before looking up at him, eyes shining, even while she writhed up and down on her lovers below. "No, sir, I assure you I have it on the highest authority that I'm actually a very good girl;" ~fin~ Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts for Literotica.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a California beach bodybuilder. Black blood glistened on his flawless skin as he maimed the attackers. Droplets that hit the carpet sizzled and ate through it, burning the hardwood floor beneath. "No!" Ginny wailed in despair. "Not the hardwood! I loved that feature!" She glared and gritted her teeth as she leaned over the railing and pointed the nerf gun down at the endless crowd on the main floor, pulling the trigger. The crackling arcs of energy enveloped several foes, who wailed and vanished. Same as before, the giant insectoids rarely disappeared but seemed slowed or staggered by the attack. Santa fought his way forward, forcing the attackers back from Ginny. Try as they might, no one got by him, even if it meant that they could strike at him instead. He took their assaults resolutely, using his body as a shield to protect her. Before long, the floor of the hallway was littered with bodies, some barely stirring, others not moving at all. Still, the foes swarmed up the stairs. One of the bug-things swiped at him with its vicious claws and he ducked under the blow before kicking his boot into one of the reverse-jointed legs, snapping it. The bug screeched and tumbled and he leapt onto its back, grabbing hold of one of the large, wet-grey chitinous plates that armored its back and pulled, it tore away with a mushy crack and the beast's keened agony as it shuddered and thrashed. Without pausing, Santa whirled around and slammed the exoskeletal plate across several men's heads, dropping them. Ginny kept firing the nerf tesla gun, wondering what sort of sociopath would invent a deadly weapon that looked like a famous kid's toy. She pushed it from her mind, realizing that she wanted to live and didn't care at the moment about the social mores of the issue. Santa was using the huge chitin plate almost like a shield, driving his foes back with it to the stairs. It finally cracked in half and he punched through the mess, unwilling to give the enemy time to regroup. He spun one man around with a fist across the jaw before grabbing his arms from behind and ramming his knee into the man's back, lifting him off the floor and letting him slam his spine onto the stairs. Without waiting, Santa launched himself through the air, knee raised and smashed it into the face of a man on the stair's corner landing. The foe's head went back through the wall with a loud crunch and he hung there limply, no longer part of the battle. "Ack!" Ginny squawked as the nerf gun sputtered and let out several impotent flashes and then died. "Not now! No no no!" One foe had broken through the cordon and now raced toward her. She yelled loudly and smashed the butt of her nerf gun into his face, staggering him for a moment. She glared at him angrily, waiting for him to fall, but her didn't, so she kicked him in the crotch with her instep. He groaned and sunk to his knees, holding himself. Ginny was practically jumping up and down on top of him by the time he stopped moving. "Stay; the; fuck; down!" she shouted angrily as she turned his ribcage into powder. She failed to notice the one last foe who rushed up behind her. But then Santa was at her side and he delivered a devastating haymaker to the man's thorax. Stunned, the intruder staggered back against the railing. With a growl, Santa grabbed him by the face and ruthlessly bent his back over the railing before leaping over and slamming his elbow across the man's neck as he went down to the main floor. The lifeless form crumpled next to him as he looked around, glaring. No foes remained standing. Aside from the music, all was quiet. "It is safe?" Ginny called from the gallery. "Are the scary guys and bug-thingies all gone?" "No," Santa said warily. "And the next wave is even bigger." "Great!" Ginny complained, tossing the useless nerf gun over the side. "And according to you, there's no one that can help us!" "I didn't say that," he countered, beckoning for her to come down the stairs and be near him for protection. "I just said there was no Easter Bunny." "No Superman either, apparently," she grumbled as she approached him, letting him put a huge arm around her possessively. He was, indeed, bigger than ever. She was practically child-sized next to him now. "So who the hell is there to help us?" "If help's arriving it had better get here soon," he said, taking her to the remains of her big glass bay windows and back door. The wind was howling as snow drove into the living room. What was left of it, anyway. Which was nothing. "It's now or never. Can you see them?" She peered into the darkness outside and a chill ran down her spine, hundreds of red and yellow glowing eyes could be seen in the darkness. And they seemed to be getting closer. "Do; do they see me?" she asked, swallowing nervously. "I'm sure they do," he said, grimacing. "Not going to take a chance and assume they don't. I'll do everything I can to protect you, of course." "Is; is that going to be enough?" She could hear the angry hisses and an evil chanting outside clearly now, getting closer with each moment. It pained Santa that he couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Virginia." She sighed and smiled weakly. "Well, at least I know there's a Santa Claus now. And he gave me the night of my life before it all ended." He returned the smile, trying to feign a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I don't;" Ginny faltered, trying to find the words. "I don't suppose that you'd; well; that you'd be willing to kiss me one last time? You know, before the end?" He turned to look down at her, his hands holding her arms with an unreal gentleness and a warmth in his eyes that comforted her even now. "Nothing would make me happier, Virginia." She smiled and closed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Santa." "Merry Christmas, Virginia;" he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her. Then the night was filled with high-pitched shrieks, a noise that made her eyes snap open. She'd heard noises like that before, once a long time ago in grade school. It sounds like the hissing passage of meteors above, and getting closer. Or what she imagined artillery sounded like when it was incoming, like in all those war movies. Santa's head turned and an almost evil grin crept over his face as he listened. "That's more like it!" he declared, standing tall and pointing at the blackness of the night. "Watch the sky, Virginia;" She looked up and noticed glittering points of light, dozens of them, seeming to get closer. The hissing shriek was indeed their approach and they seemed to be aimed right at them. She felt Santa's hand squeeze on her shoulder, almost in excitement. His blue eyes were blazing ferociously. Finally, what looked like dozens of giant icicles, each larger and longer than a semi, lanced out of the night sky and slammed into the earth around her house, shaking it as they buried their tips in the frozen ground and came to a stop. Several impaled the intruders as they came in, while others kicked up a covering spray of snow as the enemy stopped and looked around in confusion. Then doors or portals opened on the sides of the titan icicles and tall, lithe beings began leaping out of them, wearing weird, form-fitting armor and carrying space-age guns and swords or axes. Their armor and long hair was a riot of colors that was reflected by the snow and ice. Wild, ululating war cries pierced the air. And a savage, bloody battle began on her property. "Who the hell are they?" Ginny almost yelled in astonishment as she watched. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, the ones not wearing helmets revealing long, beautiful facial features that were often frightening because of the wrath they displayed. The helmets were all tall and peaked, showing fearsome designs and glowing eyes. Weird runes pulsed and throbbed with light all over their armor. Guns hissed and shrieked while swords hummed as they slew. "My elves," Santa said, clearly pleased and also eager to fight but not willing to leave her side yet. "They got my call and converged on my position." "Those are elves?" she exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't they cutesy little toy-shop people?" "Cute myth, but no, not these ones," he replied, watching as several elves wearing bone-white armor with feminine features raced past, throwing themselves into a knot of the hulking bugs. They screamed and the masks of their wild-maned helmets gave off vibrations that shook Ginny's teeth in her head as it melted their foes' faces off. "No, a lot of my elves are warriors, meant to help me fight Krampus. They keep Christmas safe with me." "What the hell are they wearing?" she asked in disbelief. How could this weird night get any weirder? Santa sighed. "Truth? They've been spending way too much time playing Warhammer 40k and they; appropriated armor, weapons and tactics from the Eldar faction. They're space elves." "Wow. Gay;" she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, they're certainly earning their keep tonight." He nodded. "Been a long time since Krampus moved against us this hard. Apparently he got bored and was feeling uppity. That or he just forgot what a good thrashing felt like." Ginny watched as three elves, clad in scary black armor and wearing helmets that looked like peaked skulls, marched relentlessly forward, firing little rockets from elaborate launchers they carried in their hands and on suspensor harnesses. The rockets punctured the bugs' chitin shells and exploded inside them, sending shards of exoskeleton and stinking goo in every direction. Ginny squeaked and hid behind Santa as some of the nasty effluence landed right where she'd been standing only a moment before. Beams of super-heated plasma and tiny, shuriken-like projectiles hissed and whizzed by them, the remains of her lovely house now the center of a battleground while the winter storm raged on. Warriors in green armor, carrying weapons that looked like a horrifying hybrid of sword and chainsaw, tore into a knot of foes, slicing them to bloody ribbons. As savage as the battle had been earlier, when it had just been her and Santa, she suddenly appreciated its relative civility. "They need my help," Santa said finally, cracking his knuckles, his expression grim. "We have to finish this off or Christmas won't come on time." "I thought you said there was plenty of time." Ginny protested, frowning up at him. "There was," he admitted. "But in order to defeat Krampus' minions, I summoned every single quantum iteration of myself back to here to help me fight. No one is delivering presents anywhere at the moment. I can't change real-time if I'm here in my entirety." He turned and looked at her. "Hopefully we're keeping them busy enough that they don't worry about you. Stay against the wall and work the music, will you?" "Manning the music station," she said, nodding, focusing on giving herself a task. "Music for Santa and his homicidal elves to kill by. Got it;" She watched as Santa leapt through the shattered remains of her bay doors into the howling storm and crashed into a knot of foes, savaging them. She watched in disbelief for some time, trying to figure out how Santa could kill anyone. I mean, even serial murderers got presents in prison, didn't they? Maybe they didn't, she had no way of knowing and chalked up thinking about this to what could only be described as the weirdest night of her life. She squealed and dodged out of the way as a body came flying through the doors and landed next to her. She scrambled over to the entertainment center and stood in front of it, trying to figure out what the hell she should play. "Okay;" she breathed, trying to focus. "Mass slaughter music; mass slaughter music;" What constituted mass slaughter music? Death metal? Panic At The Disco? Teletubbies music? She had no playlists, so she began cycling through the radio, hoping to find anything that might suffice. Oldies; Christmas music; hip-hop; trance; disco; "Son of a fuck," she muttered. "This is harder than it looks." She finally came across a station playing 'Jailhouse Rock' and decided that was good enough, she was sick of looking. She winced, trying to ignore another splintering crash as a body came through her wall. She hugged herself but then felt her robe. She frowned as she looked down at it, realizing it had been thoroughly shredded in the fight earlier. Those shuriken-thingies had been cutting it real close. Ginny grumbled as she pulled it off and threw it away, standing there completely naked, it hadn't been keeping her warm in its current condition and she was thoroughly beyond giving a shit at this point about who saw her naked. They were all too damn busy tearing one another apart anyway. And that sort of pissed her off. She was buck-naked and no one seemed to care. She'd shaved her cunt for this? "And I thought my night sucked before," she sighed to no one in particular. "Not getting my cunt pounded had been my biggest complaint before this hack!" She never saw the menacing shadow that had slipped up behind her. Santa picked one of his foes up overhead and hurled him into a cluster of foes, bowling them all over. He then punched another man as he tried to run by, knocking him off his feet and into his back. A quick stamp on his solar plexus made sure he stopped moving. The huge man thrust his fist in the air and shouted loudly. "Clear!" he thundered, indicating no other enemies surrounded him. His elves responded in kind, many of them gathering in a tight ring about him, weapons facing out as they sought to protect him. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the landscape, some burning from plasma blasts, other shredded and blown apart by rockets or sliced into bloody jerky. The storm seemed to be abating, no longer a blizzard so much as a stiff wind and swirls of snow. "Sire, we detect no enemies in the immediate vicinity," one elf wearing blue armor with a tall, crested helmet announced, striding up and saluting by thumping his gauntleted fist over his heart. "This attack has been defeated." "Maybe," Santa said, looking around warily. "But that doesn't mean anything just yet. We have to secure the area, make sure Virginia is alright and then get back to” "Kringle!" "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I thought this was too easy." He made several complex gestures, sending his elves fanning out in a wide arc as he began trudging forward through the snow, heading toward where the voice had come from out of the night. The winds and squalls of snow continued to die down until there was an almost deafening silence, the moon shining brightly overhead and revealing the sheer carnage of the battle that had been waged, the snow and ice glittered with frozen blood. "Kringle!" snarled the inhuman voice angrily. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Santa said loudly, scowling. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He stopped in a clearing on the other side of the house, glowering at who confronted him, the beast was not as tall as he was, nor as muscular, but horrifying in aspect. The backward-jointed, hairy legs ended in wicked hooves. The skin not covered in coarse black fur was almost as dark and criss-crossed with innumerable scars. The vascular chest was crowned with a strong neck and sitting atop it was a blasphemous head, a demonic goat's visage from which grew four evil, twisting horns. The red eyes blazed like wrathful coals and sharp teeth glistened wetly inside the hateful mouth. Krampus. And in one of his powerful, clawed hands, he held Virginia by the neck, who looked like a rag doll. "Hi, Santa;" she said weakly, looking very apologetic. Santa kept walking forward, clenching his fists. "By all means, Kringle, keep coming forward if you mean to slay the child." Krampus growled, starting to squeeze and causing Ginny to shudder in fear. Santa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His elves had now cast a tight net around the scene, hemming in Krampus. One circle of warriors faced inward, pointing their weapons at the abomination while another behind them faced out, prepared for any further attacks. Santa didn't move. "Let the girl go, Krampus," he said levelly. "This doesn't concern her." "Oh, I beg to differ," said the beastman in an almost non-chalant tone. "It's always about the children, isn't it?" "Hey!" said Ginny angrily. "I am not a child, jerk! I'm twenty, Gurr!" "Oh, do stop talking, you're such an annoyance." Krampus said, giving her neck another warning squeeze. "Let the adults work this out." "There's nothing to work out, Krampus," Santa growled, his blue eyes flashing. "You'll let the girl go." "I think we both know that's not happening," intoned the vile intruder. "She is my victory over you, and you know it. Revenge is not only a dish best served cold but often. And not often enough for me." "About this cold revenge dish thing," Ginny said, squirming slightly. "Couldn't; couldn't I just find you a nice tin can to chew on instead?" "Shut up, girl!" Krampus said harshly while several elves could be heard to chuckle and even Santa smirked at her jest. "I hold your life in my hands, to dispose of as I please." His foul breath crackled in the cold night air. His touch was uncomfortably warm, almost hot and strangely kept her body from freezing in the winter night. His touch felt evil and her skin crawled in revulsion. His strength was terrifying. "It wasn't enough that I slaved in coal mines for you, giving you carbon lumps to deliver to naughty children," Krampus growled, glaring at Santa. "It wasn't enough that I found the worst of them and brought them to you in the night so you could lecture them." "Hey, nobody asked you or ordered you to do the coal thing, pal," Santa said angrily. "And the whole kidnapping kids thing was your idea. I decided to let you have some creative control and look what happened. When it didn't work out, you decided that beating naughty kids with reeds was the answer. You're damn right that wasn't good enough!" "Silence!" Krampus snarled loudly, stamping one of his clawed hooves and making the ground shake dangerously. "Your kind-hearted foolishness with these puny mortals changed nothing about their behavior! Your failure to recognize their inherent selfishness was why our efforts were doomed!" "These puny mortals?" Santa countered. "You used to be one of them, Pete, remember? You were a well-behaved boy once." "Shut up!" growled Krampus. "Well-behaved, but not good," Santa continued. "You followed the rules and wanted everyone to follow rules. You were a control freak. I brought you north to show you what kindness could do, but you hated the cheer and the happiness and you fled to the coal mines in Greenland, hiding in the dark where the light of Christmas couldn't touch you! And when making kids feel bad with coal didn't bring them into line, you started the whole whipping them with reeds thing. Good job there, Pete!" "I'm warning you, Kringle;" Krampus said dangerously. "Oh, he really gets your goat, doesn't he?" Ginny sneered, causing several elves to laugh loudly. Krampus now snarled furiously and lifted her into the air by her neck, causing her to cry out in pain. Santa watched warily, knowing better than to make a move. "We seem to have an impasse," Krampus said, an evil smile playing over his slavering mouth. "You cannot harm me, because you know I can slay the child, but I cannot as yet slay her because she is my bargaining chip. But my need to hurt you, old man, is so very strong." He lowered Ginny down until her feet were just touching the snow-covered ground. She frowned as she heard a wet slithering sound she could not identify. "And there are other ways to hurt you than slaying the poor dear, aren't there?" Ginny felt something slimy touch her leg and then start to crawl up it, wrapping around her smooth skin. She shuddered and squirmed in horror as she realized exactly what was happening. The snake-like appendage wound up her thigh and then behind her. She gasped as it slid between her ass cheeks and then underneath to her cunt. She felt the blunt head split her lips and then move upward again. "Don't do this, Krampus." Santa said, trying to figure out what to do without hurting Ginny. "And why not?" replied the qliphotic abomination. "Don't you have a present for me? Then I guess I'll have to give myself one." Krampus' organ continued to slither its way around her body, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She stiffened and moaned as his appendage wrapped around her tits, squeezing them, the head pausing and teasing the nipples. "Hey, asshole, dinner and a movie first!" she spat angrily. Ginny was about to say something else when the large, grayish cockhead snaked up in front of her face and then plunged into her mouth, causing her to gag and go silent. Her eyes widened and she thrashed furiously, but to no avail. He was simply too strong. "Language, young lady." Krampus chided, still staring at Santa. "Hasn't Santa taught you anything?" "This isn't gonna end well for you, Pete." Santa said, his tone dire. "Christmas never does, Kringle," replied the demon, his cock sliding in and out of Ginny's mouth. "I'm just hoping to make the holiday every bit as awful and intolerable for you as it is for me. After all, misery loves company." He brought her body close to his head and his other hand reached over and stroked her cunt lips, which were glistening. He leered at his foe, knowing Santa was helpless to get closer. "Is she good down here?" Krampus said mockingly. "Nice and wet and tight for you? Was she the best one ever, in the endless list of good girls you have fucked?" Santa said nothing, just glaring at Krampus. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. "Sharing your toys is the spirit of Christmas, isn't it?" Krampus said evilly, finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. Ginny coughed and sputtered, tendrils of resinous spittle and worse trailing away from her lips. She glared at Krampus but was still immobilized. "Just get this over with and fuck me already, whip-cock," she spat. "You won't be my first egotistical disappointment, trust me." Krampus' eyes blazed red and his tongue sped around her naked form blindingly quickly while he released her from his clawed grip. The tongue wrapped and immobilized her arms, holding them out straight while still encircling her tits. It then snaked around her waist and legs, pinning those as well while his long cock, swaying about like a cobra, came to a stop in front of her swollen cunt lips. The head teased and tapped against the opening, causing her to moan and squirm. "As you wish, child;" The head forced itself through her lips, sliding deep inside her. Ginny cried out in a mixture of shock and indescribable pleasure. She felt the tip of his pointed tongue probe trailing around her nipples. The python-like length of his cock churned inside her cunt. The blinding light behind her eyes finally receded and she lifted her head, looking out into the night, feeling his tongue constricting around her neck. She could dimly see a huge being in red pants and black boots watching nearby, his powerful chest exposed. The startling blue eyes flashed in the darkness of the night. She could tell he wanted to rescue her but didn't dare come closer. She gasped and shuddered as Krampus' cock pushed still deeper inside her. She felt fuller than she had imagined possible, the slithering appendage stretching her wide. The sticky, squelching noises were hardly to be believed. "Ew, gross! Hentai noises!" she thought in revulsion. "Krampus;" Santa warned. His elves all pointed their weapons menacingly but he held up his hand, staying them. "The child is naughty," Krampus said, smiling through pointed teeth. "Very naughty. Such a sordid past." "Hey, back off, she was young and needed the money!" Santa snapped defensively. "That thing with the midget and the donkey was” "You're not helping here!" Ginny shouted, blushing furiously, even as Krampus violated her. "Wicked child," growled the vile demon, shoving his cock in and out of her, the peristaltic actions of its length causing her to writhe and squirm in his grip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Shameless. Even though I violate her, she finds a way to be concerned about how you perceive her. I find it; titillating." "Oh, do I make you horny?" she sneered, turning her head to smirk at him. "Couldn't tell, looking at that head of yours." "Silence!" Krampus hissed, spittle flying from his jaws, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hold your life and death in my hands." "How would I know?" she shot back. "Hope you're better with your hands than you are with your cock, Billy G." He plunged his cock deeper still inside her. She went rigid and cried out. "That all you got?" she rasped, trying not to faint as she felt popping inside her hips while he stetched her. "My brother got in deeper than that when we were little!" "Insolent!" Krampus snarled savagely, bouncing her up and down and he fucked her harder than ever, pulling on her arms and legs, stretching her joints til they creaked. She felt a deep, wet heat building inside her and in spite of the horror she consciously felt about the situation, even more dire was her need to cum. She felt her cunt squeezing around his cock. His snake-like tongue probed her ass and wriggled inside, further adding to her desperation. "Intholent bith, you will be punithed!" "What was that?" Santa asked, turning his head slightly and putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't understand you, it's like you have a lisp or something." "Don't mock meef!" Krampus said angrily, his tongue whipping out of Ginny's ass, causing her to yelp suddenly. "I'll kill her, Kringle!" "Not before I cum, damn you!" Ginny panted, her body flushed and covered in sweat as she twisted and writhed in his grip. "Uh, so close, goddammit!" "Language!" Santa and Krampus both snapped at her. "Aw, c'mon!" she wailed. "You two are total pains in the ass! Do it, Billy! Show me what a bad boy you are!" Krampus glared at her and began fucking her harder than ever. "As you wish, child!" "Krampus!" Santa shouted, reaching out his hand in alarm. "Don't!" Krampus grinned evilly at Santa, his teeth clenching as he drew close to climax. His cock seemed to swell along its length, stretching her wider still. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, straining as she was overwhelmed by sensation; Santa's fist slammed across Krampus' jaw with a powerful crack. The demonoid's eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled to the ground. Ginny wailed in frustration as his cock pulled out of her and retreated back to his body, like a wet, slimy Stanley tape measure. She collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow, panting and shaking, her eyes wide. Santa raced up and knelt next to her, his eyes shining with concern. "Fuck;" Ginny whispered, gasping for air. "Motherfucker;" She looked up at her rescuer now, her eyes flashing accusingly. "The hell? Couldn't you have let him make me cum first?" Santa paused. "What?" "I was so damn close!" she hissed, standing up and stamping her foot. "I was within half a second of the orgasm of my life and you had to choose that moment to intervene and play the hero! Don't expect a thank you card!" "Uh, Virginia," Santa said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. "If he had brought you to orgasm, it would have killed you. When Krampus climaxes, his appendage you were so attached to bursts into spikes, basically killing you from the inside while denying you your orgasm." She paused and then deflated. "Holy cobra dildos. What a bastard." Ginny then pointed a finger at her savior. "But you still owe me an orgasm, then, pal. You may have rescued me from certain death, but that doesn't mean I don't need relief." Santa looked really confused. "What, here? Now?" "Damn straight," she said firmly, suddenly remembering she was buck naked in a snow-storm. In spite of the no-doubt freezing weather, her body was still warm and very wet with need. She put her hand down her cunt and felt around for a moment before presenting her sticky palm and fingers to Santa for inspection. "Do I look satisfied to you? You've already fucked me, Screamo the Goat Boy just fucked me, who cares if your freaky gay elves watch us? I need satisfaction now and I already am aware that you can't say no." Santa sighed. "It's gotta be quick, Virginia. I'm really behind, now that I'm completely temporal in one location." "Whatever, just get me to the promised land, man." Ginny replied, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe your entourage might enjoy a show." "Oh, right, about that," Santa said, standing up tall and shouting loudly. "About; Face!" As a single unit, the elves all turned around smartly on their heels, still arranged in a protective ring around their liege and his companion, weapons ready as they scanned the darkness for trouble, their eyes glowing menacingly inside their helmets. Santa strode up to Ginny, towering over her and ignoring the prostrate form of the still-unconscious Krampus, snuffling nearby. She smiled up at him, somehow warmed by his presence, in spite of the icy night she should have frozen to death in already. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth as she felt her already molten core getting even more heated in response to his touch. Tongues tangled and played as he took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed them, making her shiver. Ginny's hands fumbled with his large black belt until it fell away and then pulled down his red pants. He pulled her onto his powerful thighs, resting her on them. She hooked her legs behind his waist and began grinding her wet, eager cunt against his hardening cock, which swelled readily. Her head was almost spinning, she was so horny. "Hmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, feeling the head of his cock touch her cunt lips. "Make me cum hard and fast." She sighed loudly as he pulled her close, penetrating and sliding deep inside her. Ginny moaned shamelessly as Santa once again began to pump back and forth inside her. His huge cock stretched her cunt wide, but not in the violent, violating way Krampus did. This felt warm and utterly perfect. She nipped at the skin of his chest while he moved in and out of her. "Yes," Ginny breathed as he began to moved faster, pumping strongly and rhythmically. She could feel her wetness trickling down between her cheeks, her cunt clutching at him hungrily, greedily and unwilling to let go until it was somehow sated. "Oh, God, just what I needed. Yes, fuck me, Santa!" He gripped her tight and thrust into her, picking up his pace just the way she wanted. She was gasping and yelping now and he squeezed her cheeks, one of his fingers poking inside her puckered knot. She clenched her teeth and groaned at the intrusion, murmuring that she loved it. She grew warmer and warmer, her body tingling with an exquisite fire that rippled out from her core. Santa turned her around and set her feet on top of his boots, bending her forward and pulling on her arms. She cried out as he fucked her harder, his hips thumping against her ass cheeks. Her hands clenched wildly, her breath coming in gasps as his overwhelming strength dominated her. "Oh, God!" she panted, beginning to shudder uncontrollably, almost drooling. "Uh, cum in me, dammit! Fucking cum in me!" Santa pulled on her arms even tighter as his thighs slammed into her. Ginny strained, craning her neck, teeth clenched as she tried not to scream, but it was no use, she wailed loudly as he came inside her, filling her once again in a way she could not describe. Her orgasm shook every last atom of her being, transporting her to a world of nothing but pleasure, edged with mint. She buckled, hanging loosely in his arms, exhausted. She'd been fucked hard at least five times tonight and had a dreadful suspicion that this experience would only make her libido even more hyperactive. She sighed as Santa scooped her naked form into his arms and cuddled her against the cold. Ginny purred and traced a fingernail across his broad chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just what the doctor ordered. That quenched the flames, for now." He finally put her down and she looked at the remains of her ruined chateau, which was completely leveled and now on fire. "Poor Oatmeal," she murmured. "Where am I going to live?" She scowled down at the still supine Krampus, anger flaring in her. "It's this jack wagon’s fault. You should totally napalm his face." Santa looked down at her in shock. "Did you just say I should jerk off in Krampus' face?" "Damn right, he'd deserve it too." Ginny announced. "That and shove your sleigh up his ass." "I am not jizzing in Krampus' face." Santa said, clearly repulsed by the suggestion. "Fine, leave a woman to do a man's job," Ginny said testily, striding over to Krampus and putting one leg on either side of his head. She stuck three fingers inside her cunt and managed to tease out considerable amounts of Santa's minty cum, which she smeared all over Krampus' face and into his fur with glee, even giving him a glistening white moustache. "Take that, asshole!" She looked like she might have been done desecrating the unconscious form, but then she paused and squatted over him, peeing on his body and face, the stream steaming in the cold night air. She grinned evilly as she thoroughly baptized him. "Teach you to mess with me." Ginny muttered as she walked back to Santa, nodding. The huge man had a wide smirk on his face and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you just pissed all over Krampus," he said, hugging her to him. "However, you're going to freeze to death at this rate;" He held out his hand and one of his elves dutifully brought him a large, velvety red cloak, which he wrapped around her. She blushed and smiled gratefully at his consideration, but only until he slid it off her, revealing that she was now wearing some ridiculous 'Hot Christmas Elf' outfit, complete with striped stockings and high heels. She looked like a Yule whore. "Seriously?" she asked, unimpressed. "This is your solution to my naked issues?" He shrugged. "I liked you better naked, but you would freeze quickly." "Whatever," she sighed, looking down and appreciating the considerable lift it gave her cleavage. It was incredibly warm, in spite of how scant it was. "So now what? I still have no damn home, you and Goatse here blew it up with your little barnyard brawl." Santa looked around warily. "That might be the least of your worries. The wind's picking up again, which means that another assault is coming. We need to get out of here." "Sire!" said one of the armored elves, thumping his fist to his breastplate and bowing his head. "We will cover you. You must go while you still have a head-start and the dark one is unconscious." Santa nodded. "Yeah, he's not gonna be happy when he wakes up and he's really gonna want revenge on you, Virginia." She felt her mouth go dry at the notion of another battle and Krampus waking up to even the score. "So; now what?" Santa shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly obvious. I've still got to make my rounds before the night is over and I'm not leaving you here;" She gaped as he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Virginia, you're coming with me and you're going to help save Christmas." Chapter 3, Christmas Wishes "How the hell do you drive this thing?" Ginny called in a panic, her eyes wide as she held onto the reigns, twisting them wildly as she tried to steer. Up ahead of her, eight large reindeer squealed and thrashed their heads. The sleigh corkscrewed while it hurtled through the cold night air, the moon shining down on them. "Well, first of all, stop panicking," Santa replied as he stood on the back of the sleigh, atop his huge red sack of toys. He was more or less back to his original size she had become accustomed to, now that he had sent his other 'iterations' of himself out over the globe to deliver presents. "That would be an excellent start." "Easy for you to say," she snapped, scowling back at him for a moment since taking her eyes off her designated path seemed to make no difference to how she was doing at navigating. "You're used to doing this!" "Trust me, between the two of us, you're the one with the easy job right now and I'd be happy to trade," he called back as he ducked wildly. A comically large rocket thundered by, with an evil-looking man strapped to the bottom of it, swinging a weapon wildly to hit Santa. "Try to keep her steady!" "While dodging psychos on rockets, no problem!" she grumbled, trying to ignore the howling wind and roaring projectiles. "Have I mentioned Krampus is a gigantic asshole?" "Repeatedly," Santa answered, watching warily. The sky was threaded with jets of fire as their enemies kept coming about in ponderous, elliptical arcs and heading back towards them, intent on their destruction. They had only just pulled off from the smoldering remains of Ginny's country chateau when the assault began. Krampus was nowhere to be seen, but his minions were clearly determined to avenge him. "Maybe urinating on him wasn't such a good idea. He never did take humiliation well." Ginny squawked in alarm and ducked as a rocket streaked right at her. Santa jumped in the air, doing the splits to avoid the projectile and landing back on top of his present sack. Another tried to pull up alongside them but Santa grabbed the harness the man was wearing and wrenched the rocket off course, sending it speeding into one some distance away. Both rockets (and presumably their pilots) exploded in a violent orgy of noise and flashing lights. "Really hope people just think those are fireworks," Santa muttered as he looked glared balefully at yet another rocket considering approaching. "Fireworks right in the middle of the world's most spastic meteor shower. Sure, they'll buy that;" "Funny part is I can't tell if you're serious," Ginny said loudly. "If they don't believe that narrative, then they've gotta accept that Santa Claus was engaged in an epic air battle over their town with quantum men strapped to rockets." "Truth is often stranger than fiction," Santa agreed, nodding. "Fighting these jerks off is taking too much time!" "Well, don't you have anything in your back of tricks there?" Ginny asked. In spite of the sleigh being open, it seemed to have some weird form of climate control and she'd been getting rather warm. To that end she'd pulled down her top, exposing her tits to cool herself off. The breeze allowed through made her nipples tingle delightfully, but not enough to distract her from driving the sleigh. After all, she often drove ninety minutes to her job wearing a vibrating insert in her panties, so she knew for a fact she could orgasm and still control a vehicle. A wheeled one, at least. She wasn't so sure about a sleigh doing Mach Three at twenty thousand feet. "You mean a weapon?" Santa asked. "In the bag full of toys for kids?" "You gave me a nerf gun out of that bag and it turned out to be some sort of doomsday device, didn't it?" she pointed out. "Scary lightning bolts everywhere. I refuse to believe you don't have some other goodies in there." Santa shrugged and squatted down to look inside the bag, getting narrowly missed by another rocket that shot over his head. The pilot cursed and came around again, aiming directly at the chassis of the sleigh from the side. Ginny's eyes widened in fright as she saw him approach. She jerked the reins to one side and the sleigh tilted ninety degrees, presenting its wide, flat red underside. The rocket slammed into it and exploded. Whatever it was made of or whatever shielding was in place, Ginny only heard the detonation and felt a rumble, but there was no damage aside from that. "Ha!" Santa said, standing tall and holding an electric guitar in the air, its black body gleamed in the moonlight. He put the strap around his neck and took several seconds to tune it, ignoring the aerial mayhem that swirled around him. "The hell are you going to do with that?" Ginny asked, scowling as she looked behind to see what he was up to. "You said to find something, I found something," he said simply as he checked the pickups. "Now let's see what we can do here;" He took the pick in hand and strummed it across the strings, a screeching pulse of sound blared out from the instrument, heading in all directions. It struck several rockets nearby, which exploded brightly. Other were knocked off course, spiraling around crazily as they fought for control. Santa laughed loudly, apparently enjoying himself. "Quit laughing and kill, red man!" Ginny yelled, nonplussed by his amusement. "I want to survive the night and I've had several close calls with death already!" "I'm working on it, Virginia, patience." Santa chided, adjusting the tuners momentarily. "Near-death experiences make you cranky." "No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled as he blasted out another screeching wave of sound. "Do you plan to play anything or just keep shrieking out that one sound?" "As you wish," he said cheerfully, pleased to be doing as she asked. Making her happy was all he cared about. He began playing a heavy metal version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries', the pulsing walls of sound thundering out and striking every foe within hundreds of meters, causing several to detonate and others to be knocked in random directions. "Seriously?" she called, looking back at him. "Metal?" "What were you looking for, Katy Perry?" he answered, continuing to play. "Now there's a naughty girl." "I'm sure I don't want to know." Ginny said, cutting him off before she heard about his sex with Katy Perry. She didn't begrudge him fucking other girls, he was Santa after all, but she didn't need to hear about them. "Can I try that after a bit? I was in a band in high school, you know, I was the bassist." "Yes, and you absolutely sucked," he responded, pointing the headstock at an enemy and releasing a powerful bolt of coruscating energy from it, vaporizing the target. "You only got in at all because you were blowing the guy who was the singer. And you were naughty because he was supposed to be going steady with the girl who was the rhythm guitarist." "Is that why I got sweaters that Christmas?" she exclaimed. "I wanted a real bass and I got fucking sweaters! Because I made Brad cheat on Kendra?" "Guilty," Santa said simply, nodding and firing off another blast. "That and you lied when she confronted you about it. Helluva chick fight afterward, though." Ginny sighed. "Well, you can't lie, so I now know I sucked at playing the bass. Is there any instrument I could be good at?" "I'm pretty sure I've got a kazoo in here somewhere;" he answered. The sleigh did a sudden barrel roll, twisting several times in mid-air. "Wow, nice dodge move." Santa said, impressed. "I wasn't dodging," Ginny grumbled. "I was trying to see if I could dump you out of this damn thing." "Oh," he mused, not quite sure why, for the fortieth time tonight, Virginia was annoyed with him. "Sorry, it doesn't work like that. The sleigh can't throw me." "Clearly." She went back to driving, trying to ignore the chaos whirling about them. She didn't even really know where they were headed, she was just pointing the reindeer in the direction indicated by the GPS. She frowned as she counted the reindeer. "I only count eight." Ginny remarked. "Yes, that's right." Santa agreed. "What's the problem?" "Well, where's Rudolph?" she asked. Everything went silent for a moment, only the wind going by them making a sound. Somehow the reindeer seemed quieter, and they hadn't even been talking. "Virginia, there's only one rule about Rudolph." Santa said quietly. "Don't talk about Rudolph." "Uh; okay;" she said, wondering what the hell that had been about. "Sorry." "No harm done, everybody gets a freebie there." Santa said, his jovial demeanor returning. He began playing again, this time a lively rendition of a song by Queen. "I taught Brian May everything he knows!" "Well okay, even if I suck big floppy donkey cock at music, isn't there anything I can do back there while you drive for a bit?" she asked. "My ass is getting sweaty!" "I don't see why not," Santa replied, nodding while crunching his way through Metallica's cover of 'Whiskey In The Jar'. "You can poke around in the bag and see if anything sings out to you." "I wouldn't be amazed if something did actually do that," she sighed, putting down the reigns. The deer slackened their pace as she clambered over the back of the seat and onto the huge sack of toys that bulged in the rear. Santa put an arm around her protectively and she drew in a deep breath as she looked out through the night; She couldn't see anything but a vast expanse of ocean beneath them. The moon and stars glittered overhead, the galaxy turning around them. She turned and looked up into his eyes, putting a hand on his chest. He smiled down at her. The kiss they shared as they soared over the Atlantic was captured in the reflections of the waves far below. Driving Lessons. Santa was a much steadier driver than Ginny, as it turned out, able to confidently perform complex maneuvers at several times the speed of sound. To be fair, he had centuries of practice and made sure Ginny knew that when he finally took over the reins. "Nice of you to say that," she mentioned as she stood in the back atop the mound of presents. "Never driven a sleigh before, except for the make-believe one my dog pulled me around on." She had found another gun, but this one didn't look so ridiculous, it had a very sci-fi feel to it and the black metal gleamed menacingly. She felt like Ripley in Aliens, she just hoped she didn't look quite so butch. "Not in that outfit, you don't." Santa called back, referring to her sexy-elf clothing she was wearing. "Stay out of my mind, creeper," she said, scanning the sky warily. "You won't always like what you find in there." She turned and pointed the gun at another freak on a rocket, pulling the trigger. A hissing shriek accompanied the blast of plasma it fired, charring the pilot and causing the rocket to explode. She warily looked at the barrel of her weapon. "What can this thing actually do?" she asked. "Well, it's no wave motion gun, but it might give the Yamato's shock cannons a run for their money." Santa replied, still driving. "It's not like Krampus has a helicarrier or anything." "Where is Goatse anyway?" she wondered, pointing the weapon at a distant foe and firing off another volley. "He's gotta be awake by now. Will he come after us in a rocket?" "No," Santa laughed. "When he does care to leave the safety of the ground, he rides around in some ridiculous Steampunk balloon-dirigible thing, painted all black and deep purple." "Wow, emo much?" Ginny muttered. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." "He'll stand on the deck and yell curses while firing off these old-school cannons at me and then he gets super mad when I can't stop laughing." "Well, if he's pants-on-head retarded enough to show up in that thing, I'll blow him right out of the sky for his troubles." Ginny declared, putting down her gun and rummaging around inside the bag again. She pulled out a long pole made of hard wood. On each end was a curved blade like a sickle. She looked over at Santa, her eyebrow raised. "The hell, dude?" Santa shrugged. "What? Shaolin monks get presents too, you know." "I know, I know, if they're good." Ginny sighed. She heard another rocket approaching and whirled around, swinging the lajiatang almost like it was a baseball bat and cleaving the rocket clean in half. The pilot yodeled in fright as he plunged into the darkness below. "Do they all scream like Goofy when they die?" she asked, kneeling now and looking over the side, her ass in the air and exposing her tiny red thong. "Admittedly I haven't really kept track," Santa said. "Not exactly a concern of mine." "But; aren't they your children too?" she asked, now curious. "I mean, sure, they've gone to the Dark Side and work for Dickface now, but does that mean you can kill them?" Santa snorted. "I'd never kill any of my kids, Virginia. Those beings aren't human. They're extra-dimensional, to keep it simple. They just look human when they exist here, to do his bidding, but they come from another dimension, like the Great Humpkin." "Uh, don't you mean 'the Great Pumpkin'?" Ginny corrected. "Nope, I meant what I said," he confirmed. "Guy's a huge pervert." "Wow," she breathed. "Poor Linus." "Well, we seem to be in the clear for now," he mentioned, sighing in relief. "I don't think the fuel in their rockets will carry them this far out over the ocean. You can move back up here if you like." Ginny grinned happily and put down her weapon, wiggling back to the front of the sleigh. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up against him. It felt so comforting and right, to be held by him this way. "Ever been given sleigh head, big guy?" she purred, smiling up at him slyly. "Well, no," he chuckled. "I don't have a lot of my kids riding in my sleigh." "Well, this kid is going to take your sleigh head cherry, then;" she said with a wink, crawling between his legs and kneeling in front of him in the foot well. She was delighted to find there was enough room for her to kneel comfortably. She pulled down his red pants slowly, smiling up at him. His huge cock was waiting for her, swelling but still soft. She took it in her hands and began caressing it gently. It felt so smooth and the gentle pulse or throb seemed to match her own heartbeat. She leaned down and kissed the head almost lovingly. Without hesitating, she slid him down her throat, humming along the way. She knew she'd never understand the magic or weird physics behind why such a monstrosity wasn't choking her and felt so natural, but she didn't care, either. With a practiced abandon, Ginny began bobbing back and forth on Santa's cock, shivering in wet delight as he grew hard in her mouth. The exquisite, moist heat she felt throughout her body was unlike anything she'd felt before tonight and she knew she'd never get enough of it. Thousands of meters up in the sky, the midnight vault and stars turning over them, she was aware of only him and her overwhelming desire to cum. Her tongue swirled around the throbbing shaft while her fingers teased his sac gently. "Can you drive this thing if I sit in your lap?" she asked, smiling up at him, pulling her mouth off his cock and stroking its length with her little fist. "I'm thinking I need a really good fucking right now." Santa looked down at her and grinned. "We've got about thirty minutes before we're over Reykjavik and our first port of call, so yes, if you think half an hour is enough to banish your horny demons;" "Ooh, so we're handling the deliveries in Europe?" she asked, pumping his cock a little more excitedly at the prospect of visiting the Old World, something she'd never done but always wished to do. "Some of them," he answered, shrugging. "There's gonna be a lot of back and forth all over. My iterations are not exactly assigned to regions, more like times and good to naughty scales." "So, we could be over Paris, France for one kid and then over Green Bay, Wisconsin, for another?" she queried. "Not Green Bay," Santa said, his tone suddenly very dark. "I'd rather made my deliveries in the stinkiest part of a Turkish prison." "Not that I actually care, but what's wrong with Green Bay?" Ginny asked, intrigued, continuing to stroke his cock and sliding her tongue up and down dutifully while she listened. "Hate that place," he muttered. "Too many sport hunters. And the idiot dads name their boys Hunter. Hunter or Logan. There's too much cheese for any of those little fatties to grow up to be Wolverine. And all the girls are named McKaela or McKenzie or McDoodle or crap like that. I quit doing shopping mall appearances and contracted out because dads kept getting their boys to ask me if I could make the Packers win the Super Bowl." Ginny snickered. "So how do the kids get their presents?" He shrugged. "I get some elves to sneak in and leave the presents, along with notes of rebuke to the dads who are fat-bellied hunters." "Why, Santa, I didn't know you were such an animal rights activist," she purred as she slowly stood and turned herself around, pressing her ass against his massive cock. She ground around on him for several seconds before she felt the head split her damp lips and penetrate her. Ginny sighed in relief as she sank down onto him, all the way to the hilt. She couldn't get over how blissfully full she felt. "So you object on moral, oh!, moral grounds to the killing of animals?" "Well, mostly the deer," he admitted, continuing to drive as Ginny started to slither up and down on his lap, her wet cunt swallowing his cock hungrily. "Not too worried about all the cows, they're even bigger jerks than squirrels and cats." Ginny giggled and leaned forward on the golden handlebar, shuddering in pleasure as she changed the angle of penetration. "So you; can't make the Packers win the Super Bowl?" Santa shrugged. "Nope. Showing Brady how to deflate footballs turned out to be a mistake, he promised me he wouldn't use those techniques for evil. Don't ask what he got in his stocking. Can't make the Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup, either." "I thought; you could make; anyone's Christmas wishes come true;" she panted, bouncing her ass on his lap as she fucked him with her cunt greedily. In spite of the icy winds around them, she was sweating like a hooker in church. "Only from a certain perspective, and only if no dishonesty is involved." Santa replied, tilting his hips up to pushing further inside Ginny, making her gasp suddenly. "It's like;" he mused, trying to think of an example. "Well, picture yourself as the office slut." "Okay, I'm there." Ginny moaned instantly. "That was way too easy for you," Santa chuckled. "Anyway, let's say there's some guy in the office you want to fuck. I can't just change his mind for you, but my lab could invent a body spray that shoots your pheromone levels through the roof and he's hard for you from a mile away." "Uh, just think of all the guys I could fuck;" she rasped. "I could have a different dance partner every night of the week." Santa nodded as Ginny picked up the pace, driving herself down on his erect cock with more and more force, her ass cheeks slapping against his thighs loudly. Her teeth were clenched as she fought to delay the mind-blowing orgasm that was approaching. "Oh, God;" she choked, gripping the sleigh's handle desperately. "Oh, shit, I'm gonna; Santa!" Her back arched and she screeched through gritted teeth as she surrendered herself to orgasmic rapture. Maybe it was the thin air at twenty-thousand feet, but a swirling, light-headed delirium washed over her as her cunt clenched around her lover's cock, which throbbed and spurted deep inside her. She could feel his hands gripping her hips tightly as she ground onto him with a ferocious need. The strangely cool-yet-warm feel of his cum inundating her was a euphoria that no earthly pleasure would ever match. She collapsed back against him, chest heaving and still pinned on his cock, which her cunt greedily refused to release. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, sighing in immense relief and satisfaction. To be continued in part 3. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts for Literotica.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; again;" She may have needed the orgasm, but it did nothing to improve her mood. It didn't help that the song 'This Christmas' by Shoes had begun playing as the cumming ended. When it finally felt like her legs would work again, she turned around and slumped into a corner of the tub, as far from Juan as possible. Ginny stayed still for some time, until her feet and fingers felt that annoying level of pruny that made everything awful to touch. With the heat of the water and all the alcohol she'd drunk, she was feeling rather light-headed, so she turned off the stereo and shut off the lights. She found a plate of her fucked-up and burnt gingerbread cookies and left them on a table near the fireplace along with the jug of nog before beginning to head upstairs to bed. "Yeah. Fuck this day. And fuck tomorrow too. Maybe if I stay drunk enough it'll just fly by. Fuck Christmas." The second floor was an open space in the middle, looking down onto the main floor. A set of stairs led up on either side and the bedrooms were spaced around the gallery. She'd loved the design when she bought it, but this only increased her frustration when no one ever came to visit. "Gorgeous fucking house; ten acres of beautiful nature filled with deer and ugly-ass wild turkeys; a fucking pond people could skate on; shit, I even found a patch of landrace back there! What's not to love about my new home? Why aren't people shitting themselves in jealousy?" She reached the master bedroom, sighing at how big it felt since she had no one to share it with. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her naked body and sighing. She was trim and fit, with nicely-sized boobs, she kept her cunt shaved smooth and her full lips were simply made to suck cock. Her skin was fair and even and her dark brown hair was long enough to pull on if you were fucking her ass or taking her from behind. So what the hell was wrong? The bed was certainly big enough for two (or maybe her and two guys who didn't mind getting close), but she plunked herself down into it and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the room to stop drunk-spinning. It took longer than she wanted it to, but things finally slowed down an she breathed deeply. She reached over with her hand and fumbled around inside the drawer of the nightstand. She finally withdrew an elegant glass dildo, a barely opaque white with bright red stripes curling around it to simulate a candy cane. It had been a Christmas gift from Claire, who had jokingly given it to her until she found a man for herself. That bitch. "Well, Frosty," she sighed, examining him. "Looks like it's you and me tomorrow. I promise to not get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or get more booze, okay? Because I'm here for you;" And with that she kissed the dildo and put it aside. She turned out her lamp and sighed deeply as she lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take her. "Fuck Christmas;" A noise from downstairs. Her eyes snapped open. She was sure she'd heard something. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths to try and calm herself, reasoning that she'd been drunk and it might just be hangover noises. Maybe just something like branches scraping on the roof or across the walls? Ginny felt a flush of anger and slowly rose, getting out of bed and putting on a plush yellow robe. There were definitely sounds downstairs. She grabbed her rape whistle and her high-school field hockey stick off the wall before quietly opening the door and proceeding out of the room. Her cheeks flushed with fear and anger. How dare someone invade her house? And in this fucking weather! "Burglars? Ruffians? Escaped cons?" "Well, at least if they see you they might have their way with you and break your dry spell." She shook the vile notion from her head, wondering where the hell that'd come from. Could she be that desperate to get laid? Ginny walked as quietly as she could, hearing noises on the roof. Raccoons? Looking to get in from the cold? Fucking trash pandas. She rounded the corner of the gallery and put her foot on the top step, her hockey stick ready. She crept down the stairs, still hearing the noises. They seemed to be coming from her living room. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to identify anything that might be amiss. Then she saw him, a symphony of red trimmed in white, the huge ass swaying back and forth as the intruder was bent over her at the base of her Christmas tree, doing God only knows what to it. He seemed to be humming to himself. She walked up silently until she was maybe ten feet away from him, her hockey stick over her shoulder, ready to swing. He didn't hear her or took no notice of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she growled through clenched teeth. "But you'd best get the fuck out of my house or I'll hit you so hard Google won't be able to find you." The person in red paused in their activities and then stood up slowly. After another moment's pause, they stood up and turned around slowly. He was slightly taller than average and quite a bit fatter than societal norms allowed. He had a fat face with dancing blue eyes and red cheeks. Beneath the tapered red hat was long, silvery-white hair and a very full beard and moustache. The intruder looked at her and grinned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked with a voice that could only be described as jolly. Ginny said nothing. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. She wanted to say something, anything, but she seemed to have been robbed of the power of speech. "W, who;" she finally managed to stammer. "Yes, Virginia," the visitor said quietly but pleasantly in a soothing voice. "There really is a Santa Claus." She blinked and shook her head, trying to articulate a coherent thought. The big man in red chuckled, clearly amused by her predicament. "Your egg nog was very good," he mentioned as he walked forward a little. "Your cookies needed a little work, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe a cookbook next year?" "Stay still!" she snapped, suddenly coming out of her stupor and holding the hockey stick behind her head as if she was winding up for a hit. "I'll deck you, old man!" "Oh, there's no need for that," he said cheerfully, totally unconcerned by her threat. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it, Ginny?" "Why do you know my name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Of course I know it," the man claiming to be Santa said jovially. "I'd be pretty lousy at my job if I didn't, right?" "If you're really Santa," she said tightly, still not understanding why she hadn't knocked this guy's head off his shoulders yet. "Then what was I doing the night of October seventeenth last year?" He tilted his head to the side a little and pursed his lips. "Are you sure?" "C'mon, you haven't got all day." "Very well," he said, sighing. "You were sitting in McPhearson's Pub, waiting vainly for Greg from IT to show up, because you'd given him a blowjob in the bathroom earlier that day and promised him more. But he went off with Becky from Accounts that night instead of meeting up with you." She blushed furiously at the memory. "I; that wasn't the day I meant! I meant the sixteenth!" He shrugged. "You had the day off and were really frustrated. You slid a condom over that very field hockey stick and used it on yourself, just to see what it was like." Ginny dropped the stick very suddenly. "How the hell do you know that, you perv?" The man shrugged. "I know all about you, Ginny. And every other boy and girl in the world" "Don't give me that horseshit!" she hissed, glaring at him. "I had too many Christmases where I didn't get what I want to buy into that cockamamie story!" "Well, you weren't exactly the most exemplary child, were you?" he reasoned. "I mean, you weren't horrible, it's not like you were out kicking puppies into woodchippers, but you spent more time in the naughty column that the good column, didn't you?" "What did I ever do that was so naughty?" she demanded hotly, her fists bunched up at her sides. "You and your brother could get rather friendly, couldn't you?" the man calling himself Santa pointed out. She faltered for a moment. "Lots of siblings play doctor. And those atomic booty bombs where I kept jumping in the air and landing on him were just playful." "While naked?" Santa asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ginny blushed. "But that wasn't what landed you on the naughty list," he added. "What got you blacklisted was that you lied about doing your homework or cleaning your room while you were messing around with your brother. Your mom and dad would ask you to do your math and you'd slip away to play doctor instead and tell them you'd finished your homework after. Lying is naughty, right?" "Woah, hold the phone here," she said loudly, holding her head as if she was suddenly dizzy from a revelation. She didn't seem to notice that her robe had opened slightly, exposing her cleavage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fibbing to my parents kept me from getting the gifts I wanted?" "Were the rules unclear?" Santa asked. "I thought the songs on the subject were so easy to follow." Ginny pinched her eyes in exasperation and then scowled at him. "I'm drunk," she concluded, trying to convince herself none of this was real. "I'm drunker than Sarah Palin and you're not really here. I'm still in bed and this is all bullshit." Santa shrugged. "I was putting stuff under your tree until you arrived and enjoying the nog. I won't mind if you go back to bed." "No, you're not getting off that easily," she said in annoyance. "You broke into my house in the middle of the storm of the fucking century and I want answers, dammit!" He shrugged. "Fair enough. Ask away." Her eyes narrowed again. "Aren't you on kind of a time crunch? Unless I'm the last person on your delivery list, don't you still have a shit ton of houses to visit? Say, a few hundred million?" He waved it off. "I've got it covered, I promise. I have all the time in the world for you, Ginny. I always have." "What, so you sub-contract out?" she said snidely. "Got FedEx making the rounds for you? Or maybe your 'Elves'?" She mentioned the last bit with air quotes. "Goodness, this has been a bad year for you, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. "But to answer your question, I am capable of being many places at once." "Oh, so now you're the Kwizatz-Haderach?" she asked archly. "Hey, it's not just cinnamon I put in my Christmas cider." Santa chuckled. "It's rather complicated to explain." "So do you, like, clone yourself?" she asked, her guard seeming to slowly come down. "No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "It involves Cherenkov Radiation, a Holmes field, a Gellar field and, to quote a friend of mine, 'a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey; stuff.'" "So it's some sort of deep quantum shit?" she asked, her body finally relaxing. He nodded, smiling. "Yes, it's very temporal and quantum. I can be many places at once. It's why I don't have to pay for billions in window repairs every year by going supersonic around the world." "So even while you're talking to me, you're delivering presents?" she asked, the sheer depth of the conversation hitting her now. She walked over to a stool and sat on it. "Like I said, it's difficult to explain without breaking out the chalkboard and calculator," he answered. "The magnetic lines between the poles help, especially the one that emanates from the Fortress of Solitude." Ginny blinked. "Fortress of Solitude? As in Superman? You're friends with Superman?" "Of course not!" the jolly man laughed. "There's no such thing as Superman, silly, he's a comic book character. Had you going, though." "Holy shit, Santa's a troll," she exclaimed, looking at him in bewilderment. "Well, okay, let's assume that this is all real and not a vivid hallucination resulting from a brain tumor. If I've been such a brat all these years, how do I make up for it? How do I get off the naughty girl list?" "Well, a little restraint would be a start," Santa suggested. "I'm not saying go out and become a Carthusian nun or a Buddhist priestess or anything, but you might try laying off the rampant promiscuity." "Why is that so bad?" she demanded. "What's so wrong with wanting to get banged?" "Nothing," he said simply. "But inevitably you get yourself into some kind of weird situation and end up lying your behind off and lying is a naughty thing to do. So try keeping your legs bolted together a little more." "Really;" she said, clearly not impressed. "Celibacy lessons from Santa Claus. Now I've heard everything." "According to my report here and speaking frankly, it's taken guys a lot less attractive than me a lot less effort to get you out of your clothes." Santa mentioned. "This coming from a guy who could clearly use a few P90-X sessions!" she shot back hotly, standing up, her robe opening further as she stomped toward him. He looked down at himself for a moment and guffawed. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that; hang on;" The man held his hands out to his sides and began to glow. The luminous display lit up the room progressively and Ginny held her hand in front of her face when it became too bright to look at for several seconds. When the light finally died away, leaving them once again in the softly lit living room, Ginny gaped in shock at what she saw. He was tall, powerfully built, with chiseled muscles, an eight pack and flawless, healthy skin. He'd removed his coat but the red pants remained, stretched tight over muscular thighs. Long, wavy, copper-colored hair fell past his shoulders and the full beard was reddish-gold. The sapphire-blue eyes stared down at her, still glittering with mirth. "Holy Jesus on a pogo stick;" she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're a total lumbersexual;" "This is what I really look like," he said, spreading his hands out to the sides and showing her his body. His chest rippled as the muscles flexed with the motion. "But kids react to the fat old man disguise better." "I'll bet mothers don't," she murmured, coming forward as if compelled and reaching out to touch his chest and washboard abs. "It's like you're Photo-shopped." He smiled as her hands caressed his abs. "You make me want to not get off the naughty list." "I think I know what you really want for Christmas;" he said slyly. Ginny paused and looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" "No, I can't lie." the man in red pants replied. "I thought it was Superman who couldn't lie." "Well, the writers had to get that idea from somewhere, I guess." Santa mused. "In any event, if you want, you could end up on the good girl list by being rather naughty." She stared at him. "So; get laid by Santa for Christmas?" He shrugged. "There might be some other goodies in the bag for you, but I think we both know what Ginny really wants and needs for Christmas." "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!" she thought to herself, wrestling with her sensibilities. "If this is all just a dream, then I can fuck hunky Santa and have no regrets. If this is real, I can fuck sexy Santa and remember it in the morning! It's win-win!" "Well, this is super-easy," she declared. "Santa, I want you to fuck my brains out for Christmas." "With pleasure, Ginny!" he said, laughing merrily. "Whatever you like, however you want it. I have to keep the kiddies happy." "Good, but just don't say 'kiddies' anymore, because that's kinda creepy," she said, throwing her caution to the wind. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the oversized silver belt buckle and undoing it. Letting it drop, she put her fingers on the front of his pants, caressing them over the crotch. Her mouth went dry. "That'd better not be a secondary present sack you're teasing me with;" Ginny hooked her fingers into the top of the velvety pants and pulled them down, revealing his cock. She drew in her breath slowly, her eyes widening. "Jesus," she muttered. "You're hung like a fat kid's Christmas stocking;" "Thanks, I make due." Santa said cheerfully, watching her admire his cock. "By the way, shouldn't I call you something else?" she asked, looking up at him while her hand reached up to take his huge shaft, wrapping around it, barely. "I mean, most people call you Santa Claus, but isn't your name Nick or Kris or something?" He shrugged again, grinning. "Nick, Kris, Klaus, Pelznickel, Joulupukki, Kanakaloka, Dun Che Lao Ren, Weihnachtsmann, Swiety Mikolaj, Hoteiosho, Jultomten, I don't mind, Ginny. I just like hearing you say my name the way you think of me." "Hmm, Santa;" she replied, smiling as she stroked her hand along his shaft, eyeing it hungrily. How the hell was she going to fit that all in her mouth, forget her aching cunt? "Ah, don't use that word," he chided, holding up a finger. "Some words are still naughty, even when you're an adult." "Stay out of my mind then, creeper." Ginny said as she leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the fat head of his cock. She flicked it around the tip and then slowly took it inside her mouth, tongue rolling against it. "The hell? How can his cock taste like mint?" "Just wait til you taste my cum." Santa said, leering. "Fine, but it better not taste like turkey gravy or we're gonna box." Ginny said as she pulled her mouth back for a moment. She pumped her hand gently along the shaft, studying her quarry intently. It was definitely the biggest cock she'd ever taken on, and the best-tasting. She'd been experiencing trippy magic all evening, maybe she could fit this monster in her mouth this one night; She put the head back in her mouth and relaxed, slowly pushing down the shaft. She moaned as she felt him slide to the back of her mouth and then to her throat. She felt him tremble and lay a huge but gentle hand on the back of her head. "Holy shit; I'm deep-throating Santa Claus;" Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and then tried to relax. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the whole minty cock thing was throwing her off. Her tongue undulated along the underside of his shaft while the fingers of one hand formed a ring around the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, fondling them. Ginny was proud of her cocksucking skills and if there was anyone she ever needed to impress with them (aside from her 11th Grade math teacher), it was probably Santa. She calmed herself and began pulling her mouth back along his length, humming and letting her lips vibrate softly on his sensitive skin. "Now I know why Mister Bondi gave you that A in math," Santa chuckled. "You're a very naughty girl, Virginia." "Hmm, only for you, Santa baby;" she cooed as she pulled her mouth off his cock long enough to respond, stroking slowly and swirling her tongue around the head again. She then slid back down the entire length, moaning in pleasure. She could feel her nipples getting hard and her cunt was very, very wet beneath her robe. Both his hands were on the back of her head now and holding her gently but firmly. She began to slowly bob back and forth, thrilled at how she was able to take this enormous beast of a cock all the way in her mouth. Sure, maybe there was some weird physics involved that compressed space and time or some shit, but she didn't care and he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, very good, Virginia;" he said softly, stroking her hair. No one ever called her Virginia and she didn't know why it gave her a tingle when he did. His cock was very full and very hard now, like a pulsing iron rod covered in mint-flavored velvet. She almost giggled at the thought of how crazy this all was. She really hoped it wasn't a dream. Her thumb began to squeeze along the underside of his cock as her hand followed her mouth up and down his length. The shaft glistened wetly and the mint was making her drool. She undid her robe and let it fall away, the air of the room kissing her flushed skin. Her hands now took hold of his powerful thighs and she began moving back and forth along his cock more quickly. She could feel his hands flexing in her long, dark hair, caressing her skin. Breathing through her nose, she moaned as she sucked ardently, her cunt almost aching with desire. She was hoping he would last long enough to fuck her when he went rigid suddenly and groaned, gripping her head tightly and his hips shuddering. Ginny's eyes widened as she felt him began to cum inside her mouth, spurting strongly. She began swallowing hastily, almost in a panic as Santa pumped his hips against her face. "Holy shit! Fucking eggnog?" He kept cumming and she was sure she might actually drown when he pulled his huge cock out of her mouth and pumped it furiously in his hand, spattering her tits and stomach with his glistening load. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It tingled on her skin. Finally, Santa relaxed, allowing Ginny to put her mouth back around his cock and suck the rest of his cum from him. He was sighing and breathing rather heavily, apparently having enjoyed himself. She eventually released him and smiled up at him wickedly. "So," she cooed, winking while she gently pumped his cock with her hand. "Am I back on the good girl list?" "Oh, I'd think so," he said, grinned. "But it's not like I've given you your whole present yet." "Jeez, you can still go?" she asked almost in disbelief but also delighted. She really needed to be fucked hard now. "Your cock taste like mint, your cum tastes like nog, your ass probably tastes like hot cocoa or nutmeg and you can keep it up all night?" "Up all night is kind of my thing, at least once a year." Santa said cheerfully. "So how would you like for me to give you the rest of your present, Virginia?" "Well, golly, Santa," she mused, making a show of thinking while she stroked his cock. "Since you seem to be the gift that keeps on giving, how about we just wing it?" He nodded and she stood up, keeping hold of his cock and gently led him over to the large chesterfield, hoping it would hold his rather muscular frame. She knelt on it, resting her arms along the raised back and smiled at him, wiggling her behind. She wouldn't believe how wet her cunt was. "You gonna hurry down my chimney, Santa-baby?" she asked, smiling slyly. "I can't believe you just said that!" he laughed jovially. He may not have been older, fatter Santa, but the laugh still definitely suited him. He stepped up behind her and took gentle hold of her hips. She could feel him press against her ass and she shivered in anticipation. He slid his massive cock up and down between her ass cheeks, teasing her until she was writhing in desperation. He seemed to know instinctively what she loved most. Which only made sense, since he was Santa. "Ready, Virginia?" he asked as he pressed the huge mushroom head against her sticky cunt. She nodded eagerly, unwilling to speak. He slid the head in, parting her lips and penetrating her. She groaned loudly as he began to stretch her inner walls. With a slow, steady push of his hips, he pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside her. It robbed her of her breath, she'd never felt so full in her life, even that one time she'd been so horny she'd fucked her parent's bedpost. "Ah; uh;" she gasped, eyes wide. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever experienced. His cock completely filled her to a delightful stretch that didn't hurt except in the good way. His iron shaft throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It was wonderfully warm but also strangely cool all at once, tingling, like mint again. How the hell could her cunt taste peppermint? "Language, Virginia;" he chided again as he pressed in just a little bit further. By right his cockhead should have bruising her brainstem, but there was no doubt some weird physics shit involved that she decided not to think about. She was getting fucked by Santa, after all. She pressed her forehead against the back of the couch and tried squeezing her cunt around his titan cock or pressing back against him, squirming her ass against his hips. She shuddered in delight, loving how he felt inside her. His hands reached under her body and squeezed and massaged her tits, sending delicious thrills through her. He began to move slowly back and forth, pulling back until just the tip was inside her and pushing in steadily, almost robbing her of breath. She began to feel like a blacksmith's bellows very quickly. The feel of his cock sliding inside her, stretching her and touching deep inside in ways she hadn't known were possible; "Oh my god;" she gasped, fingers digging into the back of the couch. "You're tearing me apart and I love it;" "Only the best for my Virginia," he said, his ruddy cheeks taking on a flush tone as he fucked her. Her fingers squeezed the meat of her thighs and hips or flexed on her ass cheeks. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt as he drove inside her. Strong yet gentle, forceful and commanding yet accommodating. She felt dominated yet exalted somehow. His hand wrapped in her hair and she groaned loudly as he pulled on it, craning her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, feeling her spine almost accordion as he thrust inside while pulling her head back. Her could feel the pulse of his cock through her whole body. Her nails scratched along the couch, almost clawing it. "Uh, you're gonna make me cum so fucking hard;" she wailed, feeling the sweat forming on her skin. "Oh my gawd;" "You're going to make me cum hard too," he panted, thrusting deep inside, thumping his hips against her ass. "You feel wonderful and tight, Virginia;" "Oh, God, he's gonna cum in me;" she realized. "Santa's gonna fucking cum in me and he's not wearing anything! Will my birth control work? Shit, will my kids always smell like mint?" "Oh, God, cum in me!" she panted, thrusting herself back against him and grinding shamelessly. "Fucking cum in me, Santa!" "Ya want me to cum in you?" he hissed, his body beginning to tremble. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside her. "Want my cum in you?" "God, yes!" Ginny squeaked, clenching her teeth. "Fucking cum in me and make me scream!" They strained against one another desperately and then she cried out as a massive orgasm crashed over her. It battered her senses as she felt his hot-yet-tingly-cool cum bathing her insides relentlessly. Her cunt was making greedy sucking sounds as she came, her whole body shuddering almost uncontrollably. She squeezed and clenched and rippled her tight tunnel round him, reveling in the way he stretched and penetrated her ever more deeply. She collapsed against the chesterfield, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. His massive, hard cock was still deep inside her, pinning her to him. She felt like she was made of lead, an exquisite exhaustion while pleasure crawled over her languidly. That was beyond anything she had ever experienced. But he didn't seem to be done with her. His powerful hands took hold of Ginny and turned her around so she was squatting on the couch, her knees spread wide and her arms slung across the high back. She looked up at him in weary astonishment as he nestled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her sopping cunt again. "Ah!" she wailed as he slid deep inside her again, his huge cock splitting her wide. Her nails dug into the couch again and she clenched her teeth as she sucked in her breath. Ginny tried to regulate her breathing while Santa began sliding in and out slowly, looking down at her with those penetrating blue eyes. "Jesus," she grunted, feeling almost like a rag doll in his hands, which gripped her hips. "Gonna fucking kill me with that thing!" "Oh, let's hope not," he replied, thrusting into her strongly. "I'm nowhere near done with you." She gazed up at him, trembling as he fucked her good and hard. She bit her lip as he squeezed her thighs, before moving his hands up to squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples. She groaned shamelessly as the delicious sting electrified her senses. She tried to squeeze herself around him, baffled by how big he felt inside her. She gasped and whimpered as he slapped her cunt lightly. She reached forward and raked her nails over his powerful chest, leaving red marks along the defined muscles. She ground her hips against him wantonly, thrilling to the look of pleasure on this face. "Uh, fuckin' wreck me;" she gasped, feeling another massive climax building inside her. "Make me cum on that beautiful cock, Santa!" "I'll take 'Things Virginia Never Thought She'd Ever Hear Herself Say' for a thousand, Alex!" he laughed. He reached down and took her ass her hands and pulled her closer, smiling warmly yet wickedly into her eyes as she sank further onto his cock, which penetrated her to the deepest depths yet. She could feel the head pressing against her womb. It didn't hurt, but she felt fuller and more stretched than ever. She felt him squeeze her ass cheeks while he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, bumping up and down on his powerful thighs. She moaned loudly and bit his shoulder, trying not to shriek. She tried to squeeze herself around him again, finding that she could barely control her muscles, let alone fuck. She bit down as the warmth spread through her, tears of pleasure in her eyes. He thumped his hips against her even more strongly and they strained against one another. Then he growled and released himself, pumping her once again full of his tingling cum. She shuddered and cried out loudly, her head spinning from the unreal ecstasy. Crushing herself to him, Ginny held on desperately, like a ship battered by an unrelenting storm. They both slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily. She felt small and almost cocooned in his embrace. She was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and could feel the thrilling tingle of his cum trickling out of her cunt. It wouldn't be a stain on her couch, it was a mark of honor. Their hearts pounded in rhythm as the orgasm passed over them and slowly flowed away. "Holy shit;" she whispered, her body still limp in his arms. "I think you've ruined me for sex. I should be mad;" "You have to admit, it makes sense that I'm better at gift-giving than anyone else on the planet." Santa reasoned, smiling and stroking her hair while she sat in his lap. "I'd say you were a little pent up there." "Mild understatement," she moaned, finally raising her head and smiling up at him. "Thank you, first of all. That was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." "I aim to please," he said cheerfully, caressing his thumb across her cheek and enjoying the shining look in her eyes. "Kinda my thing, after all." "So," Ginny purred, walking to fingers up his broad chest. "Is there a Mrs. Claus?" He shrugged. "There has been, of course." She paused suddenly and looked up at him, her smile replaced by a deadpan look. "What do you mean, there has been?" He seemed somewhat confused by her change in demeanor. "Well, there has been a few in the past, of course, there was Seeki first, then there was Ahoop, followed by Annalina, then Layla, Martha, Juliana, Gretchen and Jessica, Santarina, Kasey, Mary;" "I see," she said stonily. "You've had more wives than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands." "Well, to be fair, they've been spread over a long period of time." Santa replied. "And they were all special to me." "So then I'm not special." Ginny said flatly. "Well of course you are," he said, not understanding her mood swing. "You're my Virginia." "And Becky down the street is your Becky, and Sarah in the blue house is your Sarah and Hilda in Dusseldorf is your Hilda," she concluded. "Everyone's equally special to you, aren't they?" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not being fair," she sighed. "I just; well, I thought maybe this; ya know, tonight, was truly special. And clearly you're not good at lying." "Well, no, not at all." Santa agreed, still holding her and wondering how he could comfort her. "I can't lie." "Like, literally can't?" she asked, now curious more than anything. "It's part of your genetic makeup that you can't lie?" "No, nothing like that," he admitted. "But after spending centuries with kids and teaching them to always tell the truth, I haven't tried telling a lie in so long I don't even know how to do it." "You don't know how to lie?" she mused. "If I did, it wouldn't be the least bit believable," he said. "Like, if I said right now that your breath smells wonderful and not like old eggnog and vomit, I somehow doubt you'd believe my lie." "No shit," Ginny replied, giving him a stony look. "You're a horrible liar. You've got the subtlety of a cement truck. Good thing you're Santa and don't have to date to charm a girl." He held her close, hugging her tight to comfort her. She sighed deeply, still impaled on his hard cock, which showed no sign of abating. "God, I can't believe you've still got wood after cumming like a fire hydrant three times," she said, her mood softening. She was having the best sex of her life, she reminded herself not to ruin it by being crazy. "How long can you keep going?" He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "How long do you need me to?" "Actually, it doesn't surprise me that's your answer." Ginny said, smirking. "If you've got the time, I've got another itch that needs scratching." He grinned. "So you haven't broken in that hot tub yet, have you?" "Oh, Santa;" she purred, leaning in and biting his earlobe. "Like you don't make me wet already." He picked her up and carried her toward the Jacuzzi, deftly turning it on with his foot and bringing it rumbling to life. He stepped down into the churning water, setting her one of the seats. As he stood up, she leaned forward and hungrily took his enormous cock into her mouth, sucking ardently. She moved forward and knelt in the water, her hands on his hips again or stroking his balls. He picked her up bodily and turned her upside. Ginny squeaked in surprise at first but found his hips in front of her and began sucking again on his tool without delay. He buried his face in her cunt, tongue snaking deep inside her and she groaned gutturally, Holding her in place with one powerful hand, her teased her taint and then pressed a finger into her ass. "Jesus!" she gasped, almost choking on his cock as he wormed the finger down into her tight tunnel. "Oh, fuck! Your finger is bigger than some dicks I've fucked!" She attacked his cock again eagerly, bobbing back and forth like her life depended on it. She squirmed in his grip as he lashed her cunt with his tongue and fingered her ass. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and her knees locked around his neck. His cock throbbed in her mouth, still thrilling her with its unique and incredible taste. He turned her around again and paid her on the edge of the hot tub, spreading her legs wide. She looked on wantonly as he pushed his tongue back inside her again. He gripped her thighs to hold her in place and she groaned and squirmed, squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he drove her to the limit of her sensations. Ginny shook and thrashed as she cried out loudly, cumming on his face. He didn't let up, lapping at her essence eagerly. She lay like a dead thing for several seconds before her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes opened, gazing back at him. She couldn't feel her limbs, just floating on a tingling ocean of deep colors. Santa looked up at her and smiled, pulling his tongue out of her cunt and kissing her clit gently. She shivered at the touch. "One hole left, Santa," she breathed, her body glistening. "Got any left in you to perfect my Christmas?" "Always for you, Virginia." Santa said warmly, standing and raising her gently into a sitting position. He settled down into the water on one of the seats and then pulled her onto his lap, facing away from him. She moved her hips around until she found his rock-hard cock, waiting for her. She placed her puckered knot against it, giggling as she thought about what he was about to do to her. She took his shaft in her hand and held it steady while she sank down, very slowly. Ginny gasped and shivered as the head pushed aside the tight ring of muscle, popping inside her. Then she sighed as she lowered herself, feeling his massive cock stretching her tight tunnel wide. God, she felt so full it was unreal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ass cheeks pressed to his lap. He was all the way inside her ass and her held her closed as she settled back against him, purring in sensual pleasure. "Umm, it's never felt this good in my ass before," she said softly, her arms reaching back to curl around his neck. She gyrated slowly on his lap, moaning softly. "A gal could get used to this." His muscular arms wrapped around her and caressed Ginny's body, massaging her tits. She loved how she felt pinned to him. She had finally found the measure of her body and began to squeeze her tight ass around his cock. She squirmed in slow circles on his lap, wishing she had some music to fuck him to. Her stereo system suddenly came on and began playing 'It's Cold Outside'. She giggled and squeezed his neck gently at his thoughtfulness. "You think of everything, don't you?" she purred, lost in her pleasure. "I can't wait to make you cum again." He smiled wickedly and pulled gently on her nipples, causing her to groan at the welcome sting. She pressed her ass back into his lap, squeezing again around his throbbing shaft. The water bubbled and churned around her waist, the heat leaving her skin shining. She began to pant as she moved her hips faster, stopping the circular motions and started to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of her. Santa took hold of her hips and let her bounce on his lap. Ginny leaned forward, gasping as she fondled her tits, overcome with a liquid heat as his cock impaled her faster and faster. Water splashed around them as the fucking took on an almost frantic pace. Ginny had never felt anything in her ass like this before, nothing even close to this good. She could very easily become an addict. "Uh, fuck!" she grunted, slamming her ass down on him while one hand snaked down and began massaging her cunt and clit. His hands steadied her and helped moved her up and down. She could feel his hips trembling beneath her, his fingers flexing and squeezing her skin. Her panting became a long, drawn-out keening. She clenched her teeth, shuddering and straining as she tried to prolong the fucking; Ginny screamed and pushed herself back against his massive chest violently, thrashing as she clenched his cock inside her ass while he came. His cream flooded inside her, the unreal hot-cool tingling transporting her. He growled in her ear, almost crushing her comparatively tiny frame against himself. She collapsed, utterly exhausted, her chest rising and falling as the world spun around her. She felt him holding her gently, caressing her body in unique ways that seemed to; regulate her blood flow and nerve sensations, making the post-orgasmic bliss she was feeling last as long as possible. She felt herself smile and hum at his consideration, understanding this this is who he was and what he was meant to do. Ginny then did something she almost never did during sex, she leaned her head back, pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply and with great affection. She held it for as long as she could and then sank back into his embrace, sighing in contentment. "Wish you were advertising for a Mrs. Claus at the moment," she said softly. "I could get used to this." "I like things the way they are," he replied, hugging her. "Every year I get to reward you for being a good girl. What could be better than that?" "True, I guess," Ginny agreed. "I'm only human, all this sex could kill me." "Hey, I'm human too, you know," he chuckled. "Just because I'm immeasurably older than you and subject to quantum laws even my smartest elf couldn't explain doesn't mean I'm a member of some other species." "Okay, that's fair, although I'd still fuck you if you were an alien or some extra-dimensional being." Ginny admitted. "You've come in me a lot tonight, daddy. Do I need to” "No," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sterile, but you can't get pregnant unless I decide you will and I've never allowed it." "I wonder what a Santa kid would be like," she mused. "More like you or the mom?" "No idea," he confessed. "There's not exactly a manual, so I've never taken a chance." She slowly leaned forward and began to rise, shivering as she slid off his long cock and it popped out of her. She knelt and turned around to face him, not sure she could stand yet, looking up at his still hard cock and giggled, pressing her finger against the head. "Well, I think you can take him off duty, sir," she said sweetly. "I'm pretty sure that I'm all fucked out for the night, if not the whole season." He chuckled and let his cock soften, looking into her eyes and caressing his cheek. "Hopefully that was what you needed for Christmas." "Definitely, Santa." Ginny said, giggling. "Is it greedy to want the same present again next year?" "Not at all," he replied, grinning. "It cuts down on elf-labor hours if I can give people a gift mysteriously." Santa paused in speaking, going silent and looking around, as if listening for something. Neither of them touched the controls, but the motor for the jets turned off and all that could be heard was the howling roar of the winter storm outside. Ginny looked at him in confusion, wondering why his features hardened and a scowl crossed his normally jovial face. "That's no storm," he said in a low, growling voice. "Not a regular one, anyway." "What does that mean?" she asked, his reaction worrying her for reasons she couldn't readily explain. What the hell was a 'not regular' storm, according to Santa, or anyone else for that matter? He stood up and strode out of the hot tub, taking her by the hand and pulling her out with him. Their naked bodies glistened with water but this was the farthest thing from her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, his consternation beginning to frighten her now. She watched as he tossed her the robe she'd been wearing earlier and then started pulling on his pants and sturdy black boots. "It's just a winter storm! Isn't it?" "I wish that were true," he replied, his expression grim. "Listen to me very carefully, Virginia. I'll need you to follow me instructions precisely. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Okay, but” "Good," he said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing. "It's very important to your safety." "Can you at least tell me what's happening?" she pleaded. "Krampus." Santa muttered darkly as he wrapped bright red straps around his wrists, tightening them. "I should've been more careful." "What's Krampus?" she asked, going pale and she paused in putting on her robe, one of her tits hanging out. "Krampus isn't a what, Krampus is a who," he said, his eyes scanning the layout of her expansive living room. "He's also called Black Pete in some places and legend says he's supposed to be my evil henchman who punishes wicked children." "I take it that's not true, then?" she asked, looking around like he did, wondering what he was searching for. "Not even close," he growled. "Pardon my French, but Krampus is an evil sonofabitch. He was, at one time long ago, my dedicated helper, but he turned down the path of darkness, becoming twisted and diabolic. Forget punishing children, he wants to destroy Christmas, like it never happened." "What's that got to do with us here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Can he reach us in this storm?" "This storm is his doing, I recognize it now," Santa said, striding over to his huge Christmas bag and beginning to rummage in it. "A massive storm always precedes his arrival. It can be mistaken for a regular winter storm if you're not paying attention." She swallowed. "So what does Kringus?" "Krampus." "What does he want here?" "He wants to destroy me," he said, tossing various toys and items out of the bag as he searched for something. "He used this regional winter storm of yours to cover his approach. Clever, for him." "We should call for help!" she said, shaking with fear. "Can't you, can't you call the Easter Bunny or something?" He paused his searched and turned to look at her, clearly bemused. "There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny, Virginia. What kind of rosy fantasy world do you live in?" He went back into the back and found what he was looking for. He turned around and tossed her something. "Here, take this but do not use it unless I tell you to." She caught the object and gaped at it in astonishment. "A nerf gun? Are you serious?" "You said you trust me, just take my word for it, okay?" he said firmly. He then stopped rummaging and stood up, taking several deep breaths, rotating his shoulders and wrists and cracking his knuckles. "Don't you; don't you need a weapon too?" she asked, watching him in concern, holding her nerf gun tight. Even though the room was already only dimly lit for ambiance, it seemed to be growing darker, the howling of the storm louder. "I don't need a weapon." Santa answered, his blue eyes glinting with determination and his muscles rippling as he limbered his body. "Let's hope I don't anyway." He pointed to the long wall with no windows. "Stand by your stereo system and do absolutely nothing until I tell you, okay? I cannot stress that enough, Virginia. Stay where I can see you and stay still away from any windows." She nodded and assumed her position, waiting quietly, her eyes wide with fear and all post-coital bliss drained from her, replaced by jolts of cortisol and adrenaline. She looked around herself nervously, the awful howl of the wind outside louder than ever. Then it subsided, followed by a deafening silence that was even more unnerving than the storm. "Damn," Santa muttered, his fists clenching. "He didn't come alone;" Ginny barely had time to register what he was saying before glass shattered and wooden walls splintered, followed by shouts and inhuman hisses. Ginny screamed in terror as dark shapes leapt into her house. And then all Hell broke loose. Chapter 2. Yes, Virginia, There Really Is A War On Christmas. "Holy shit! What the hell is going on? Is this really happening in my house?" Ginny watched in shock as some dark shadow crashed through her bay window. The invader tumbled and splashed into her hot tub, thrashing about as he tried to regain his footing. Ginny shrieked in fright as more figures tumbled in after him. Another one burst through the far wall, some kind of weapon in his hand. The lights were still out but the big room seemed even dimmer somehow, as if a living shadow had a stranglehold over the place. Dark shapes swarmed through the un-light, seemingly human in form, but she couldn't really be sure. Then he lunged past her, his massive frame almost a blur of motion, his golden-red hair and beard gleaming in the reflected light of the snow outside. Her eyes, wide with fright, now looked on in astonishment as he crashed into a knot of the intruders, his huge fists lashing out. One invader was knocked backwards, hurtling into the opposite wall with a resounding crunch, although whether that was the stone masonry of her wall or his bones giving way she couldn't tell readily. She dared not think about it. Santa spun around and drove his elbow into the back of another intruder. The vertebrae give way with a sickening crack and he went down. Without losing his momentum, the hulking harbinger of Christmas cheer lashed out savagely with his foot, the toe of the heavy black boot catching another foe under the chin and snapping his head back. The dark shape crumpled to the floor. "Jesus!" Ginny shouted in horror. "Virginia, don't take the Lord's name in vain!" Santa called out in a stern voice while he whirled about in a bloody orgy of violence. "Do you want to end up back on the Naughty List?" "How can you be thinking about that at a time like this?" she exclaimed, staying flat to the wall, her eyes, wide in fright. "I'm always thinking about that sort of thing," he explained as he wrestled an intruder into a headlock while looking at her. "I'm constantly aware of” He didn't finish the sentence as another enemy rushed up behind and slammed one of Ginny's chairs across his broad, muscular back, wood splintering as the stylish furniture sent him to the floor. "Ow;" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck while the foe he had in a headlock escaped his grasp. "Why the hell did you stop fighting and look at me?" Ginny shouted almost in exasperation. "Because I have to," he responded as his foes piled on top of him, hammering away with their fists. "Whenever one of my kids asks a question I have to give them my full attention and respond! That's how it works!" He surged up to his feet, throwing the crowd of assailants away. One foe threw a punch, but Santa grabbed the fist and twisted it over, causing his foe to shout in pain before he slammed his palm directly into the man's sternum, sending him flying while the arm remained firmly in Santa's grip. He then spun and slammed the bloody, disconnected shoulder remains across the head of a man behind him. "Oh, gross!" Ginny gasped. "Why would you do that?" "Because I want to live?" he called back as he rammed his knee into another foe's chest, doubling him over before gripping and wrenching his neck with a sickening crunch. "I really need to concentrate here!" "Sorry!" Ginny said hastily. "I'll try to stop asking questions now!" "Much obliged!" Santa replied. In spite of her confusion and terror, Ginny watched in stunned fascination as the wild melee whirled before her, swarmed by foes, Santa fought back with a resolute and cold ferocity, never stopping moving but also tight and controlled in his movements. He stopped attacks and dropped his foes with single blow, doubtless a killing one. His fighting style was efficient and; brutal. That's the only way she could describe it. "Is that Krav Maga?" she asked. "It's not Krav Maga," he said flatly as he rammed his fist into a foe's ribcage. "Trust me on this." To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts for Literotica.

Blizzard Revelations. Two best friends, stranded in a car, find fun ways to keep warm. Based on a post by LindseyLuv. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time. "Hey, Lindsey; you all set?" A tall, shaggy-haired fella came up from the basement guest bedroom, then strode the hallway, and called up the staircase to her 2nd story bedroom, from near the front door. Lindsey felt her stomach flutter once again. Jackson was actually back from college. In his hand, he carried a suitcase of his own, and a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at her as she came down the big oak stairs, and she nodded. "Yep, Jack; just gotta grab my rucksack and lock up, and we're good to go!" She couldn't remember when the two of them had first met. Their parents had been close friends for years, before they'd even been born. So far as she cared, she'd known Jackson forever. They'd grown up together, referred to each other as cousins. The pair had been almost inseparable, all the way up to Jackson leaving for college. Worst yet, his parents had to move; when the corporation shut down the local factory, and his dad had to move in order to fill another management position, or face unemployment at age 51. Lindsey’s anxieties were mounting, until yesterday, when his flight arrived. She'd been absolutely heartbroken last August. to see him go. But he kept his promise, that he'd visit as soon as he came back for the holidays. Which sadly coincided with her own family’s reunion. Her parents insisted that she come with them, but she negotiated a compromise. Jackson would use her car to drive her, on his way to his own relative’s gathering. It just so happened the day he flew back was the day before her Great Aunt's get-together, so while her parents left yesterday morning, she hung around to pick him up at the airport. The plan was for him to stay over that night, then drive the two of them, to drop her at the reunion, seeing as it wasn't too far from his cousins' place. That way, he could drive to his kin, and see them too. Then two days later he’d pick Lindsey up from the reunion, and drive her back a few days later, if she didn't want to stay the whole week, like her folks. She'd nearly tackled him near the baggage claim, when she saw him run down the airport concourse. The pair had spent the evening laughing, eating, and reminiscing. Jackson had plenty of stories to tell her about his first semester at college, and Lindsey eagerly hung on his every word. When he’d finally gone down to the basement guest bedroom, it was well past midnight. She’d already fallen asleep while the two were watching an old favorite DVD title. He’s woke her up and directed her to go up and get some sleep. By the time they were up and about, the next day; they realized there was no way they were going to make it on time. It was getting on for noon when the snow started to fall; lightly covering the driveway as Lindsey dragged her suitcase out to Jackson's car. She knew they were only going away for a week, but she wanted to be prepared, especially with the weather as it was, so she'd filled her bags with as many jumpers, woolly hats, and thick comfy socks as she could. A decision she was starting to regret as she struggled to heave the bulging suitcase into the trunk of her little car. Finally cramming it into the space, she stepped back, taking a moment to breathe. All around her, the snow fell lazily through the air, getting heavier by the minute, and she wondered if it would ease off much, before the two of them left for her great aunt's. 'Oh well, at least it'll be a white Christmas...' she thought to herself, before turning back towards the open door of her house. She loved almost everything about Christmas, but the annual family reunion certainly wasn't on the list. She could count on one hand, how many of her relatives she actually liked, and even then she had plenty of fingers spare. In fact, the only person she really cared about visiting, had just been her house guest. But that visit was nearly over. Only the car ride remained. “Start the car, Jack." "Cool-cool, but hurry up, I don't like the look of this snow. We might end up stranded in a blizzard, if we're not careful; and you'll miss your fam." Jackson shot her a wink. "And I know how much you'd hate that." Giggling at his sarcasm, Linsey ran back into her house. She'd left her rucksack just inside the door, and she quickly grabbed it before locking up and running back down to the car. The snowfall had gotten pretty heavy by now, and she saw Jackson chuck his stuff onto the back seat before getting into the driver's side door, and revving the engine. Burying her face in her scarf to keep warm, Lindsey threw her rucksack in the back as well, before climbing into the passenger side seat next to him. Clicking her seatbelt into place, she turned and gave him a nod, and off the two went. Relaxing back into her seat, Lindsey watched the snowflakes fall as Jackson gently took the car out of the driveway and onto the almost pure white road. Rubbing her hands together in the frigid air, she reached out and cracked up the thermostat a little, before settling back again. It wasn't a particularly long drive, only a few hours, but she could already tell it was going to be a chilly one. The snow wasn't too much of a problem while they drove through the city, salt trucks leaving the roads mostly clear. As they got out into the countryside, Jackson started to take it slower, carefully navigating the narrow lanes as the snow continued to fall. Once or twice they saw the skid marks of cars that hadn't been quite as cautious, and at one point a tow truck passed them, pulling the unfortunate survivor of a nasty off-road skid. The first hour passed quickly. The thermostat did its job, and the car quickly armed up enough for Lindsey to drop her scarf and gloves. The two friends chattered away happily as the miles passed, and the music from the radio helped fill any lulls. However, as the sun began to set, the snowfall only got heavier and heavier. Lindsey could feel herself getting increasingly nervous, finding it harder and harder to see the passing countryside, and could only imagine how hard it must be for Jackson at the wheel. "Damn it;" the young man muttered under his breath, craning forward to peer out between the falling snowflakes. Lindsey could feel the stress radiating off of him, and did her best to stay calm. The last thing she wanted to do is panic him any more than he already was. Pretty soon though, they both realized they were going to have to stop. The snow was falling so heavily now that neither of them could see the road, let alone anything else. Lindsey felt her stomach drop as Jackson shook his head, pulling the car up onto the verge at the side of the road. "Sorry Linds, I can't keep going in this. If we're lucky it'll blow over soon, and we can get going again, but for the meantime, it's just not safe;" Lindsey looked up at him and saw the look of concern on his face. "You might wanna call your folks." Lindsey gave him a worries nod. She could feel her stomach tying itself up in knots as she pulled out her cell phone. They were a long way from anywhere, out there, and if they got stuck overnight it was going to get very, very cold. Dialing her parents, she anxiously waited for them to pick up. "Hey, Dad, it's me. Um, yeah, me and Jackson are on our way, but the snow is; it's coming down pretty hard, so we're just going to pull over for a bit. No need to worry about us, it's all good. We're just going to be a bit later than we thought, that's all. I'll call you when we start moving again. Yep, yep, we'll be safe, don't worry. I love you too. See you soon" The young woman hung up, hoping she didn't sound too scared on the phone. "Ok, what do we do now?" Jackson frowned as he looked down at the fuel indicator. It was getting a little low. "Well, I think we should turn the car off for now, so we don't waste gas until we can start moving again. I don't wanna think about what'd happen if we; you know. Other than that, we just gotta wait it out I guess." Shutting off the engine, Jackson settled back into his seat as snow began to pile onto the windshield. Immediately, the car began to get colder, and Lindsey shivered as she bundled herself up in her coat. Outside, she could hear the wind howling, and she looked over to her friend, hoping for comfort, but only saw herself faced with a worried expression. "It'll be fine, don't worry. We just; gotta wait. For a bit" His voice sounded shaky as he tried to reassure her. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well. For the next few hours, the two sat and talked to try and keep their minds off the weather. Occasionally, Jackson would flick on the wipers to clear the snow on the windscreen so they could check the state of the weather, but it never improved. If anything, it was still getting worse. An hour passed, then two, and it started to dawn on the pair that things probably weren't going to improve that evening. "Maybe; maybe we should settle in for the night;" Lindsey's voice trembled as she spoke, partly from the cold and partly out of fear. "I'm gonna call my dad again;" Jackson nodded, his hands inside his sleeves as she fished her phone out again. "Uh, hey Dad? It's me again. The, um, the snow's not easing off, so we're going too; yeah, yeah I know; We're going to stay here for the night, ok? And we'll drive the rest of the way tomorrow? Ok? Don't worry, we've got loads of clothes and blankets and things, we'll be fine. Yeah, yeah we'll be careful. I know. I love you too. Bye." Lindsey hung up and turned to her friend. "He's not happy, but he knows there's nothing we can do." She let out a long sigh, looking at the floor. "Sorry." "Hey, it's ok, don't; don't worry, you don't need to apologize." Looking back up through the tears, she saw Jackson smiling at her, and felt his hand on her shoulder. Despite the freezing weather, Lindsey felt a little shimmer of warmth move through her at his touch. "You can't help the weather, can you? And it's cool, at least I'm not stuck out here alone." Lindsey chuckled as she fought back her tears. She wiped her eyes and looked back over her shoulder at the back seat. "What are we going to do about sleeping?" Despite their heavy clothes, she could feel herself starting to shiver. Jackson looked thoughtful for a second, before replying. "I guess we'll have to share the back seat; It'll be cramped, but we don't have much choice. The seats up here don't really recline at all." Lindsey nodded her head. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them had slept so close together, but she had to admit, this was a bit different. After all, they'd been kids last time. Ah well, better to be warm than worry about nothing, she thought to herself. "Do we have blankets or anything?" Again, Jackson looked thoughtful. "We could get our clothes out of the trunk? We can pile them on top of us to keep warm." He gave her a nervous smile. "Not quite blankets, but I'm sure they'll do the job." Lindsey felt a little knot in her stomach but ignored it. She had to admit, it was a good idea, but something about Jackson seeing all her clothes spread out made her feel nervous. It took her a moment to realize why, but by the time she had he'd already disappeared out of the car, hurrying towards the trunk to retrieve their suitcases. Ignoring it, she climbed into the back seat, settling across them as she heard Jackson rifling through their belongings in the freezing wind. As soon as she found herself in the back of the car, the young woman realized a slight problem with the plan. The seats weren't very wide, and unless they wanted to sleep upright or in the foot well, the two friends would have to sleep pretty much on top of each other. She swallowed hard. This situation just kept getting weirder and weirder. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the door to her left flew open, and a deluge of clothing poured across her. Caught off guard, the young woman yelped in surprise, eliciting a quick apology from her friend, stood in the doorway holding an empty suitcase. "Sorry, sorry, should've warned you!" Lindsey's yelp of surprise quickly turned to giggles of laughter. "Don't worry, just hurry up and get back inside before you freeze to death!" With a smile, Jackson nodded, throwing the suitcase back into the trunk before reaching down and grabbing a second. Hers. Lindsey felt the butterflies in her stomach again as he quickly unzipped it and emptied the contents over her again. She watched as her neatly folded laundry cascaded out of the bag, t-shirts and spare jeans tumbling into the foot well, along with, much to her dismay, all her underwear. Jackson didn't seem to notice, shaking the snow from his boots and quickly jumping in next to her. As he closed the door, shivering, she quickly grabbed a large fleece and threw it towards him. "Here, warm up a bit". Her friend smiled in appreciation, pulling the woolen jumper over himself. Lindsey looked around at the clothing carnage. She bit her lip. There was no way he wasn't going to see it all; pairs of silk panties and lace bras dotted the backseat, making her lingerie impossible to miss. Turning to her friend, she could feel her cheeks burning pink. "Uh, Jackson, do me a favor, could you just; ignore; the underwear?" Turning to look back at her, the young man looked confused, before his eyes scanned the seats and his own cheeks started to turn red. "Oh, uh; sorry, I; I didn't;" Lindsey couldn't help but chuckle. The flustered look on his face was adorable, and in that moment she couldn't think of anything but a lost puppy. She squeezed his arm under the layer of loose clothes. "Don't worry, you couldn't help it. It's my fault for packing everything into one suitcase!" The pair laughed nervously, before settling into silence. A few moments passed before Jackson piped up again. "So, uh, how're we; Ya know. Doing this?" The pair looked at the space between them. They both knew they couldn't fit next to each other, but neither person wanted to be the first to say it. Finally, Lindsey bit the bullet. "Do you wanna be on top or underneath?" She saw Jackson swallow heavily. "Uh, I'll go underneath, I guess? Don't want to crush you, after all." The young man chuckled, trying to defuse the awkwardness of the situation in the way he always did. Lindsey chuckled too. She had to admit, she hoped that would be the arrangement. After all, she was a lot smaller than he was. Shuffling towards the door to let him get comfortable, she replied: "After you then!" Taking off his boots, Jackson slid down onto the seats, piling the loose clothes up and over himself. Lindsey watched intently, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Why was she so nervous? It wasn't like they were doing anything weird. Well, weirder than being stuck in the snow. It was Jackson, she'd known him forever! Shaking her head, she gave him a smile, before settling down too. Instinctively, his hands came up to meet her, guiding her down on top of him. Immediately, she felt the warmth of his body through their clothes, and she found herself nestling into her friend as they awkwardly tried to avoid eye contact. The young woman could hear her heartbeat in her ears, the red flush of embarrassment getting stronger by the second. Reaching around them, the two started pulling the clothes across themselves, tucking them into the gaps on either side to insulate them from the cold. Carefully, Lindsey did her best to push aside anything she'd rather he didn't see into the foot well, some of the more risqué items catching Jackson's eye before he pointedly looked away, cheeks red. Pretty soon, the two were almost completely covered, only their faces poking out of the mountain of fabric. Doing their best to ignore the awkwardness of the situation, the two settled down. Lying on her front, Lindsey could feel her chest pressed close to Jackson, her tits squished close to his beating heart, and no matter where she looked, their faces were so close she always felt like she was staring directly at him. Eventually, she piped up. "Should I, uh, should I roll over, onto my back? Or, is this ok? What's; what works for you?" She tried not to think too hard about his answer. "I'm happy like this, if you are. Or not. Whatever" Her cheeks felt like they could burst into flames at any moment. "I, uh,; I think this is fine" From underneath her, Jackson's voice rose, shaky with nerves, and she wondered if he was feeling just as out of sorts as she was. With a nod, she turned away, resting her head on his chest. Despite settling in to sleep, the young woman's mind was racing. What were they doing? This was crazy, what if someone saw them together? Bundled up like this, at the side of the road, under the clothes? What would they think? She swallowed. She knew exactly what they'd think. And with a start she realized that excited her. A long, awkward silence hung in the air. Lindsey did her best to ignore her racing thoughts and settle down to sleep. Despite the mountain of clothes, she found herself still shivering, and nuzzled deeper into Jackson for warmth. After a while, she glanced up to see snow covering the windows, cutting the pair of them off from the rest of the world. It was just her now. Her and Jackson. She felt a tingle ran down her spine. Well at least we don't have to worry about anyone looking in and getting the wrong idea, she thought to herself. Settling in, her mind started to wander. Trying not to think about Jackson, she found herself pondering the situation they found themselves in. What would happen if the sow hadn't cleared by the next morning? Would they need to call for help? What if it got even colder? A sudden memory passed through her head, of an old TV documentary about arctic explorers. She remembered that often, when trapped in cold climates, people would strip off and share body heat to keep themselves warm. Immediately, she felt her blush returning. Behind her, she felt Jackson's hands move lower down her back, to just above her ass, and she froze. A voice in the darkness, breathless, whispered. Uh, is this ok? My, uh, my arms were getting a little cramped;" Lindsey felt her breath catch in her throat. "Y-yeah, it's fine, don't worry." Instinctively, she shuffled her weight a bit, making it more comfortable for both of them. The two lay in silence for a bit longer, before Lindsey felt her own arms beginning to cramp, her hands on the seat taking most of her weight to keep it off Jackson. Readjusting, she let her body fall, and found her hands around his shoulders, holding him close. "Is that ok too?" She felt him nod underneath her and felt a sigh of relief escaped her lips. His soft voice filled the quiet again. "Sure. Don't worry about squishing me, you're; you're pretty light, you know;" The two chuckled and fell into silence again. Lindsey felt conflicted. She couldn't help but notice how firm his shoulders were, how warm and strong his arms around her felt. Soon, she found her mind wandering again, and quickly diverted her attention elsewhere. No, this was Jackson she was thinking about! She could never; could she? From under her, she felt Jackson shift, awkwardly, nervously, before speaking again. "Uh, hey Lindsey, are you; are you still cold?" Lindsey felt her heart beating like mad in her chest. "Y-yeah, a little. Actually." She thought about the arctic explorers again and bit her tongue. No, how could she even be thinking about that? But, if it kept them warmer; She didn't know what to do. On the one hand, she desperately wanted the warmth, on the other; "You know, um, one of the, I heard on tv once that, when people get stuck in the arctic they, uh; well;" Lindsey trailed off. Holy shit, what am I saying? Under her, she felt her best friend brace himself, unsure where she was going with this, and she bit her tongue again. Can't go back now... "Body heat gets kinda; you know; trapped by the, uh; by clothes; So they, uh; yeah" She couldn't bring herself to say it, the words kept getting caught in her mouth. A long pause sat frozen in the air. "So; should we?" "Y-yeah. Yeah, I; I heard the same thing. So; yeah. I think we should. You know; get, uh;" Jackson's voice trailed off, before returning with his trademark humor, although she could tell from his voice how painfully nervous he was. Just like her. "Besides, it's already pretty awkward, right? What's the harm? It's not like we've never seen each other naked before;" Even so, that was a long time ago, and they'd both changed a lot since then. Still, Lindsey couldn't deny the truth in Jackson words. With a breathless nod, she sat up, and the two friends began to undress. The young woman tried not to look as Jackson first stripped off his t-shirt, followed by his shorts. He paused, hands on the waistband of his boxers, and turned to her, still averting his gaze. "Uh, should we; I mean, we could keep our underwear on; But... "Yeah;" Lindsey's own breathless voice joined his. "I; I'm sure it; uh, it'll work better if there's nothing blocking the body heat; right?" "Yeah, yeah, I think so too;" As Jackson reached down and pulled off his underwear, Lindsey averted her eyes again. She couldn't deny that part of her wanted to see him, stripped naked before her, but she did her best to ignore it. "Just; promise not to look, ok?" Jackson nodded. Staring pointedly at the roof of the car, Lindsey swallowed nervously before unbuttoning her shirt, letting it fall into the foot well as she fiddled with the zipper of her jeans. Down to her underwear, she could feel the bitter cold attacking her bare skin, and the desire to get back under cover overpowered her nerves. Fiddling behind her back with numbing fingers, she struggled to unhook her bra, and when she finally did she let out a yelp of surprise as the fabric slipped from her hand, sending the item straight down onto Jackson's face. A frozen moment hung in the air, before the pair started laughing. Settling back down, Lindsey, reached down and slipped off her panties, the momentum of the moment carrying her forward before she could second guess herself. Hurriedly dragging the mountain of fabric back over themselves, the pair did their best to ignore the feeling of the other person's naked body, pressed so close to their own. But soon they were snuggled down again, and Lindsey couldn't deny the way her bare tits felt pressed against Jackson's chest, her nipples stiffened by the cold and unmistakable against his skin. If she'd felt strange before, it was nothing to how she felt now. In the dark, she could feel her cheeks burning bright red, and she desperately hoped Jackson couldn't see. Between them, her heartbeat pounded in her chest, mixing with Jackson's as the two childhood friends held onto each other, already feeling warmer. She could barely breathe as she slid her arms back over his shoulders, feeling his hands take hold on her waist once again. Even though they'd held each other this way only moments before, without their clothes it felt so much more intimate, and Lindsey, could feel the butterflies in her stomach reaching a fever pitch. Between my legs, she felt a tingling in her loins, and she bit her lip hard in an attempt to calm herself down. Truth be told, she'd never seen a man naked before; she'd never had a boyfriend stick around long enough to get that far. Underneath her, pressed against her thigh, she could feel something hard, and it took her a moment to realize what it was. Concealing a gasp, the young woman. Is that; it can't be? But then, what else could it be? Lindsey realized it could be only one thing; Jackson's penis! Underneath her, she felt her best friend shuffle uncomfortably, and his half-erect cock pressed against her thigh, only inches from her virgin pussy. Lindsey felt a thrill of excitement ripple through her, but she repressed it. She didn't know what to think. Did he; Like her? How long had he felt that way? Was he; thinking about her now? She knew that last part had to be true. After all, she was thinking about him, and it had to be hard to think of anything else with a naked girl pressed on top of you. She couldn't believe this was happening, could never have believed it would happen. Part of her leapt for joy, but the rest of her was just as confused as ever. Should she say something? Try to take it further? Settling her head down onto his chest, she whispered out to him in the dark. "We should; we should sleep." "Yeah; Sleep;" Underneath her, she felt his cock twitch, still pressed against her soft thigh. Despite her words, she knew she couldn't sleep like this. A minute passed. Then another. Soon, an hour had gone by, and Lindsey was still awake, staring silently at the back of the chairs in front. The two lay together, perfectly still, until a voice broke the silence. "Lindsey; Are you still awake?" The young woman froe. She didn't know whether to speak up, or stay silent. Underneath her, she could still feel his hard cock, throbbing against her leg, and how hot it was making her feel. Between her thighs, she could feel how damp her pussy had gotten, and she squeezed them tightly together in an attempt to relieve the pressure. It didn't work. A long moment passed, and she didn't hear anything else from him. She wondered if she should've spoken up, should've said something, should've confessed how she felt, and she was seconds away from opening her mouth when a sudden movement made her pause. Behind her, she felt the grip on her back tighten, and the hips underneath her shift, just enough for the hard shaft pressed against her leg to slip between her thighs. She felt like her heart was about to burst out of her mouth. The thick rod felt even hotter squeezed between her legs, the head ever so slightly damp against her skin. It felt; nice. Really nice. Then she felt him start to move. Lindsey had to bite her lip to stop herself moaning as between her legs, Jackson began to thrust, sliding his cock against her, as the pressure of her legs kept him upright and rock solid. Her heart stopped in her chest as she felt him moving. Oh my god. Oh my god, he's really doing it! Her brain went into overdrive, trying to make sense of what was happening as she felt his cock thrusting slowly, softly, between her thighs. She knew she had to say something, but she had no idea what, especially not now. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop. So, in a mixture of fear and excitement, she lay still, and silent. Her pussy was absolutely soaked. Her pelvis felt hot, incredibly hot, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself moaning in pleasure, the simple act of his thrusts sending her body into a state of near-ecstasy. God, she wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside her, taking her, taking her virginity and making her a woman. Words couldn't describe how badly she wanted Jackson to toss her onto her back, clamp her mouth shut, and pound himself into her till she came. She lay still for what felt like an eternity, just waiting for him to take it further, to force himself into her, before the pressure became too great, and she began moving her hips back in time with his. Slowly, gently, she raised them up as he pulled back, and let them fall down as he pushed up. Not by much, no more than an inch, but it was enough to make her pussy gush with anticipation. Underneath her, Jackson let out a groan and started to buck his hips faster. He must think I'm asleep, she thought to herself. Should I? Maybe I should tell him; But despite her thoughts, Lindsey did nothing. She felt his hands move down her body, across the small of her back to her ass, giving it a soft squeeze as he continued to fuck her thighs. His thrusts started to get longer, driving further up and down, and soon she felt his shaft pressed against her nether lips. The feeling of him so close to her virgin entrance was just too much, and Lindsey let out an involuntary mewl of arousal. Immediately, Jackson's movements stopped, and the young woman bit her lip. Damn it! Don't stop now! From the darkness, she heard a voice, shaking with nervousness. "Lindsey? A-are you awake?" "Don't stop;" was all she managed to say. The lust in her voice surprised even her, the shaky, drawn-out vowels and underlying moan sending ripples through both of them. Immediately, she felt Jackson's hands tense up, squeezing her ass, before his hips started to move again. The girl shut her eyes tight, still moving her hips, drawing him closer to her virgin entrance. She couldn't deny it anymore; she wanted him inside her, want him to make love to her, right there, on the backseat of his car! She loved him, deeply, desperately, and she'd do anything to take things further. "Please; Jackson;" "Yeah?" The young man's voice was as breathless as hers., the tip of his cock pressed firmly against her slit, his hips grinding up and down, grinding against hers, making her whole body shiver with arousal. "I want you to; to fuck me; please; I can't take it anymore!" Without a word, she felt him grab her hips firmly, and press himself against her entrance. Even if she'd wanted to, it was too late to turn back now. With a firm push on the small of her back, he raised his hips, and Lindsey cried out as she felt his cock sink into her virgin snatch, piercing her hymen and burying itself in her to the hilt. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Jackson, a look of absolute pleasure plastered on her features. She stared down for a long, silent moment, mouth hanging open and eyes wide, adjusting to the feeling of penetration, before reaching out and cupping his face, her best friend-turned-lover, and kissing him deeply. Between them, she could feel her walls relaxing around his girth, expanding to fit his thick member, and growing braver she began to over her hips once more, rolling them softly and mewling into his mouth as the two began to make love. Her movements were jerky and clumsy, but as she stared into Jackson's eyes, she could think of nothing but the love she felt for him. Holding on tight, she started to ride him fast, lifting her hips and letting them drop down again, feeling his firm shaft slide in and out of her sopping snatch. In response, Jackson began to move his hips too, thrusting up to meet her, pushing himself deep into his childhood friend before withdrawing. It took a while for the pair to find their rhythm, but soon they were fucking like crazy. Lindsey moaned loudly until Jackson pulled her head back towards him, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her more passionately than ever. As his cock sank into her over and over again, his tongue slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers as he took her virginity. She didn't know if he was still a virgin, but she honestly didn't care. "I wanted this for so long, Lindsey. Wanted you. I love you" "I, I love you too; I've l loved you; for years!" Lindsey's high-pitched voice mingled with her moans. "I'm sorry I pre; pretended to b-be asleep!" Her pussy was on fire, the sex felt better than anything she'd ever experienced before, and as she confessed her feelings for her best friend her movements only get faster, more desperate, pumping her hips as hard as she could while underneath her Jackson bucked and groaned. "I wanted to s-see how far you'd go; whether you.. wanted me too; I'm s-sorry;" She shut her eyes tight in shame, keeping her hips moving as best as she could. Just then, she felt Jackson grab her tight, and flip her onto her back, rolling on top of her and quickly forcing his cock back into her quivering pussy. Lindsey squealed, the sudden change of position exhilarating her, and she grabbed hold of his back as Jackson growled, pounding into her with a fury she'd never seen from him before. Legs up in the air, dangling uselessly, the young woman cried out in pain and pleasure as her lover buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting her as he fucked her mercilessly. Underneath her, she felt his hand still groping at her ass, and as he drove his cock into the deepest parts of your aching pussy, she could only moan and mewl. With his cock thrusting deeply in and out of her, she was helpless to do anything but shake your hips back up in time, squealing and moaning in erotic ecstasy. In the heat of the moment, she barely registered her legs, wrapping around him, keeping him deep inside her as she clung on to his back for dear life, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. Inside her, she could feel the first sparks of climax beginning to ignite, and she cried out into Jackson's ear as he dominated her, the man of her dreams, her childhood best friend. "Yes! Fuck me, fuck me, Jackson! I love you, I love you so much! Fuck me!" Above her, she felt his pace start to falter, and she wrapped herself even tighter around him. Completely lost in the pleasure, his face buried in her neck as she hung on tight to his shoulders, she knew he must be getting close too. Each deep thrust sent new waves through her, and with each passing second, she felt her climax rising. "Yes! Yes! Yes, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, I’m gonna!" With a sudden cry, she felt herself crash over the edge, her whole body spasming as a wave of incredible pleasure washed over her, dulling her senses as she began to cum. She let out a shriek of ecstasy as her lower body began to rock and shudder, squeezing her pussy around her lover's cock as she came. The ripples of pleasure exploded throughout her entire body, sending her muscles spasming and her legs shaking around his waist. She felt her back arching painfully as her body, wracked with pleasure, crashed through her climax, her entire being seized by spasms as the walls of her pussy quivered and contracted. Through the chaos of her climax, she was dimly aware of Jackson fighting against his own orgasm, trying to pull himself out before he blew his load inside her, but her legs wrapped so tightly around him kept him buried inside. Digging her nails into his back, she wailed out through her orgasm "Cum in me! Cum in me! Do it, please!" Finally, she felt his hips slam forward one last time, his cock pushed deep, deep inside her, as the warmth of his cum began to spread throughout her abdomen. The feeling of being cream-pied only made her cum harder, and a second wave of spasms crashed across her. By the time the two of them were finished, Jackson was well and truly spent, his balls thoroughly emptied into Lindsey's tight teen twat. As their orgasms subsided, he collapsed on top of her, panting as his semen pooled inside her pussy. "Wow;" Lindsey lay beneath him, unable to speak, just panting happily with a smile on her lips. She pulled him in close so she could kiss him again, before wrapping her arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. "Yeah; What a way to stay warm;" Jackson chuckled at that. "You; you really wanted me for that long?" Lindsey nodded. "For as long as I can remember;" She felt him sigh, and she giggled as he ruffled her hair. "God, I love you Linds;" "I love you too;" leaning up, she planted a kiss on his cheek. Words could describe how happy she was. No, not happy, overjoyed. "You know; something tells me the snows not gonna let up anytime soon;" She gave him a wink. "And there's a lot of other stuff I've always wanted to try. Jackson laughed again, nuzzling back into her neck as he kissed her, his skin hot against hers. As he moved, his softening cock slipped free of her pussy, followed by a thin trail of semen, which ran out of her and began pooling on the car seat below. Lindsey smiled. "You came inside;" She didn't sound angry, or surprised, just; content "Yeah, I guess I did; Not that I had much choice, the way you were clinging to me." He nibbled her ear softly before whispering into it. "But I really liked it;" Lindsey let out a contented mewl. "Me too, it felt amazing;" I giggle softly, and snuggle closer "But something tells me I should start taking birth control from now on. You wouldn't want to fuck a baby into your best friend, now would you?" She laughed again, feeling his cock stiffen underneath her in response. "So, you ready for round two?" Based on a post by LindseyLuv, for Literotica.