We'd fought about it last night. Her Christmas gifts to me were always so calculated, ordinary, useful, unexciting. Many times, I was sure she'd chosen something that actually served her purpose more than it served mine such as the time she bought me the snow blower after complaining that I never shoveled the drive. Over the years, I began to dread the holidays because of how her gifts made me feel, and I made my feelings known last night when I declared in a fit of rage that I was going to toss the gift I had gotten her into the waste basket.
"That's it!" I yelled, when she laughed at me for bringing it up. "It might be silly to you, but I'm tired of feeling like your personal handyman every Christmas. Clearly, you have no idea about the concept of giving and I don't want to do this anymore. This is officially my last Christmas and you can take that however you like."
I'd stormed off to the bedroom, knowing I was being childish, yet unable to make myself apologize. It was more than the gifts; it was that she never gave me anything that mattered. Especially herself.
I fell asleep before she came to bed and when she woke me the next day by sinking her body onto my morning erection, I'd put the matter from my mind and laughed at my stupid behavior. As usual, the feel of her silky insides had changed my mood considerably. I even told her I was sorry afterwards.
She met me at the door when I was dressed.
"Come home early if you can, Mick; I have a special present for you. I want to give it to you tonight and I think you'll like it very much," she'd whispered.
I stood there for a moment, watching her – a vision in a white satin camisole and French cut bikini panties. After a reluctant leave, I'd thought of her words all day; words she'd whispered in a voice so seductive it resonated through my body. Christmas Eve and my favorite Jerzey at home, warm and soft, ready to envelop me. I hurried as best I could; Christmas gifts the last thing on my mind.
*
Now, here I am, lying on the carpet in our sitting room wearing silk boxers, and Jerzey is leaning over me, her breasts nearly slipping from a slight satin garment as she offers me wine. I accept, allowing her to tilt the glass until my parched lips meet merlot, and I note the sparkle in her eyes. Jerzey always glitters, but her eyes tonight are emerald chips – ice and fire married behind shadow-dusted lids.
Sleek black hair draping over a bare shoulder, she lifts a piece of fruit, intent on feeding me, but I shake my head and reach for her. She's sly and evades my grasp, slithering away a scant few inches. But the satin slides high and reveals her tanned hip. I groan and my erection grows another inch.
"Lie down all the way," she nearly sighs, and I recognize that husky sound. My Jerzey wants me, and I'll do what she asks. Shifting slightly, I slip to my back and feel her cool fingers tug at the waistband of my boxers. I lift my hips, and Jerzey unwraps me, her movements slow and agonizing.
The sky through our bay window is midnight blue kissed by azure as across the apparent horizon, evening descends. In the corner, the only illumination, a small Christmas tree, blinks its lights at me and I hear my breaths deepen. Jerzey strokes my chest, and I focus on the North Star through the window, my head swimming. Soon her lips join her fingers, and I feel the startling warmth of her wet mouth as she suckles a nipple. I'm sinking fast, and I still haven't gotten my gift.
Or…perhaps I have. If so, it is already more than I dreamed of.
She's impatient, her hunger strong. With amazing agility, she tugs at my hands until she has me in the perfect position. With a smile, she pulls one creamy thigh up high, its softness grazing my cheek before she settles it by my side. In an agonizing instant, she straddles me.
"Don't touch me," she whispers, and I drop the hands that had seconds before sought to caress her thighs.
Her grin shows her approval and I comfort myself with the feel of her warmth surrounding my lower body.
Jerzey, my angel, begins to move. Her head drops to my chest and she slides her satin shrouded body against mine, her hard nipples sending fire through my belly. The feel of her hair on my shoulders is merely an antecedent to the exquisite softness of her skin. I yearn for her and she knows it, and remains elusive.
"Honey, please," I gasp, but she only laughs a little and tosses her hair, its scent following the movement and arousing me fresh.
She reaches for a slice of chilled melon and eases it between my lips, her own mouth forming a small "O" of encouragement, but my hunger is only for her. A shake of her head has me opening, but before I can chew, she is upon me, her lips wrapping the other end of the fruit, her breath in my ear. She sucks softly and I hear her throat swallow, riding a soft sigh. Hungrily, she eats, she devours this flesh, she consumes every morsel. As her lips approach mine, she raises her eyes and locks onto me while she works the last remaining bit from my mouth to hers.
I tremble.
Although she has yet to touch me intimately, I am aroused watching her eat. A small trickle of juice runs down her chin, reminding me of how she looks with my seed on her lips. I hear a groan and understand somehow that the sound is mine, and then Jerzey kisses me.
Together we move, her lips tugging at mine, her teeth digging for the fruit and I yield completely as from somewhere "Silent Night" drifts into the room. It is Christmas and my wife is devouring my mouth while carolers serenade us with the sound of the holidays. Just one step closer to the window and they will see our love. I'm nearly bursting with pride.
Without warning, she moans and speeds her movements, catching my lower lip between her teeth and tugging hard. I give in, amazed, enchanted, and filled with a want to give her whatever she yearns for. She takes my hands and brings them above my head, her hair a sweet-smelling curtain of night that blocks the twinkling lights.
Jerzey pauses. She lifts her head and stares at me. I've never seen her like this: so sexy, so intent, so turned on. Gone is the playful gleam in her eyes, replaced now with a deep need that I cannot fathom. Holding my hands tight in one small fist, she lowers her head and traces the outline of my lips with her tongue. She feeds on them gently until her fervor overcomes her and she plunges into my mouth, hot and urgent.
Caught off guard, I gasp around her tongue. She's alive and her body is so hot. She can't get enough of my lips, my tongue, my saliva. Her gown slips high and my most sensitive appendage is instantly encased in warm, damp silk as she grinds herself against me. Again, I yield, and allow her the control she craves because we both know that I could easily extract my hands from her grip, lay her on her back, and slide deep inside her.
My baby has outdone herself; this is the best gift in the world.
Jerzey kisses me, and in so doing she drinks my soul, happily given in exchange for witnessing this need in her. She signals quietly and I roll to my stomach just as I feel her touch. She kneads my buttocks, slipping her hands between my cheeks and pulling me open just a little bit. Dizzy, I remind myself to breathe.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asks. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," I answer, though my word is little more than a choked syllable.
Leaning down, she tugs at my earlobe with her teeth before breathing, "I will. And for Christmas this year…all you get is candy."
