Stave 1: Marley's Ghost
"Marley was dead, to begin with."
Tina rolled her eyes.
"And I loath Christmas," I added, ignoring her deepening scowl.
"Ebb, I need you. Moral support. Please." Her features softened, plaintively trying to appeal to my more generous side - despite knowing I didn't have one.
I merely shook my head and returned to the layout on the screen.
"Just so you can bonk Carrie or Caris," she muttered under her breath.
I didn't bother looking up as she sighed and moved away, though I'll admit I almost felt a flicker of guilt for leaving her to the wolves she called family. Damn Christmas spirit must be infectious if I was feeling guilty. I quickly dismissed that idea.
Technically I am an orphan - an adult one, but still an orphan, so I don't have to worry about family responsibilities over the festive season. My parents had me late in life, both on their third marriage, and a baby was not part of their plans. When they found out they were pregnant at Christmas, their shock resulted in the cruel joke: they had named me Ebenezer. Unintentionally my parents' humour had left me with a dislike of Christmas. The taunting and bullying by boys at boarding school was bad enough, but adults had never hesitated to crack Scrooge-related jokes either.
Mum and Dad loved me, but in reality, a variety of distant relatives brought me up so my parents could pursue more adult activities. One lasting memory of my father was him repeatedly telling me,
"Ebbie, only ever do what makes you happy."
That had become my life's mantra: if I didn't enjoy it, I didn't do it.
Dad died the year I graduated; Mum was only 18 months behind him. The inheritance allowed me to move to London and pursue a career in journalism. It funded a two-year internship with a leading national rag. My parents' deaths had meant, ultimately, I was now a commercial editor and taking home a healthy salary. The money and lifestyle did make me happy.
Cheers, Dad.
Tina started at the paper after me, and over the last ten years, I guess you could say we had become best friends. Whatever that title meant. No matter how outlandish my extracurricular escapades, she was the person I'd sit in Costa with and laugh with the next day. Our mutual dark sense of humour put us on the same wavelength.
I'd first met her eccentric Uncle Marley at her thirtieth birthday party seven years ago. Hedonistic was the only word to describe him. He spent the night regaling me with stories about booze-filled debauchery, exotic extended holidays and scantily clothed girls less than half his age. He'd burned his way through his money, as he always said,
"You can't take it with you."
That man had been instantly elevated to my perfect role model.
I had willingly attended as Tina's plus-one the next Christmas just to see my new hero. It was the best Christmas I could remember. I spent the day drinking whiskey, smoking and bantering with Marley. Tina's family frowned upon the black sheep of the family, but I guess a sense of responsibility for their eternal-bachelor uncle meant they invited him around every year. Tina's mother was so overjoyed the detrimental impact of her filthy brother was being kept contained and away from the grandchildren, she insisted I attend every Christmas since.
But Marley was dead. There was no doubt whatever about that. Tina remained tight-lipped regarding the precise circumstances. The fact attractive, twenty-something-year-old twins had announced his demise on Twitter straight after calling the paramedics, and the coroner recording a heart attack as the cause of death told me most of the details. In death, Marley was still the epitome of the man I wanted to be.
Without his charismatic presence, I would not subject myself to Tina's overly jovial, festive family. Sure, I diluted the questions and knowing glares of her parents and brother as they quizzed her why she wasn't married and churning out rugrats yet. My arm casually slung over her shoulder, the odd peck on the cheek and flowers for her mother gave me the status of doting 'fake' boyfriend.
I don't know how Tina explained away the lack of engagement ring or baby bump. I didn't care either - work focused, infertility, whatever she had needed to pacify them was no skin off my nose, but this year helping her out didn't win against my alternative arrangements.
For the last seven years, I had turfed the latest conquest out of my bed on Christmas morning, then done the long drive up to Shropshire to play Tina's partner. But with no Marley, it meant I had no lure. Instead, fucking Kerry through the 25th seemed a good way to honour his memory.
"I'll ditch our Boxing Day tradition, if you'll just give me Christmas Day." Tina's voice dragged me from my reverie.
I looked at her blankly.
Her hands rested on her hips, demanding my attention. Suddenly the defiance of negotiation faded and her shoulders slumped as she looked crestfallen.
"Huh?" I furrowed my forehead trying to catch up.
"Don't worry about it. Have a good Christmas." With a dismissive wave of her hand, she walked away again.
I closed my eyes slowly and sighed. Damn. Since I had been spending Christmas with her family, we had driven home through the night and she crashed at mine. The next day was spent lounging in my apartment, eating leftovers her mum sent us back with and watching Die Hard - the best Christmas movie ever. I wouldn't have described it as a 'tradition' but she was right, we had slipped into the routine.
I honestly didn't think she would still be planning our mutual Boxing Day veg-out; she knew I had Kerry staying until the 27th. What did she expect? I hadn't even thought about seeing Tina this year. Now I felt like a royal arse, she was a friend and a good one at that. I picked up my phone and tapped out a quick message.
"Day after Boxing Day, mine, 11.00. I've got salmon and Buck's Fizz. I'll even let you watch Home Alone after our Bruce Willis fix."
Feeling much better I'd done my good deed for the day I returned to finishing the copy I was working on.
*****
Kerry had the most perfect breasts. I've always been a fun-bags man but hers took that pleasure to a whole new level. Sure, they were surgically enhanced, but those expensive silicone implants meant sliding my cock between them was pure and unadulterated bliss.
She peered through heavy lids, the false lashes framing dark, lust-filled eyes.
"Merry Christmas, Ebb." Her drool-covered face glistened in the low light of my bedroom.
I groaned, remembering that luscious, pouty mouth enclosed around my cock. That girl knew what to do with her tongue, and her stamina was epic. Before my cock had made its way between those welcoming breasts she'd worshipped me for a good half an hour.
The illuminated clock radio showed it was nearly midnight. Kerry shifted her hands and pressed the breasts tighter around me. I worked my jaw, it felt so good. Her drool acted as a perfect lubricated slick. She smiled and poked out that magical tongue so it flicked over my slit each time the head emerged from its warm breast cavern. I rocked my hips faster feeling the orgasm approaching.
A minute to midnight, Big Ben would be chiming in Christmas any second. What a great start to the day to cover Kerry's flawless face with my cum. My balls tightened and abdominals tensed. Ecstasy only moments away.
"Happy Christmas," I growled.
The first rope shot across her nose. She shut her eyes as the second landed higher. Her mouth opened, searching for my cum. Marley would have been proud.
It felt so good, I couldn't breathe. I tried to drag air into my lungs, but nothing happened. My cock exploded again - painfully this time. Jerking and spasming, I lost control of my body and fell backwards.
Face up, flat on the bed between Kerry's legs I couldn't move. My cock was on fire. More agonising cum shot straight into the air and my vision blurred.
Pain ricocheted through my body.
My balls were being crushed. No dominatrix heels could match the agony. Gasping, like a fish out of water, my life flashed before me.
Death was coming, but the sensation of my cock and balls being ripped from my body meant I welcomed it with open arms. Anything to relieve this sadistic torture.
My cock still erupted and now it felt like a burning razor wire was exploding from my guts.
I blacked out.
*****
Coming to, bathed in a cold sweat, the first thing I registered was the pain was gone. Numb, that's all I felt, numb. I sucked in a noisy breath and cautiously opened my eyes. I was still flat on the bed but bright light filled the room. I might be numb but I wasn't dead, thank fuck for that. Kerry had gone, she must have gotten up to call for help.
My hand quickly checked to reassure me my cock and balls were still firmly attached. Carefully I sat up... and screamed!